Читать книгу Moonlight Over Manhattan - Sarah Morgan - Страница 15

CHAPTER SEVEN

DINNER?

It had taken all her willpower to bring Madi back to the apartment. Given the choice, she would have taken the dog straight home. Then she would have called Debra and suggested that her brother, no matter how skilled he was in the hospital setting, wasn’t good with animals.

But she knew, deep down, that her prime reason for doing it wouldn’t have been about Madi. It would have been about her.

She’d stammered. Not only that, instead of standing her ground and using all the strategies she’d learned as a child, she’d run away. That depressed her almost as much as the knowledge that she’d retreated when she should have advanced.

Ethan Black was still waiting for her answer. “I understand your dilemma. I’m the cause of your stammer, so why would you stay? But, Harriet, that’s on me. I’m the one with the issue here, not you.”

He didn’t get it. And why would he? This was huge.

She felt as if she’d regressed fifteen years. Was this a one-off? Would it keep happening now? Would she be unable to speak without worrying if the words were going to come out the way she wanted them to? Would it be like school, when there were times when she’d only spoken if she absolutely had to?

She was desperate to call her twin and talk it through, but that wasn’t an option. She couldn’t tell her sister that she wanted to be independent one minute, and then call her in hysterics the next.

She had to find a way through this. But how, when the feeling of panic was a tight ball in the center of her chest?

And she realized with a flash of insight that the “challenges” she’d been setting herself hadn’t really been challenges at all. Where was the challenge in walking in high heels? Who even cared if she could walk in high heels?

This was the challenge. Staying where she was, when all she wanted to do was leave.

Saying yes to dinner when her lips wanted to say no.

“I d-d—” Hot with humiliation, she almost turned away and gave up but something inside her kept her feet glued to the floor.

She met Ethan’s gaze and braced herself for sympathy or, worse, pity, but saw neither.

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” he said. “If you’d slashed yourself with a knife or fallen out of a window, I’m your man, but I’m not afraid to admit I’m out of my depth here. Tell me how I can help you.”

He was asking how he could help.

No one ever did that.

They finished her sentences. They made assumptions. They talked over her. They gave up waiting for her to say whatever it was she was trying to say.

Ethan did none of those things.

“You c-c-c—” The frustration almost made her burst, but Ethan waited quietly. Patiently.

The one thing she didn’t associate her stammer with was patience. Not her own, or other people’s. But Ethan was patient. She didn’t get the sense that he was itching to get on with the next thing. Which was unusual. Nor did she get the impression that he was judging her the way most people did. So many people seemed unable to accept any variation on their view of “normal.” As a child she’d discovered that anything that made you different, made you stand out, also made you a target. In the jungle of the playground, differences were seen as weaknesses, and weaknesses were rarely celebrated. People thought she was gentle, but Harriet knew that wasn’t accurate. She wasn’t particularly gentle, whatever that meant, except perhaps with animals. She was tolerant. She accepted differences. And it seemed that despite his earlier anger, Ethan Black did too. Recognizing that diffused some of the tension building inside her. “You can’t help me.” This time the words came out unrestricted.

He paused. “In the past, what would you have done that has helped?”

Breathing. Relaxation. She’d even tried hypnosis once, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead she breathed, forcing herself to relax. She was not going to walk out. If she walked out she would lose all respect for herself.

She was going to stay. Talk to him. Have dinner.

That was today’s Challenge Harriet.

And it was probably the biggest challenge she could have given herself.

He walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of white wine and then removed two glasses from a cabinet.

He poured the wine and then held out a glass to her.

She took it from him. “Thank you.”

This time the words came out smoothly, and she felt weak with relief.

Maybe this would be okay. Maybe this wasn’t a disaster.

He leaned against the counter, the subdued lighting in the kitchen creating a false air of intimacy. It bathed the apartment with a soothing glow that nudged the edge of romantic.

Or maybe that was just the way her mind worked.

Ethan Black would probably be appalled had he been able to read her thoughts.

She wasn’t a fool. She was well aware that he wasn’t interested in her personally. What he was doing was managing a situation he believed he had caused. She was employed by his sister, who, presumably, he didn’t want to upset. More importantly, he needed her to help with Madi. After the vanishing act she had pulled earlier, presumably he was afraid she might walk out and not return.

If he’d known her, he would have known that wasn’t a possibility.

Harriet would never leave a dog in a situation she felt was bad for them, and although she had no doubt Ethan was a good person and a great doctor, she wasn’t convinced he was good for Madi.

In reality it wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t good with strangers.

That was her problem. She was the one who had to deal with it.

She tried to relax the tense knot in her stomach. She tried telling herself he wasn’t a stranger. Not only had he treated her ankle, he was Debra’s brother and she’d known Debra for years. He hadn’t shouted because he was angry with her. He’d shouted because he was angry with himself. Because he hadn’t been able to save that patient.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that must feel. She wanted to ask him, but right now he was focused on her.

“How long has it been?”

Taking a slow, deep breath and looking directly at him, she tried again to speak. “A few years.” The words emerged with no problem. No barrier.

“Years?” Ethan put his wineglass down slowly. “Then I’m doubly sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I triggered something you had under control.”

“It’s my stammer. Not your fault.”

“We both know that’s not true. I was rude, which is inexcusable. I made you anxious.”

“I find it difficult to talk to people I don’t know. I’m not good with strangers. I’m shy—” She hated saying it. Immediately she wanted to follow up by saying that shy wasn’t the same as weak. “And I have no idea why I just told you that. The one thing I don’t do is divulge personal information to people I don’t know.”

“I’m a doctor. It’s different.”

Was that it? Maybe it was.

He sat down on one of the chairs by the kitchen island and gestured for her to do the same.

“Did you see a speech therapist?”

“For a while. Maybe I should do it again.”

“I don’t think you need that. You just need to relax and take your time. And not hang out with guys like me.” His tone was dry. “You’re not alone, you know. Aristotle had a stammer. So did Charles Darwin.”

“King George VI.”

“Marilyn Monroe.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know.”

“There’s an interview where she talks about it. So how do you manage with your job? Aren’t you constantly required to talk to strangers?”

“Yes, but my sister does that part. New business, bookings, she handles that side of things.” She slid onto the chair next to him, her fingers grasping her wineglass. She didn’t trust her own powers of speech, and it was an awful feeling. She wasn’t sure if alcohol would make it worse or better. “I live life in my comfort zone.”

“That wasn’t how it seemed the other night when I saw you in the emergency room.”

“That was me trying to leave my comfort zone. You saw how it turned out.” Oh what the heck. She took a gulp of wine and felt it slide into her veins. The words were loose and flowing again. She could almost pretend she’d imagined what had happened. Almost, but not quite. It had happened. And it could happen again. Maybe on one level she’d always known that, but she’d gotten complacent. But maybe complacency was a good thing. Worrying, anxiety, made it worse. “I think we’d both agree I’m a work in progress.”

“But you went on a date with a stranger. You didn’t stammer?”

She put her glass down. “He didn’t give me a chance to talk. But I did manage about four short sentences, which was more than I managed on the date before him.”

His eyes gleamed and he leaned forward to top up her wine. “Sounds as if you’ve had some thrilling dates.”

“The best.” She found herself smiling too. She also found herself wishing someone like Ethan had been her blind date, which made no sense at all because less than half an hour earlier she’d left the apartment and braved snow rather than stay in the same space as him. “I’m done with it now.”

“You’ve finished dating? Aren’t you a little young to give up on love?”

Why was he asking her so many questions?

He’d shown more interest in her than the three men she’d dated put together.

“I’m not giving up on love. I’m giving up on internet dating.” She hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but she realized she meant it. After the last guy, she’d never believe anything she read about anyone again. She needed to be able to look into their eyes and judge whether they seemed honest or not. “Which probably means no more dating at all. It’s not easy meeting people.”

“That’s true.”

She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. “You must meet people all the time at the hospital.”

“Not really. I don’t date patients, obviously, and most of my colleagues are too busy to even think about connecting socially, even if we could get past the awkwardness of dating someone you see every day.”

She’d always assumed that dating was easy for everyone else. That she was the only one who found the whole thing daunting and overwhelming.

Harriet wondered if she still counted as a patient, and then wondered why she was even thinking that.

She’d assumed someone like him would be married with two cute kids.

It hadn’t occurred to her he’d be single.

What was wrong with the world?

Unsettled by her own thought processes she made a joke. “Maybe you should try internet dating. Put ‘doctor’ down and you’ll be inundated. Especially when people realize you actually are a doctor.”

“I’m nobody’s idea of a dream date, Harriet.”

He would have been her dream date.

Where had that thought come from? Flustered, she took a sip of her wine, reminding herself that he didn’t like dogs. She could never be with anyone who didn’t like dogs, even if he was a good listener and had eyes that made her think of blue skies and long summer days.

“You’re too hard on yourself. Shrek would seem like a dream date compared to the last three guys I met.”

“I’ve never been compared to Shrek before. I may need therapy to get over that one.”

At least he had a sense of humor. “You said you lost a patient. How do you handle that?”

The worst thing she handled in her working day was misbehaving dogs and inclement weather.

“Tonight I handled it by losing my temper with you.” His tone was dry, his words self-deprecating. “Normally? I deal with it by filing it away as part of the job. It’s not something I usually talk about. I can’t believe I did. I assume it was a pathetic attempt on my part to induce a pity response that might lead to forgiveness.”

She loved his honesty. Her respect for him grew. “People don’t expect doctors to show their feelings. Which must make it hard. You’re supposed to be caring, but still detached. How does that even work?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t. Generally it’s easier in the emergency room. The people I see are strangers. I don’t have the connection with them that doctors in other specialties might. My father works in primary care, and there are some families he has been seeing for thirty years. When he loses a patient he grieves right along with the family. I learned to handle my feelings a long time ago. Most doctors do. You learn to put up emotional boundaries.”

“But putting up boundaries doesn’t mean you’re not feeling it, does it? When you walked through that door earlier you were on edge. Irritable and upset. That’s why you lost your temper over nothing.”

“I’m willing to concede that I was wrong in my response to the situation, but I will not admit that the destruction of my apartment was nothing.”

Harriet finished her wine. “I’m sitting here because you told me you had lost a patient. If you’re now telling me that it had no effect on you, I’m going to walk through that door and I’ll be taking Madi with me.”

“My sister was so wrong about you. She told me you were gentle. She never mentioned you were ruthless and capable of blackmail.” He reached to top up her glass again but she shook her head and covered the glass with her fingers.

“No more. It’s cold out there. I don’t want to slip and bang my head on the way home. I especially don’t want to be taken to the emergency room.”

He put the bottle down. “Because now you know I work there.”

“No, because you’re not on duty tonight.” She spoke without thinking and saw the surprise flicker across his face. She was surprised too. No more wine, Harriet. “I mean because you’re obviously a good doctor. No other reason. And I’m only ruthless when it comes to protecting animals.”

He looked at her for a moment and then stood up. “I’ll order the food. Is there anything you don’t eat?”

“No, but if you tell me what there is in your fridge I can cook it. I’m a good cook.”

“In that case you are definitely going to cook for me one day, but tonight I was thinking more of takeout.” He pulled open a drawer and spread a selection of flyers in front of her. “There’s a Thai restaurant round the corner where the food is so good it makes you want to move to the Far East. Or we could go with pizza if you prefer.”

“Thai sounds delicious, but the menu looks baffling.” And the prices high. Their business was doing well, but there had been enough years where they’d scraped by to make Harriet balk at the idea of spending hard-earned dollars on food she could produce herself.

“If you don’t have any allergies, you can leave it with me.” He picked up the phone. The fact that he ordered without a pause and without once consulting the menu told her that he frequently made the same call.

She remembered seeing him in action in the hospital and sensed he was used to giving orders. Also to knowing what he was doing.

“Isn’t every day bad where you work?”

“Some are worse than others. Today was particularly difficult, and there were complicating circumstances.”

“You see a lot of things.” Things she probably couldn’t imagine, least of all deal with on a daily basis.

“The people who come through the department are often under a tremendous amount of stress. They’re anxious and scared, and that can translate into aggression. People want things done right away, and when that doesn’t happen they’re not happy.”

They’re not happy. “That’s an understatement, right?”

He gave a half smile. “Yes. And we prioritize patients according to medical need, not the order that they walk into the department. That’s always a tough one for people to understand.”

“They think their injury is bad, but you’re seeing someone far worse.” She nodded. “You must handle a lot of abuse.”

“ER workers are an easy target.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out forks. “I pride myself in being skilled at diffusing anger. I spend all day managing other people’s emotions. It seems as if when I walked through that door tonight I forgot to manage my own.”

“It must have been the final straw coming home to the mess Madi created.”

He closed the drawer. “Tell me honestly—is this what I’m going to expect every day? Break the bad news to me gently.”

Harriet glanced at Madi, who was happily gnawing her toy, oblivious to the chaos she’d caused. “She seems settled now. Hopefully it will continue. What time do you leave for work tomorrow?”

Until that moment she hadn’t made up her mind that she was going to go through with this, but their short conversation had revealed a lot about him.

Despite what had happened earlier, she suspected it took a lot to make him lose control of his emotions. He was the sort who would keep his head under pressure. She wondered what exactly had happened with the patient he’d lost. What had driven him so close to the edge? What was different about this day?

“Tomorrow? 6:00 a.m.”

“You need to take her out before you leave. You don’t need to walk her, just take her out to pee. Then I’ll come at nine.” Harriet pulled out her phone and typed a note for herself. “What time will you be home?”

“Difficult to say.” He checked his schedule on his phone. “In theory, five p.m. But it could be anytime. Do I seriously have to take her out if you’re coming at nine?”

“If you don’t want her to wet your oak floor and ruin it, then yes. I don’t want to leave Madi on her own for more than a few hours, so instead of nine I’ll come at nine thirty, and then I’ll come back at two thirty. That should work.”

He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever you say. You’re the expert.”

She wondered if he was making fun of her but his expression was deadly serious. “I’ll take her out for some fresh air and exercise, always assuming the snow isn’t too deep, and then I’ll spend time with her here.”

“And you can do that? How many other dogs do you walk in the day?”

“It varies. Tomorrow I have a pretty busy day, but I can pass at least two of my walks on to another dog walker, so that’s what I’ll do. Until she’s happier, Madi is my priority. I can bring some paperwork and do it in your apartment, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Anything! I owe you in a big way. Thank you.”

“I’m not—”

“I know.” He interrupted her with a wry smile. “You’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for the dog.”

“Madi. I’m doing it for Madi.”

“You’re as sensitive as my sister. She is a dog. Why can’t I call her that?”

“Probably for the same reason people don’t call you ‘the human.’ It’s not overly friendly.”

The food arrived and Ethan spread the cartons across the kitchen island and handed her a plate.

“Help yourself. And tell me more about your business.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m interested.”

“What do you want to know? We walk dogs. We cover the whole of the East Side of Manhattan.” And she was proud of that. Proud of the way they’d built their business from nothing.

“Presumably you don’t do it all by yourself. You mentioned a sister—”

“Fliss. We’re twins. We run it together.”

“And you employ dog walkers?” He spooned noodles onto her plate. “How does that work?”

“They’re often college students. Sometimes people who are retired. We don’t really care about the background. The important thing is that they love dogs and are responsible. Our business is built on our ability to deliver a top quality service to our clients.”

“So how many dogs do you walk at a time?”

“We only offer solo walks. It’s a personal service. Easier to meet the needs of the dog that way.”

“And you take them to the park?”

“It varies.” She twisted the noodles onto her fork. “Sometimes we take them to the park, but that doesn’t work for all dogs. Sometimes we just take them for walks around the neighborhood.”

“So tomorrow—do I have to bathe Madi when I come in after a walk? Clean out her paws? Because I have no idea how to do that.”

He was a guy who spent his days handling life-threatening situations and he was thrown by a little dog. “Just wipe her down. I’ll do the rest when I arrive.”

“And you will arrive? You’re not going to leave me in the lurch to punish me for my earlier behavior?”

“I wouldn’t do that to Madi.”

He pulled a face. “So you’re doing it because you’re afraid to leave her in my care. I shouted at you, and now you think I’m beyond hope as a dog owner, and possibly even as a human being. Can you forgive me?”

She tried not to smile. “I don’t know, Dr. Black. I have yet to make up my mind about you. I’ll let you know when I do.”