“We’re getting up early tomorrow, eating breakfast and heading out,” Chelsea Smyth told Maggie. “We’ll probably get in a hundred miles during break.”
“I hope you’re planning to get into really good shape for the CDT,” Maggie said. “It’s a six-month commitment.”
“I think I could do it now,” Chelsea told her.
“So could I!” her brother, Remy, insisted.
“I hope when you do I’m here to cheer you on,” Maggie said, giving the girl her change. “Good luck tomorrow!”
“Maggie?”
She looked up into the beautiful blue eyes of the man next in line, eyes she knew so well. “Andrew. What are you doing here?”
“I took Mindy home a little early and hoped I could catch you. Rob Hollis told me you were here with your dad. You might’ve let me know.”
“Why? We’re fine. Better than fine,” she said, bagging up the eggs for the Smyth kids. “I hope you had a good time here, and have a safe hike,” she said. She waited for the kids to clear the door and then turned on Andrew. “Little busy here. You should have called.”
“Maggie, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, frowning.
“Bagging groceries, mostly.”
“No, what are you doing here? The rumor is you quit!”
“That’s not quite accurate. I decided to take some time off since the practice is closed and I’ve just been picking up hospital shifts here and there. Then Sully needed me, so it’s a good thing I have the time. I don’t have any patients counting on me.”
“When are you going back?” he asked.
“That’s really not your concern, now is it?” she said.
“You’ve lost your mind, is that it? You’re a surgeon. A gifted surgeon. You can’t stay here!”
“I don’t want to talk about it with you. You really should have called. I could’ve saved you a trip.”
“You’re ignoring my calls.”
“Well, there’s a reason for that. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
“We’re not enemies, I hope. Come on, Maggie. Can we talk? Please? We have things to talk about.”
“This is a bad time,” she said.
Sully came from behind her, from the kitchen or storeroom. For seventy and in recovery from heart surgery, apparently his hearing was perfect. “Hello, Andrew,” he said. “How’ve you been?”
“Sully! Damn, it’s good to see you,” Andrew said, grabbing Sully’s hand and pumping it. “You look great! Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m doing fine. Not crazy about the new diet, but I’ll live.”
Andrew laughed. “You have really good color.”
“I was told I’d come out of it looking better than when I went in. I have freshly widened arteries to float my oxygen through. As a beauty treatment, I don’t recommend it.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” Andrew said with a laugh. “What a relief to see you. Did Maggie say I called? Just to see how you were?”
“She might’ve mentioned it, thanks. But we’re doing fine.”
“Maggie, are you going back to Denver anytime soon?” Andrew asked.
“I haven’t made any plans.”
“Can you break away for a few minutes? I won’t keep you long.”
“Sure. Meet you out front in a few.”
She watched him walk away, leave the store as a couple of guys walked in. “I’ll get this, Sully,” she said.
“Nah, go deal with him. I’ll live through a checkout or two.”
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“Stop pampering me. I’m doing a damn sight better after heart surgery than he did after his knee surgery. You’d think he’d delivered a baby elephant or something. And don’t you dare use me as an excuse for not going back to work. Go on now. Get rid of him.”
That made Maggie laugh a little, though she was in no mood to laugh over Andrew. It was true, though—what a lot of complaining he’d done after a knee scope. It was his first experience on that side of the knife, poor baby. “I won’t be long,” she said.
“Be as long as you want,” he said. “Just make sure you don’t invite him to dinner.”
Oh, Sully wasn’t happy with Andrew, and he didn’t even know the half of what Andrew had put her through. It was so rare for Sully to get out of sorts with someone and Maggie hadn’t even explained all that went on between them. But then, Sully usually guessed right.
Andrew was leaning up against his car, texting or reading his email. He straightened when she walked out of the store and down the porch steps. He really was so good-looking. She remembered the first time he suggested dinner. She’d been so surprised—he wanted to date her? He was one of those classically handsome men—chiseled cheekbones and chin, tall with dark blond hair, striking blue eyes, enviable physique. And he was so nice. But he was an ER doc—they had to have certain gifts, had to know how to deal with frightened, hurting people, had to be swift and skilled. Andrew could put patients and their families at ease and get the job done quickly.
“Maggie,” he said. “You’re looking good.”
“Thank you. Listen, we don’t have anything to do here. You said you were done. Let’s go with that.”
“Come on, Maggie, that wasn’t exactly it,” he argued, reaching for her hand.
“No, that was exactly it. Before I came back here, before Sully’s heart attack, you said I was too depressed for you, that you couldn’t deal with it anymore. Of course my practice was shutting down, I was thinking about filing for bankruptcy, I was being sued by the family of a sixteen-year-old I lost on the table, and I was trying to stay ahead of the bills by picking up call for other doctors, mostly nights and weekends so I could give interviews and depositions all week. Oh—and did I mention, I’d just lost my baby? The baby I wanted but you didn’t. I’m so sorry I wasn’t more cheerful, but there you have it.” She shrugged. “Sorry, babe, that’s all I’ve got,” she said, mimicking him. “It turned out Sully needed me. That’s all I have to say, Andrew.”
“Look, I want us to be friends,” he said. “I want to lend support if I can...”
She laughed a little. “You want us to be friends?” she asked, aghast. “I’ve never been treated more cruelly by anyone in my life, Andrew. You asked me to abort a baby because it wasn’t convenient for you, then you bitched because I grieved. Andrew, hear this, please. I don’t want to be friends. I spent a couple of years as your friend. That meant taking vacation to look after you when you got a meniscus tear repaired, listening to your rants over your crazy ex-wife and hearing a million complaints about the working conditions in your ER. Being your friend appears to mean that