“The doctor seems to think I should hold off until the second trimester. My blood pressure is still high. We won’t know if I’m at risk of staying that way throughout the pregnancy until next month.”
“I didn’t even think about that.”
“A part of my mind is working. I need to stay here for a while. If this pregnancy is high risk, I’m going to need my family.”
“I didn’t think you got along with them.”
“So far everything is fine. I’m sure all hell will break out when they realize why I’m really here. But they’re family. They have to put up with me.”
Mary laughed. “If they hurt more than they help, I’m here. Use and abuse me, babe.”
“I appreciate that, Mary. More than you know. I’ll do better with calling.”
“You better.”
“Love ya.”
“Love you, too.”
Walt had managed more sleep as a resident than he did since Dakota left. He’d pushed away from her because he worried about losing her. Where the hell was the logic in that? He ended up losing anyway and the pain cut deep.
Problem was, he didn’t know where to look or what key words to tell Mary so she would reveal her whereabouts.
He slammed into his apartment and checked his messages. He sifted through his mail and noticed a shutoff notice for his water bill.
“Ah, crap.”
He paid two bills before he thought of Monica. Maybe his friend knew something about his girlfriend. Women talked, after all.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Walt. I hear you’re being groomed for the exec position at Borderless.”
“They’ve offered. I haven’t accepted yet.”
Monica was oblivious to the anxiety in his voice. “Really, why? I thought you’d jump.”
“I’ll probably take it. I just need to . . .” How was he going to play this? “Ah, damn, Monica. Dakota and I had a disagreement. She’s not taking my calls.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you’ve heard from her. You two seem to be hitting it off.”
“Can’t say I have. Have you gone to her house?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “She left town. Mary won’t say where.”
Monica actually laughed. “Must have been one hell of a disagreement. Is that what you called it?”
He wanted to growl. “I was an ass, Monica. I’ve told Mary the same thing and she still doesn’t budge.”
“If Dakota left mad at you, Mary won’t say a thing.”
“That’s what I thought.” Frustration boiled his blood. “Thing is, right before she left she had a bout of high blood pressure that gave her a nosebleed that needed treatment to stop.”
Monica sighed. “Is she OK?”
“I don’t know. She won’t take my calls.”
“Chances are she won’t take mine either. Tell you what, why don’t you give me Mary’s number. I’ll see if Dakota’s healthy.”
For the first time in days, relief filled Walt’s heart. “Thanks, Monica. I owe you.”
Monica offered a little laugh. “You know, Walt, it does my heart good to hear you so flustered over a girl. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It’s my fault we fought. I just want a chance to talk to her.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Monica hung up laughing.
Mary was packing her briefcase with patient files for the few she had who needed to talk in the evenings when the phone rang.
“This is Mary,” she answered, assuming a patient was calling.
“Uh, hi Mary. This is Monica Fairchild.”
“Oh, hi Monica. How are you?” And why are you calling me?
“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”
Mary set her case down, noted the time. “Good. Running out the door at the second.”
“Oh, sorry. This won’t take long. I got a call from Walt—”
“Stop. I’m not going to tell anyone where she is.”
“I would think not.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
Monica paused. “I want to know if she’s healthy? It’s one thing to keep Walt wondering where she is, but to think she’s sick somewhere is . . . cruel.”
“Is that as cruel as, let’s say . . . stopping any and all phone calls and brushing off your lover for no good reason?”
“He did that?” Monica asked.
“Communication went to zilch overnight.”
“That doesn’t sound like Walt. Why would he do that?”
Mary sat on the edge of her sofa, glanced at her watch. Two minutes and she’d have to cut this conversation off. “My guess is it has something to do with his late wife. Struggling with his growing feelings—”
“What? His late what?”
“Wife. You didn’t know he was married before?”
Monica squealed her answer. “No! Are you serious?”
“I hate gossip. I thought you knew.”
“I did not. Walt was married?”
“Yes.” Lord, how much of his story should she tell? Then again, Monica was Walt’s friend and calling for recon on Dakota. “Medical school, or sometime in there. She had colon cancer . . . no wait, pancreatic cancer. Sounded like he married her to keep her parents from hooking her up to a bunch of tubes or something.”