“Must be all that pad Thai,” Dr. Addison said, with a little flirty undertone that the vet student didn’t notice.
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing the doc’s hand platonically and pumping it up and down. “You really saved him.”
“It was a group effort,” Dr. Addison said.
A memory of a shirtless Joe flopping me down on my bed and kissing my neck flashed through my head. Somehow I just couldn’t imagine this guy—with his tight posture and his tie and his clicker pen in his Oxford cloth pocket—positively melting a woman in that way.
Case closed. I’d chosen well.
Time to end it.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to him then. “Do you have a minute to talk privately?”
Dr. Addison checked the clock. “I have seven,” he said.
Then, at my frown: “Minutes,” he clarified. “Before my next appointment.”
“Ah,” I said. “Great.”
He walked us out back to a little grassy yard for the animals.
I let Peanut off his leash, and he trotted off to sniff things. And then it was down to business.
I felt oddly nervous. I’d never dumped anyone before. I was generally the dumpee.
Although—can you dump someone you’re not even dating?
“I so appreciate the time we’ve spent together,” I began, busting out the monologue I’d practiced in front of the mirror, but then going off script before the end of the first sentence. “And I just wanted to clarify a little bit with you that whatever’s going on or might go on between us…”
Wow. I was terrible at this.
Dr. Addison took a step closer.
Then he reached forward and took one of my hands—quietly, but with encouragement.
I pushed ahead. “I know we’ve been moving toward spending more time together lately…” My heart surprised me by pounding against the inside of my breastbone. “But I just want to say, in the future, from this point on … I think it’s probably best for us to keep our relationship professional.”
That surprised him.
Dr. Addison let go of my hand and took a step back.
I couldn’t see his face fall, but I could definitely feel it.
“Professional?” he asked then, after a pause, sounding, really, like he had not seen that coming.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep things light. “You know. For us to just kind of stay in the vet and client category.”
Another pause. Dr. Addison reached back and palmed the back of his head. “You’re saying that you just want us to have a vet-client relationship?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“Nothing more?”
I nodded again.
A long pause. Then a tense question: “Can I ask why?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep things super friendly. “Well, it’s been a bit of a crazy time for me, lately. And I actually, um, you know, not on purpose of course, but just kind of by accident … I guess you could say I developed a thing for somebody else.”
Dr. Addison stood there a second. Then he said, “A thing? You developed ‘a thing’ for somebody else?”
Wasn’t that what I just said? “Yeah. You know. So…”
“When?” he asked.
“Um,” I said, my voice sliding unnaturally high. “Recently?”
“Who is it?” he asked next, sounding brittle.
“Oh, just a guy. Ya know. A guy I’ve had to spend some time with lately.”
Dr. Addison started pacing around.
That much, I could see.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It just kind of happened. I wasn’t even really sure that you were interested, anyway.”
“You weren’t sure I was interested?”
“I mean—were you?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice sour. “I was interested.”
Wow. This was not the reaction I’d been expecting from a guy who stood me up and then never called.
Dr. Addison adjusted his tie. “So … you’re going to date this other person?”
“I think so,” I said.
“And,” he went on, studying the ground like he was trying to solve a problem, “if I told you that I really like you a lot, would that make a difference?”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
“If I told you,” he went on, “that I can’t remember the last time I met someone who woke me up like you do … That there’s something about you that I can’t get out of my head … That I keep thinking about you and wondering if we might be … really right for each other…” He looked up. “What would you say?”
I’d say, “Don’t stand me up next time?” I thought to myself.
But to Dr. Addison, I just said, “I’m so sorry. I just think it’s too late.”
And then—maybe out of politeness, or maybe just because it’s not every day that someone saw something so valuable in me—I added, “Thank you, though. For feeling those things.”
Next, the door to the clinic slammed open and a vet tech said, “I’m sorry, Dr. A. We’ve got a Great Dane with torsion.”
Dr. Addison gave a curt got it nod. Then after the tech was gone, he let out a deep sigh, and said, “Do I have any chance at all of changing your mind?”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry,” I said, figuring that being honest was probably better for both of us in the long run. “I think I just … accidentally … fell madly in love.”
He took that in. “Can’t argue with that. I guess.”
He looked up at the sky then, took a deep sigh, and walked to the clinic door.
But next, before going through, he stopped and turned back. “I wish you well, Sadie,” he said. “I really do.” Then, like he absolutely meant it, he added, “Be happy, okay? And take good care of yourself.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
Then he and his tie and his white lab coat were gone.
I looked down at Peanut, who was scooting around now, scratching his bum enthusiastically on the grass.
Peanut paused to look up at my face, and I paused to look down at his, and the two of us silently agreed: I would definitely need to find a new vet.
Twenty-Four
I WENT HOME that afternoon and painted like crazy.
I had two days before the portrait had to be delivered to the gallery before the show.
I had never tried to complete a painting in such a short time frame before. My old method could take weeks. But I didn’t have weeks. I had two days.
I’d do what I could do and let the rest go.
I’ll be honest and say: I liked this painting. I couldn’t entirely vouch for the face, but everything else was strong, compelling work. The curve of his shoulder. The slant of his collarbone. The shadow around his Adam’s apple. Plus, the colors, which were just the right combination of bright and muted—happy and sad. The whole thing had an energy about it—a frisson of emotions—that was just … appealing.
It wouldn’t win, of course. A faceless portrait was the last thing these judges were looking for.
But it would be something true. Something I could be proud of.
When I texted a snapshot of it to Sue—now a married woman in Edmonton, Alberta—she texted back. Wow!
Do you like it? I asked.
It’s phenomenal!!! she texted back. That torso!! Then after a pause, This might be the best thing you’ve ever done.
That made me kiss the phone. Think it’ll win? I texted back.
Not a chance, Sue replied. Then she added, But if anybody can win while losing, it’s you.
* * *