Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Baby brother Dax is the first to respond with the inevitable retort. I don’t even need to read his message to know what it says: Perfect Zach is late. Is Mercury in retrograde?
For some reason my brothers think I lead a charmed life. I do in many ways, of course. I enjoy a lot of privileges. But no more than any of them do. They’ve tricked themselves into believing that life comes easy and that nothing bad ever happens to me.
My flow of ideas is interrupted by thoughts of my siblings. I shove my phone into my coat, keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling the buzz of the jokes about me in the palm of my hand.
Before long, I’m in Highgate, standing in front of Nathan’s grand house. He’s the only one of us who isn’t a doctor, and part of me hopes my other three brothers can’t make it tonight, or at least run later than me. I like to hear about his life outside of a hospital. I’ve never told him, but I’ve always admired how he dropped out of medical school. He plowed his own path.
“How’s perfect Zach?” Madison, Nathan’s wife, says as she opens the door.
I don’t respond and she stands aside to let me in. “Is everyone here?” I ask. I haven’t even kept up with who is meant to be coming tonight.
“Just you so far. Jacob and Sutton are due any minute. Nathan’s back in the kitchen.”
Nathan’s picking out wine when I appear. “How’s my perfect brother?” He doesn’t look at me as he continues to focus on the bottles in front of him.
I don’t respond. What’s the point? They’ll think what they think, no matter what I say.
“Shall I get something from the cellar?” he bellows. Presumably at Madison.
“It’s a Friday night. Go wild.” Madison’s good for my brother. I never thought I’d see him settle down. But then again, I didn’t think I’d be a doctor for as long as I have been.
“This will do.” He pulls two bottles of red from the fridge. “It’s only you and Jacob and Sutton tonight.”
I follow him over to the counter where he sets about opening one of the bottles.
“So how is life in the private sector?” he asks.
“Good,” I reply. When what I really mean is, I’ve really enjoyed the time to myself so far. I’m in the final act of the first Benjamin Butler book. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.
“Of course it is. No doubt patients are battering down your front door, trying to get an appointment with you.”
If only he knew. I’m sure Ellie wonders if she’s working for the worst doctor alive, given she’s not seen a single patient enter our office. But they’ll come. Especially now she’s filled out my recognition forms. I’ll get insurer referrals any day now. The insurers don’t seem to care who you are as long as you’ve got practicing privileges at an NHS hospital.
“I guess.”
Nathan looks at me for the first time since I arrived. “You sound your usual enthusiastic self.” He holds my gaze and for a split second I’m tempted to tell him that I don’t want any patients. Not in the private sector, not even in the NHS. I don’t want to be a doctor. I want to spend all my days how I’ve spent today: thinking about stories and characters and plot and writing, writing, writing.
Of course I don’t.
“What are you enjoying about it so far?” he asks.
The best thing about private practice is Ellie. She’s competent and capable and—an image of her bending over my desk flashes into my mind, her legs parted, her hands gripping the edge as I slide up her skirt—I need to change the subject.
Luckily Jacob appears with Sutton and the sight of them together almost makes me smile. She’s so good for him. She brings out the best in him. “What going on?” he asks.
“Nathan’s opening wine,” I reply. We are not talking about my private practice, and I’m not thinking about my assistant. On my desk. Naked.
“Sounds good.”
“Is it just the five of us tonight?” Sutton asks. “You haven’t brought anyone, have you, Zach?”
I groan. I really like Sutton and I really like Madison, but when they’re together, they spend far too much energy trying to identify a perfect woman for me.
“Angelina Jolie’s single,” Madison says. “Is she your type?”
I shake my head and I see another flash of Ellie, this time her eyes are closed, and she has a look of ecstasy on her face. I wouldn’t say Ellie’s my type exactly, but apparently she’s taken up residence in my brain.
“Zachy’s perfect. He doesn’t need a woman with a vial of blood around her neck.”
A vial of blood around her neck isn’t the reason Angelina Jolie isn’t my type. It’s much more about the fact that I don’t know Angelina Jolie—and it’s only when I get to know a woman that I can find her properly attractive. It’s probably why I’ve been single for so long—the only women I meet are my brothers’ girlfriends and work colleagues, and both are strictly no-go zones.