Desiring Dylan - Suzanne Jenkins Page 0,12
morning,” Dylan said. “Lucky us. I’d better get my charting done.”
“Why’d you have to mention that? I’m going to be suspended if I don’t get up to date in Medical Records.”
“Yeah, don’t get suspended. You’re on call this weekend, Arvin,” Larry said.
“I need a day off,” Dylan replied. “I don’t want another death on my watch for a while.”
“Did you talk to Landon?” Arvin asked.
“I went over to her apartment after the funeral.”
“How’d she take it?”
“She talked to me on the other side of the open door. I wasn’t getting in.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will for a while. Take it from me, Dyl. Stay in touch with her, but give her time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You want her back, right?”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I don’t think I am. I think the full impact of her walking out on you a year and a half ago just hit. You didn’t care until you saw her Friday night.”
“Since when are you the wise man?”
“Since never, but I know you.”
“I can’t even think about that. I hate to say it, but I wish we’d get some patients in here.”
“Bite your tongue, Doctor,” one of the nurses said.
“Are you going to say anything to Teresa?” Arvin whispered.
Teresa Campbell, operating room nurse. Dylan and Teresa had been dating for over a year, since Landon walked out of his life. It was a repeat of his relationship with Landon, only Teresa wasn’t getting tired of it. A divorced mother of two small children, her busy life meshed well with Dylan’s obsessive compulsiveness.
“About what? There’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh yes there is. You’re in love with Landon.”
***
On Monday, for the first time in months, Landon slept in late. She woke up when the phone rang. Caller ID said it was Dylan. Closing her eyes, she had a headache, but she’d answer.
“Hello.”
“I woke you. I’m so sorry. I feel like all I do is apologize.”
“It’s not necessary. It was time to get up. What do you want?”
“You’re on my mind. I saw an old People magazine they were handing around the department on Friday. I like you with blond hair and with red.”
He heard her laugh, and that made him happy. “The red was a mistake. Kenny liked the avant-garde. The blond was super difficult to keep up. Like weekly visits to the hairdresser. I was going to tell him my blond period was over.”
“I like it dark. When my parents first met you, they said it was a surprise that we were both dark haired.”
“No way.”
He laughed. “They said opposites always attract. They’ve been married forty years and forgot they both had black hair.”
“That’s funny.”
There was a moment of silence. “I’ll let you start your day. I guess you’re staying home from work for a few days?”
“I’m taking the week off. Right now, I’m glad, but in a few days, well, we’ll see.”
They said goodbye. Lying there with her arm across her eyes, she had a choice: get up or sleep the day away. Her body ached, she supposed from the cold, rainy weather, so the comfort of the warm bed enticed her. But she’d get up.
The call actually made her feel a little better, but she wouldn’t tell him. At that moment, she wasn’t looking for a diversion from her grief. Grieving for Kenny was a priority. She owed it to him.
She’d slept in sweatpants and the same St. Joseph University long-sleeved T-shirt, so all she needed was a hoodie and slippers and she was dressed for the day. Looking out her bedroom window, the trees were finally bare after the wind and rain over the weekend blew the last stragglers off.
The weather mirrored her mood: dreary, cold and rainy. She picked up the phone again and called the job. Several coworkers had left messages Saturday regarding Kenny; they’d seen the news, and news travels fast in the theater world. But after Sukey encouraged her to take the time, she needed to formally tell her boss she was taking a week off.
Kenny’s lawyer had gotten in touch after the funeral to tell her they were going to read the will today, and she had been named as one of the beneficiaries. She didn’t need to come to the reading, but he needed to tell her by law. In the course of conversation the previous summer, Kenny had said he was naming her in his will, and she’d laughed it off.
“Why does a thirty-two-year-old guy need a will? You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m loaded, baby. I don’t want the