Page 13 of A Lot Like Lavender

“Oh, sugar…” Her smile is, in fact, sweet as sugar. Call me a cynic, but I don’t trust it. “I’m just getting background information on the physician treating my furbaby. That’s all.”

Mrs. Cotten’s thumb strokes the back of my hand. Not in a suggestive way, but one that makes me uncomfortable, nonetheless. So, as any grown, reasonable man would do, Iwhip my hand from her clutches and fake sneeze as loudly as possible.

“Pet dander,” I say, wiping my hand on my nose a bit, just in case she gets any more ideas. “Hazard of the job.”

Mrs. Cotten purses her lips but gently encourages Veronica to dismount from her lap before standing and slipping a card on my desk. It’s only now that I see she’s got a matching blouse under her red blazer that reads, “Berry Cute.”

“I’m leaving you Mr. Cotten’s business card,” she announces. “He just finished his trainin’ as a certified life coach. And let me tell you, honey, your name may be Dr. Love, but my Michael knows what he is doing when it comes to matters of the heart.” She slaps my arm again then all but straddles poor Veronica, blocking the exit as she rubs her hands all over the dog’s decorated body while she speaks. This woman’s love language is clearly physical touch. Veronica gives me a pleading whimper for extraction. “And might I suggest a necktie when you come to work. My Michael always suggests a necktie when trying to make a good impression. You’d look so smart with that fancy white coat and a nice, patterned tie. Even with all those trats… That’s what the young people call ‘em.”

“I think you meantats, ma’am?”

She waves me off. “Semantics, Dr. Love. I’m sure some young lady out there would be absolutely smitten with that sort of thing. And a tie would certainly make you more presentable to the women ‘round here.”

I want to ask her why every woman I’ve met in Honey Hill seems to think I need to make a good impression, but Veronica sighs, and I swear, she shakes her head like,“Don’t fight it, buddy. It's not worth it.”

“I appreciate the advice, Mrs. Cotten,” I say, patting Veronicaon the head once more then wedging myself between the counter and Veronica’s mom so that I might escape the room unscathed. “And I’ll be sure to reach out to Mr. Cotten if I ever find myself in need of…”

“Life training,” she finishes my sentence with a nod of approval. “Just like with dogs but for humans. My Michael uses whistles and everything.”

“Right.” I lift my hand in a wave—or a sign of surrender—and begin to slip out the door. “Be sure to visit reception on your way out, and maybe bring Veronica back in about a month from now if she’s still feeling under the weather.”

Veronica’s strawberry body slumps in defeat.

Mom’s waiting around the corner, chuckling, with a Pomeranian in her arms. “Veronica again?” she asks, eyes lit with mischief.

Blowing out an exhausted breath, I run both hands through my hair and meet her just outside her office. “How did you guess?”

“There’s a pool running on who can set you up first with a single woman in the local area.” She chuckles, letting the fluffball in her arms kiss her directly on the mouth. “Leigh Cotten is favored to win.”

“Seriously?”

Mom nods. “Oh yeah. It was all the talk in our group chat yesterday. Joanie Remillard thinks she’ll give Leigh some competition, but my money’s on Leigh. That woman is determined. Not to mention the fact that she and Michael always seem to be in the know around here.”

“I’m not going on any dates.”

Mom ignores me as the dog takes its affections to PG levels of intensity.

“Mom,” I say again, more confidently. “Didyou hear me? I’m not going on a date with any of the women they try to set me up with.”

I’ve been single for over a year now and much happier than when I was engaged to a woman who, as it happens, was far more interested in spending her time with other men than she was with me.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know my ears don’t work when I’m being licked,” Mom says, briefly glancing towards the waiting room window. “Would you mind taking my next patient? I need to have a conversation with Bill about this little fella.”

Bill pops his head out of his office. “Did you need me, sweetheart?”

“Always,” Mom replies and lets Bill kiss her directly on the mouth—right where thelittle fellajust marked his territory with his tongue. And per usual, she pops between multiple conversations as she follows Bill to his office. “Don’t forget the next patient, Jordan. She’s waitin’ now.” Mom dismisses me then begins, “Patient is three years old, presents with poor bladder control and suspected submissive urination.” She switches to baby talk. “But we won’t hold that against you. No we won’t.”

Mom calling for a new coat from her lab tech, thanks to an accidental pee, is the last thing I hear before she closes the door.

I peek down at the watch on my wrist for a quick time check before pushing through the swinging door that leads to the waiting room. One hundred and five minutes to go. As soon as I enter the waiting room and am greeted by the one face I didn’t expect to see, I know I’m going to feel every single second of those hundred and five minutes.

“Hello, Re— Emory,” I correct myself. Even with the memory of her hand hitting my face, it takes every instinctin my body not to wrap Emory in a hug. To fall on my knees and beg her to forgive me. I realize now, even more so than after seeing her for the first time, two days ago, how very deeply I failed her. How, caught up in my own grief and selfishness after James’ death, I abandoned the very person I should have stayed for.

She crosses her arms, shifting all her weight to one side. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um…” My hands pass through my hair again. A nervous tick I can’t quite reign in.

“He’s the doctor, sweetie,” Mrs. Remillard chimes in with a delighted smile on her face, waiting for her—or rather, Gus’—second appointment this week. With a little nonverbal encouragement, she winks at me and tilts her head in Emory’s direction. It’s probably because I finally shaved last night. She shoos me forward, her silent seal of approval. She clearly wants whatever that pool is up to. “His name is Dr. Love. Can you believe it?”