My Boyfriend and Friends Stole My Heart Surgery Fund for Their Trip novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: No Favors

Vicky lies about the deposit to her surgeon, who brought his greyhound to her clinic, and he calls it; Dillon texts that they land Sunday.

I did not go home.

Home had Dillon's razor in the bathroom and his jacket on the hook.

I drove to Harbor Veterinary, which stayed open until six on Saturdays.

Biscuit trotted ahead of me through the back door.

Our practice manager looked up from the front desk and said, "Oh, honey."

I had not said anything yet.

She came around the counter, took Biscuit's face in both hands, and then mine.

"He's fine," I said. "I'm fine. Can I just sit in the back for an hour?"

"You can sit in the back until Monday."

I sat on the stool in the supply room with Biscuit's head on my foot and watched the clock over the autoclave.

At 4:50 my phone showed a missed call from the hospital.

At 5:01 it showed another.

I let both of them ring.

I had told the finance office on Thursday that the deposit would be there on Saturday, and I had believed it.

I was still staring at the screen when the bell over the front door rang, and the manager called back through the wall.

"Vicky, we've got a walk-in. Can you do intake? Tech's in surgery."

I wiped my face with my sleeve and went out.

A tall man stood at the counter holding the leash of the thinnest, grayest dog I had ever seen.

The dog's back foot was wrapped in a gray sock, and a thin line of red was coming through it.

"Torn dewclaw," the man said. "Caught it on a fence. He's fine, he's just offended."

He had a low, dry voice.

He wore a plain navy jacket, and he had steady hands, and I knew them before I knew his face.

Dr. Hartigan had put the same hands flat on my sternum three weeks ago while he listened to my chest and said, "Take your time. There's no rush on any of this."

He looked at me.

I watched him decide whether to say hello.

"Ms. Merrow," he said.

"Dr. Hartigan."

"Lorcan is fine. It's a Saturday and I'm holding a dog."

"What's his name?"

"Moss."

"Hi, Moss," I said.

The greyhound leaned his whole skinny body into my hip.

I opened a new chart and typed his name and Lorcan's without thinking.

"Is this your regular clinic?"

"It is now."

I glanced up, and one of his eyebrows had moved a fraction.

I did not know whether that was a joke.

"The tech will see him in ten minutes," I said. "You can wait in room two."

He did not go.

"Ms. Merrow. May I ask something about the hospital?"

My stomach went cold.

"The finance office tells me the deposit for your surgery date was due at five. The system says it didn't come in."

"It's handled."

"Is it?"

"Yes. There was a bank error. It'll post Monday."

"Monday," Lorcan said.

"Yes."

He stood very still, still holding Moss's leash.

"Ms. Merrow, I'm not asking as your surgeon, so you can tell me to mind my own business."

"Okay."

"Is it a bank error?"

Behind me, in the doorway to the back, Biscuit let out a small sigh.

I should have said yes again.

"No," I said.

"Do you have the money?"

"I will."

"That isn't what I asked."

I looked at his hands on the leash.

"My boyfriend moved my savings out of my account while I slept," I said. "He and my best friend spent it on a house in the Keys. They took my dog too, but I got him back."

I said it fast, to get it out of my mouth.

Lorcan did not say he was sorry.

He did not tell me to call the police.

He said, "How much is the deposit?"

"Nine thousand."

"I can make some calls and have the finance office hold your date through Friday. That's within my authority."

"Thank you. That's kind."

"It isn't kind. It's scheduling."

"And I'll pay it by Friday."

"Of course."

"I don't take favors," I said.

It came out sharper than I meant.

"I'm serious. I'm not a person people take care of. I pay what I owe."

He studied me for one long moment.

"Understood," he said. "No favors."

Then he held out his hand, palm up.

I did not know what he wanted me to put in it.

So I handed him the clipboard.

"Fill out the top half," I said.

He took it and smiled, very slightly, with only one side of his mouth.

"Yes, ma'am."

Moss's tech came out and took him to room two, and Lorcan followed, writing his address on my form with a pen he had borrowed from my counter.

I stood there with my pulse going and told myself it was the valve.

The manager appeared at my elbow.

"Who was that?"

"My surgeon."

"Your surgeon has a dog named Moss?"

"Apparently."

"Hmm," she said, and went back to her desk.

My own phone buzzed against my hip.

It was Dillon again.

"Babe, our flight got moved up. Landing tomorrow 4pm. I love you so much, we need to talk. Please be home."

I looked at it for a long time.

Then I typed back one line, so he would come.

"I'll be home."

I did not tell him anything else.

I wanted him to walk through my door and find out the way I had, in front of people who were not going to look away.

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