Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
We’ll see.
“The pizza is on its way. And I don’t have a drop of alcohol to offer you. So make yourself at home on the sofa while I get you a bottle of water.” I bite my lips together to hide my ridiculously embarrassing smile. “You can choose sparkling or still.” Not only have I neglected my love life for the past decade, but I’ve also failed to stock my apartment with anything that might make me look like a good hostess.
“I feel like living on the edge tonight, so I’ll take sparkling. Thank you.” Paul slips his shoes off just inside my door and saunters to the sofa.
His ass looks good in jeans. It looks good without any too.
“You okay?”
I glance up as he turns toward me just before taking a seat on my sofa. Busted! Yes, I was looking at his ass, and he knows it.
“I’m good.” I tame my grin, but I’m sure he sees the truth in my flushed cheeks.
“Do you have some lime to go with the sparkling water?”
I open my fridge as if I’m checking, but I know the answer already. “Shoot. I think I used my last lime yesterday. I have a tangelo. Would you like a slice of that instead?”
He laughs. “No. I’m good.”
I hand him the sparkling water and sit at the opposite end of the sofa as if I’m shy—as if we haven’t had sex. My mistake. I should have kept things going, but I’m terrible at keeping shit alive. That’s why I don’t have house plants. It’s also why I work with dead people.
“I’ve missed seeing you. I’m so glad you called.”
I shake my head. “I’m terrible at dating. I’m surprised you even took my call. I get so distracted with work. Really, I’m sorry. I should have made a better effort because I did enjoy…” I smirk and laugh a little “…hanging out with you.”
Sex.
I enjoyed the sex. I enjoyed the company of a warm, naked body.
“Well…” he scoots a little closer to me, angling his body a few degrees to face me “…I enjoyed hanging with you too.” Paul makes me feel good. Normal. Relaxed.
The pizza arrives, and we eat nearly the whole thing while sharing funny stories from our childhood. We were both a little “different.” I’ve been searching for someone who is not like me—probably not a great strategy—so it’s not surprising that I’m still single. Paul gets me. Or so I think … until I slip up and overshare.
“Oh … this feels good.” I toss the crust of my pizza onto my plate and set it on the coffee table. “It was a long day. I needed this. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having a child on my table.” The second I say it, my sluggish mind catches up. Paul doesn’t know. I can’t keep it from him forever, but I’d planned on sharing the truth with a little more tact and a lot more explanation.
“Child? On your table? Do you still work directly with patients? I assumed you just worked in the lab.”
My lips curl together, face wrinkled with a hint of a cringe. “I do work in a lab sometimes. I … God, please don’t take this the wrong way like I intentionally lied to you. I just feel like sharing the truth too soon ends things before they really begin.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m a doctor. And I’m a pathologist.”
“So …” Paul raises a single eyebrow.
“I’m a forensic pathologist.”
He blinks several times before nodding slowly. “That’s … you …”
“I’m an assistant medical examiner.”
Paul continues to inspect me between his slow blinks. He leans forward, setting his nearly empty bottle of sparkling water next to his plate on the coffee table. “You perform autopsies?”
“Correct.” I smile softly.
“So the child on your table was …”
“Deceased.” I nod several times.
“That’s …” Paul clears his throat.
“Sad,” I say. “But if you’re referring to my job, it’s necessary. There’s actually a shortage of forensic pathologists in the United States.” I shrug. “Somebody has to do it. It’s not glamorous, but it’s necessary.”
“Of course. I just didn’t see that coming. I had a vision of you in a lab.”
“Well, sometimes I’m in the lab.”
He scratches the back of his head. “How did you uh … decide to become a medical examiner? Surely you didn’t dream of it as a young child.”
I really like Paul. And I think he likes me. This doesn’t have to be a dealbreaker. And he deserves my honesty, but I think he needs it in small doses. I don’t tell him that I’m incredibly good at my job. A natural at something so very unnatural. I have a gift for separating the body and soul. I don’t see a person. I see a body that housed a soul. Even when I see a child on my table, it’s only a little harder because I know there is a family (usually) who feels like the order of death didn’t go as intended. Children shouldn’t die before their parents. But sometimes they do. And that’s life.