After Edith left, the young doctor wandered back into the room.
Justin sat there, brooding, too wrapped up in his own frustration to acknowledge his childhood friend’s return.
Thorpe Yates shrugged off his white coat, instantly shedding a layer of professional restraint. He lounged in the single armchair by the window, casting several sidelong glances at Justin.
But Justin didn’t spare him so much as a look, too lost in his worries to
care.
Propping his chin on his palm, Thorpe watched Justin and finally broke the silence with a teasing drawl. “So that’s the girl you’ve been pining after all these years? Odd–I can’t recall ever seeing her.”
Justin’s brow furrowed a little. “You never met her when we were kids. Of course you don’t remember her.”
Thorpe looked even more perplexed. “We grew up together. You’ve had a crush on her since you were seven, and yet I’ve never met her?”
Justin couldn’t muster the energy to argue. The words Edith had said just moments ago replayed in his mind, and the gloom in his eyes deepened. “Next time you’re around Edith, try not to look so sour.”
Thorpe, blindsided by the rebuke, spread his hands in protest. “Hey, I wasn’t giving her any sort of look. Everyone knows I’m just not the smiling type.”
Justin narrowed his eyes. “Everyone might know that, but Edith doesn’t. That scowl of yours is going to make her uncomfortable.”
Thorpe’s eyes widened as he gestured helplessly, as if appealing to the universe. Who was he supposed to complain to about this?
He could only frown and ask, “She told you my face puts her off?”
A faint smile flickered across Justin’s lips. “Not exactly. But I imagine it
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does.”
Thorpe looked even more indignant. “Oh, I see. So now you’re taking her side over your oldest friend?”
Without missing a beat, Justin replied, “She’s not just anyone. She’s my
wife.”
Thorpe clicked his tongue, thoroughly unimpressed. “Please. You’re not even married yet.”
Justin arched a brow, his tone unwavering. “But I will marry her. Just be ready to bring a decent wedding gift.”
“Unbelievable. This is hopeless,” Thorpe muttered, shaking his head. He’d had enough of this conversation–it felt like no matter what, he was the one left frustrated.
He stood, scoffing, “I’m not putting up with this. I’m going straight to Mr. and Mrs. Hawksley to tell them what you’ve been up to!”
Justin’s brows drew together; he knew exactly which grievances Thorpe
wanted to air.
His demeanor softened, a hint of guilt creeping in. “Come on, Thorpe,
aren’t we best friends?”
Justin tried to appeal to Thorpe’s better nature, hoping for mercy.
But Thorpe only snorted, unimpressed. “All the more reason I should tell them, don’t you think?”
He shrugged and went on, “Last time, you knew you were allergic to that perfume but wore it anyway. Now this–knowing full well you’re allergic to curry, yet you still ate it, nearly landed yourself in the ER. If you keep this up, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
Irritated, Justin rubbed his brow and admitted, “Edith served it to me. It was hard to say no.”
Thorpe looked about ready to faint from exasperation.
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What was he supposed to do with this guy?
He honestly couldn’t tell if Justin was just showing off or something else. entirely.
With a heavy sigh and no small amount of resentment, Thorpe grumbled, “So whatever she puts on your plate, you just eat it? Great. What if one day she-”
Justin shot him a sharp look, cutting him off before he could finish. “Enough. Don’t lump Edith in with those kinds of things.”
Thorpe rolled his eyes. “With all your allergies, I can see this happening again. So do me a favor–next time you plan to pull a stunt like this, shoot me a message. I’ll have someone else cover my shift at the hospital, so I’m not constantly rushing back here for your emergencies.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.