or toes. As far as you’ve told me, you’re not having any loss of bladder or bowel function?” He also has no history of Zika virus exposure, which would be a precursor to this extremely rare condition.
My patient frowns. “Yeah, I guess it could be plain old bronchitis.”
“A sound diagnosis.” I reach for the door. “I’ll call in the prescription right away. You can get dressed now.”
“Hmph.” He adjusts his gown, making it evident he ignored my instructions to keep his underwear on beneath it.
I escape out into the hall and stop to scrub my hands before beelining it for my office. I’ve just finished calling in the scrip when there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in.” My pathetic heart does a hopeful surge at the thought it could be Izzy. Unlikely, since she seemed uncomfortable the last time she stopped by, plus we’ve pledged to keep things casual. Visiting someone at work seems more like a relationship thing, but I can’t help holding my breath as the door swings open.
“Hey, Dr. Doofus.” My sister lopes through, smiling as her gaze sweeps my face. “What? You were expecting someone cooler?”
“There’s no one cooler than you.” I deliver the line with the necessary drizzle of sarcasm, earning me a punch to the shoulder. “What brings you by?”
Julia drops into the chair beside my desk and sighs. “Just had lunch with Mom. Did you know she started using Tinder?”
“The hookup app?” Not that I’m judging, since I’ve made use of it in the past. “Does she know how it works?”
My sister makes a face. “She showed me her chat history with some guy she swiped right on. His first message to her said, ‘are you feeling ill?’”
“Ill? What, like some kind of jab about her age?” I consider the career implications of dismembering a guy who insults my mother.
“On the contrary.” Julia pretends to gag. “He followed it up by saying, ‘you look like you could use a shot of penis-illin.’”
“What the fuck?” I pick up my letter opener with a passing thought to an old Army sergeant who showed me six ways to kill with a four-inch blade. Then I remember Izzy’s hitman pal, and my inside joke with myself becomes a lot less funny.
“I’ll go see Mom tomorrow,” I assure my sister. “If I can’t get her to delete the app, I’ll at least give her some pointers for safe online dating.”
“Thanks. I tried, but your brand of protectiveness always works a lot better than mine does.”
“No problem.” A selfish, scheming part of me regards visiting my mom as an opportunity to grab Kevin for another excuse to visit Izzy.
Something must show on my face because Julia studies me like she’s trying to peer into my soul. “Mom says you’ve been borrowing that pig to hit on the girl you’re hot for. Nice strategy. How’s it working for you?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
Julia grins. “So you haven’t gotten to kiss her yet?”
“That’s really none of your b—”
“Oooh, so you have kissed her.” She gives a hoot of delight. “Come on, dish. It’s been so long since I made out with anyone that I’m not sure I’d remember how to do it. Do I get to meet this girl?”
“Woman,” I mutter, not sure why I’m taking her bait. “And no, you don’t. She’s going back to her home country, so there’s really no point in getting serious.”
Julia cocks her head and studies me. “There’s always a green card marriage.”
“For her or for me?”
“I meant for her, but now that you mention it, you do love travel.” She flips her blonde ponytail over one shoulder. “Wasn’t that the thing you dug about the Army?”
A flash of nostalgia zings through me, reminding me of what I gave up to come back here. Not that I regret it, but I do sometimes wonder how life would be different if I’d stayed the course with my military plans. There was a point where I imagined my life, my career path, going a very different direction.
“I don’t see myself going to Dovlano anytime soon,” I tell Julia. “Iz and I are just hanging out. It’s not serious.”
“Yeah, but do you want it to be?”
I recall the last time I lied to my sister. Maybe when our father—angry that Julia left her ballet shoes in the hall again—yelled at her that the tooth fairy wasn’t real. She was four, maybe five, not much older than Jordan is now.
Julia came to my room crying,