Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Fifty-Four

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Day 7

I glance down at my watch, my eyes gazing over the familiar black digits again. It's 12:34 PM. As promised, I'm downtown, sitting at a table for two at Pearson's waiting for my coffee "date" with Jamie.

And he's running late.

Half an hour late.

Of all the nerve. If anything, it should be the other way around. For crying out loud, this was his idea!

I, for one, had definitely thought about just not showing up. I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind several times, in fact, including when I was on my way here. But each time it did, my stupid conscience got the better of me and I ended up feeling guilty about cancelling at the last minute.

I don't date, but I'm all too familiar with the feeling of disappointment. I know I wouldn't appreciate being stood up or left hanging for something I was looking forward to, and Jamie seemed fairly excited about the prospect of having coffee with me last night.

So, as tempted as I was to lock my Jiminy Cricket in a cage and set it on fire, I eventually talked myself out of bailing on him and showed up. So, here I am.

But now, as I sit here by myself, I can't help but wonder if that was an overestimation on my part.

Perhaps I'd imagined his excitement, or even mistaken his extroverted personality for enthusiasm. Maybe this is some sort of trick, or a bet he made with his buddies. It's not uncommon for guys like him to do those things, so I can't say I'd be surprised if that's what it turns out to be. I don't even think I'd be mad, to be honest. I have way too much else to worry about, way too much else that continuously preoccupies my mind and every other part of my body.

I let out a deep sigh as I rub circles around my pulsing temples. I can't believe it's already been a full week since that crazy confrontation—the first of four weeks for me to "decide" if I want to get paid a great deal of money to be Dr. Dexter Frost's whore.

I still can't wrap my mind around it.

For some reason, my anxiety on the matter only gets worse and worse with each passing day.

The cafe door swings open again, followed by the tell-tale sound of a wind chime when it does. The serene jingle brings me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

I look over to see Jamie walking through the door. His large, athletic build is covered in washed out jeans and a Bon Jovi sweatshirt that would probably fit like a tent on me. His dirty blonde hair is ruffled and messy, but the disheveled tresses definitely look sexy on him. He wears the bed head look well. I could only wish.

He looks around for a moment, the expression on his face uncertain, but as soon as he spots me, his face lights up, and his features become brighter as his lips stretch into a smile.

He makes his way over, trying really hard to squeeze by a few tables, and I suddenly feel bad for picking a spot this far back, but then I remember that he's kept me waiting for over half an hour, so I figure it's fitting payback.

I honestly wasn't even thinking about being strategic in my sitting arrangement. This position is pretty awful if I changed my mind and decided to ditch this joint and Jamie. I guess that can't happen now.