but maybe there would be a way to mention Simon.
Abby shook her head. “No. When she’s in her office, we leave her alone. Once she gets on a roll, any interruption breaks her concentration. She’ll be fine.”
They stepped out into the warm, sunny day. The neighborhood was pleasant enough, he supposed. There were houses on both sides of the streets, green lawns, bikes left on porches. He supposed this was how most people grew up—in neighborhoods of some kind. While he preferred his high-rise condo, he could see the appeal. If one had children, a yard would be nice. His parents’ house had a yard—not that he’d ever been one to play outside. He hadn’t seen the point. Nor did he now. He exercised because being fit made him a better surgeon but he didn’t like the outdoors. It was too unpredictable.
“You’re looking intense about something,” Abby told him.
“Wondering what it was like to grow up in a place like this.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“In schools and universities.”
“So no Little League?”
“No.”
“I want to say that must have been hard, but you can’t miss what you didn’t know. Did you have friends in school or were you too much younger?”
“I’m not a friend kind of person.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. Everyone needs friends.” She studied him. “What about at work? There have to be people you like.”
“Some more than others.”
The conversation made him uncomfortable, yet he didn’t try to change the subject. Mostly, he supposed, because he wanted to know what Abby was thinking. She had a unique perspective he enjoyed.
“Are people afraid of you?” she asked.
“Some.”
“Do you yell or are you quietly disdainful?”
He hesitated. “Why would you ask if I’m disdainful?”
“Because you wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. Is that the right expression? Plus, you obviously care about your work and your patients, so you’d be mad at anyone who wasn’t perfect.” She smiled. “I am jumping to many conclusions here. Feel free to stop me.”
He thought about the nurses who avoided his rotations and how people quieted when he approached. More than once he’d heard a muttered “asshole” as he’d walked by.
“I am not the most popular surgeon in the hospital.”
“Are you the best?”
“Sometimes, but not always.”
“It must be hard when you lose someone,” she said quietly.
“It is.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded, thinking that for so many people the phrase “I’m sorry” was meaningless—almost conversational punctuation. But Abby was different—he knew she genuinely was sorry.
For a second he thought about telling her about the burn patient he’d lost. How helpless he’d felt, how he hadn’t known what to do to save her. Only he didn’t because getting too close to the truth was dangerous. She couldn’t know why he was in town.
He realized then he was deceiving her. He had been from the beginning, but suddenly he minded. She deserved better.
“I can be a jerk,” he said without thinking. “I’m impatient and thoughtless when it comes to how I treat people. If someone makes a mistake, I’m rarely understanding.”
He looked away, not wanting to see the smile go out of her eyes.
“Because you don’t make mistakes?”
“I make them. I try not to, but they happen.” Rarely. And never the same one twice.
“So you get frustrated and you react. It’s not uncommon, but it’s not very likable. You should change that.”
He glanced at her. “Just like that?”
“Why not? If you’re so very smart, it shouldn’t be hard, should it?”
The corners of her mouth turned up as she spoke. She was stating a fact, not making a judgment. There was no contempt in her eyes, no scorn. He supposed that was what he’d sensed from the first. That she was one of those very rare people who accepted people for who they were.
“You are going to be an extraordinary teacher.”
She smiled. “I think I could be a good teacher, but extraordinary is asking a lot. Still, I appreciate you saying that.”
“I mean it.”
Her smile widened.
Standing there on the sidewalk, in some ridiculous town, Joaquin had the sudden urge to lean in and kiss her. Really kiss her. He wanted to feel her lips on his and then maybe pull her close. Yes, definitely pull her close because he needed to experience what it felt like to hold Abby.
The wanting was more powerful than he’d ever felt before and the intensity shocked him.
She started walking again. He fell into step with her, not sure what had just happened.
They reached the center of town quickly.
“It’s over there,” Abby said, pointing to a storefront with a