Page 39 of Wrong Number Right Doctor

I look down at my plate. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”

My phone buzzes on the table.

I look down without thinking.

Petra. The name alone pulls me out of the restaurant.

Petra: Reminder: arrival time is 8:30 AM on Friday for your scheduled procedure. Please confirm receipt.

I read it once. Then again.

A minute ago, all of tonight felt warm. Now it feels like something I accidentally borrowed.

Friday. Two days. The clinic. The paperwork. The careful instructions. Petra’s neat voice. Alester Chandler’s name sitting on every document like a seal.

I lock the phone and place it face down.

D notices. His eyes move from my phone to my face. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” The lie comes out before I can stop it.

He doesn’t call me on it right away. That’s worse somehow.

I reach for my water and take a sip, mostly to give my hands something to do. The glass is cold. My fingers are colder.

“It was just an appointment reminder,” I say.

“Medical?”

I nod.

He waits.

I look away. The last thing I need is for him to freak out.

“I’m fine,” I say.

D’s voice is quiet. “You don’t look fine.”

I laugh once, but it comes out thin. “That’s rude.”

“It’s true.”

I look back at him. He’s not smiling now. There’s no flirt in his face, no smugness, no easy certainty. Just attention.

It makes me want to tell him.

It also makes me want to run.

“It’s nothing bad,” I say. “Just something I have to do.”

His gaze stays on mine. “And you don’t want to talk about it.”