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Eighteen

“ABOUT FLIPPING TIME.” Cara smacked the table.

Gen jumped to her feet, head cocked, then slid back down to her belly when Cara scratched her under the chin, apologizing for making so much noise.

“Though you can’t blame me,” she continued. “It’s only taken, what? Six months? I swear, y’all have been slower than molasses flowing uphill in winter. New England winter. Not Charleston winter.”

Abby snorted. “It has not been six months.”

“Close enough. You know, most couples save sex for the third date, not kissing.”

“Cara...” Abby’s cheeks flamed as she sputtered. “I don’t... I’m not... We aren’t...”

“I’m teasing,” Cara said, more gently. “You and Will waited, and I’m sure you and Scott will, too, because I know how important it is to you.”

Abby winced, weaving her fingers together, then pressing them into her lap. “We haven’t exactly, uh, talked about it.”

“It’s been six months, girl! What have you been talking about?” Cara demanded.

“It hasn’t been six months,” Abby repeated, rolling her eyes.

Cara rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God, this is going to be the ‘it’s coffee, not a date’ conversation all over again.”

Abby counted back in her head. “Four months if you include when we started spending time together. Three if you count our first official date.”

“Fine. I can work with three months,” Cara conceded. “It’s still a ridiculously long time to wait for a first kiss, though. You know that, right?”

“I’m not you, Cara.” Abby dropped her gaze to her hands, still tangled in her lap, Gen’s leash twining through her fingers.

Even with Will, she’d been slow and cautious, though that had been tempered somewhat by adolescent hormones and peer pressure. Now, haunted by the ghost of her ex-husband, slow and cautious had become ponderous and guarded.

But Scott had torn down her defenses, one at a time.

With the same methodical precision as executing a play, he’d planned his pursuit perfectly.

And, incredibly, she could acknowledge it had worked.

His patience had paid off, and though she certainly wasn’t ready to jump into bed with him, she could imagine a future including him and Dylan.

A life together. A new chance at happiness.

She finally glanced up at Cara, who wore an uncharacteristically somber expression.

“I know you’re not. I’m sorry.”

Abby nodded.

“But I am going to tell you about my date last Friday with Chase Edgerick over in ortho.”

“The new department head?” Abby had seen him in passing. Handsome enough, though not Cara’s typical preference. She didn’t tend to date inside the hospital.

“Cunningham is pissed. He thought he had ortho wrapped up, but the Board of Directors picked Chase instead.”

Abby winced. An outsider hired in over his head? Tom wouldn’t have liked that at all.

“He’s calling him a DEI hire. Loudly.” Cara crossed her arms.

Abby whistled. “He’s going to get himself fired if he’s not careful.”

“And not a single person would miss him.”

Abby glanced around the hospital cafeteria and shushed her friend. “You will, too. His dad is still on the board, even if Tom didn’t get chosen.”

“Fine,” Cara scoffed. “But I, for one, am glad to see daddy’s influence finally isn’t enough to drop yet another choice position in his lap. He hasn’t done a lick of original research in years. He and Will may have hated each other, but at least they fostered some healthy competition.”

“Will didn’t hate Tom,” Abby insisted. “He just didn’t think nepotism should rule hiring. I happen to agree.”

Cara shrugged. “So do I, but this is supposed to be a research hospital. If he’s not publishing, he’ll perish.” Cara winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it...”

A knife twisted in Abby’s chest. She knew the saying— publish or perish —but in Will’s case, his obsession with work might very well have played a contributing role in his death.

How different would her life look today if he hadn’t stayed so late finishing his very last paper?

Cara leaned forward, covering Abby’s hand with hers. “Really. I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

Abby breathed through the stinging prick in her sinuses. “I know. It’s okay.”

“Anyway, Chase published an article in The American Journal of Sports Medicine last month about youth athletes and he has another one coming out in October with The Journal of Orthopedic Surgery and Research .”

“Wow!” Abby shook her head. “Tom’s not doing anything remotely comparable anymore. What’s the new one about?”

Cara grinned. “Pain management in pediatric patients. Opiate use in the wake of the opioid crisis isn’t well-studied in children.”

“No kidding. I wonder if he’d consider doing some crossover work with pain management in oncology.”

Will would have been interested in exactly this kind of collaborative work, but without him to drive it, Abby wondered which of the current doctors she could approach to float the idea.

“I can ask. I’m seeing him again this weekend.”

“Again?” Abby arched an eyebrow at her best friend. “Wow, two dates in two weeks. You must really like this guy.”

“Don’t tell my dad. He’ll never let me hear the end of it when he finds out I’m seeing a guy in his field.” Cara snorted, but her smile belied her complaint.

“I’m happy for you,” Abby leaned forward, wrapping one arm around Cara in a half-hug.

Gen, ready to work, jumped to her feet, but when Abby sat back, she settled onto her haunches again, then slid down to the floor, watching as a family with two young kids found a table nearby.

“Ooh, look, Mommy. A doggie!”

The little girl pointed and Abby, attention caught by her words, asked, “Do you want to come pet her?”

It took several minutes for the parents to corral their kids back to their own table, but when they did, Cara leaned both elbows on the table and studied Abby.

“So, it’s going well, then? I don’t want to pry, but you’ve been pretty tight-lipped for all the time you spend at Scott’s place.”

Abby nodded. “It is. It’s... really good. I adore Dylan. And Scott, he’s...”

Perfect .

He wasn’t, of course. But when he always seemed to know the exact right things to say and do, she couldn’t help falling for him more every day.

Will wasn’t perfect, either, but he loved you.

She’d been grappling with Will’s ghost for months, the reality of who he had been edging uneasily alongside her grief, and the idea she should honor the dead, no matter their mistakes in life.

Allowing herself to acknowledge his imperfections stopped her from comparing Scott to a paragon on a pedestal.

She owed Scott the chance to love her on his own terms, not competing with a shadow.

“... amazing,” she finished. “He’s amazing.

The season starts on Sunday, but even with practices, he’s taking Dylan to school every day, and he’s making time for us most evenings.

We had a talk before training camp started, and I really doubted we’d make it, especially when I had to shave Gen, but I think we’re going to be okay. ”

“D’you think they’ll bring home the championship this year?” Even a non-fan like Cara knew how close the Raptors had come last year.

Abby shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think they have a shot.”

They lost the first game of the season, and the commentators went crazy. Even before the post-game press conference, they were discussing the Raptors in a one-and-done tone and decrying their chances of even making it into the playoffs. Abby shut off the TV and she and Dylan went out for ice cream.

“Dad doesn’t celebrate losses,” Dylan told her between licks.

Still hot and humid, despite being the first week of September, he caught the drips with his tongue before they ran over his fingers and fell to the ground.

Abby snorted. “We’re not celebrating a loss; we’re being defiant their whole season will be defined by one game.”

“Uh-huh,” Dylan agreed, “accidentally” letting a small dollop of ice cream fall to the ground between Gen’s outstretched paws.

Abby frowned. “She can’t eat off the ground, Dylan. It will teach her it’s okay to scavenge for food.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t know.”

Abby scooped the ice cream up in a napkin. “I know, kiddo, that’s why I told you. There’s a lot of rules, but you’re doing great.”

“Can I give her some in a bowl, instead?”

She shook her head. “Not today. She hasn’t been eating much lately, so I want to make sure she’s not filling up on junk.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Abby ruffled his hair. “We have a vet appointment next week to double check, but I think the heat is bothering her more than usual.”

Scott picked Dylan up from school on Monday and Abby brought his small duffel bag home that night when she joined them for dinner.

Quiet through the meal, she wasn’t sure how to handle the loss, but Dylan defused the awkward silence, filling it with a running commentary of their weekend’s activities.

“... and then I told him we went out for ice cream after the game because we were being... definite...”

Abby laughed. “Defiant.”

“Yeah, defy-nant.” Dylan shoved another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, then continued around the bite, “Don’t worry, Dad. We got your back.”

The corners of Scott’s mouth twitched upwards, and with a heavy breath, he shook the loss from his shoulders. “Well, I appreciate it. And please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Under the table, he reached for Abby’s hand and squeezed her fingers.

Thursday afternoon, Abby picked Dylan up from school for another long weekend at her place. Scott and the team had headed out that morning for San Francisco and Abby had called him before the flight to wish him luck.

“We’re ready,” he’d told her, adamant.

“Play your best; that’s enough.”

Sunday afternoon Abby and Dylan huddled in front of her small television, wearing their Raptors jerseys.