Page 32 of Choosing Us

“I feel like it’s not that big of a surprise…” I add as I raise an eyebrow at my friend.

“It’s not. She mentioned she was meeting you and I made a note.” Ryan shrugs with a half-smile. “I wanted to pop in and say hi since you were in town.”

“Well, that was nice of you,” I say to fill the somewhat awkward pause.

“Oh, shoot, you know what? I totally forgot that I have to run a quick errand before my next appointment.” Savannah drops her shoulders and tilts her head, selling her remorse a little too strong. I have to bite back a giggle at the charade.

“Smooth, Sav,” Ryan adds.

Savannah double blinks and is clearly going for an innocent look, but her mischievous grin is ruining the entire façade. “Ryan, would you mind sitting with Harlow while she finishes her coffee? I don’t want to be rude and abandon my friend.” Savannah stands and pulls her coat on, before all but shoving her brother into the chair she just vacated. She picks up the gifts I gave her for the girls as I stand to give her a hug goodbye.

“You’ll call or text me if anything comes up, right? I’m not your therapist, but I am your friend,” I tell her quietly in her ear as she nods in my embrace.

“Promise. Thank you, Harlow,” she responds with a brief squeeze before she slides her cheerful mask back on and turns to her brother. “You know, Ryan, you need coffee, too. I’ll order you one before I go and have them run it out.” She’s walking away while waving at us before Ryan can even object to his sister’s steamrolling. Savannah orders something at the front counter before waving once more as she walks out of Java Jive and into Theo’s waiting arms.

“She’s a force,” Ryan says with awe apparent in his tone.

“She’s going to be okay, and I’ll do everything I can to support her.”

“I appreciate that. And for coming here, not only to check in on her, but also giving me the opportunity to see you face to face instead of texting or calling.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry, I know things have been crazy with work lately, and I’ve been traveling more than I’d prefer. Hopefully, things will be a little more typical in the coming weeks … but it’s not really something I can predict either.” We have no idea when a case will pop up that requires us to travel, and that’s the unfortunate part of my job: crime doesn’t stop and it happens everywhere.

“I have to admit, in my head, you just stay in an office all day, every day,” he softly admits.

I rear back slightly at his confession. “Why’s that?”

“It’s easier than worrying about the dangers you likely face daily.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, most of my days involve sitting in conference rooms with my team members or reading reports and case files in my office.” And it’s also incredibly adorable that this man is worried about me.

“It’s not that I doubt your capability, I hope you know that. You are an incredibly intelligent and capable woman, but it’s hard to imagine you being in danger.” He gives me a sheepish smile, like he didn’t just say one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.

“I actually had a question for you, and Savannah said you’re an expert.” As fast as my heart was soaring at his comments earlier, a bucket of ice water is promptly dumped over my foolish daydreams. Of course, he’s just worried about me as Savannah’s friend, and I have been reading too many romance novels lately, reading into context that’s not actually there. I should know better, and his question is the reminder I needed to understand my role—I’m the genius doctor prodigy and his friend.

Full stop.

I try not to look as dejected as I feel, and it’s a good thing I have years of controlling my facial expressions. “What’s up?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes slightly.

He’s assessing me, I can feel it, but I play it off the best I can.

“Well, Savannah said you brought the best chocolate chip cookies to their last book club meeting.”

Wait. What?

“I, uh, yeah, I did…” I trail off, unsure of where this is going.

“How do you make the cookies thick without being undercooked in the center? I’m a terrible baker in general, but my cookies are always awful.” He looks at me expectantly, and I can’t help it—I bust out laughing.

“Cookies? You wanted to ask me about cookies?” He’s looking at me like I’ve lost the plot, and maybe I have. “Sorry, that just … that wasn’t what I expected.”

Ryan tilts his head to the side as he hums, waiting for me to answer his question.

“Right, sorry. Well, it’s probably the dough. It’s best if you let it chill in the refrigerator, so the butter and any other fats can firm up and not melt as quickly in the oven.”

“Oh. I always skip that step,” he admits sheepishly.

“There you go; try chilling the dough and see if that helps.” I take another drink as I internally squeal at the fact that this man didn’t want to ask me about something related to my job or professional experience—he wanted to ask me about cookies.