“Oh, God,” Marcie moaned. “Make it stop.” She knocked over a glass on the nightstand trying to find Jennifer’s phone. “Please have mercy. Please. Make it stop!”
Jennifer shook herself into action, pushing out of Bobby’s arms, and snagging the phone just as it stopped ringing.
Marcie leaned up and cast the 8:00 a.m. time on the clock a disapproving glance. She dropped to her back, covering her face with her hands. “Please tell me that call was necessary.”
“It’s my service,” Jennifer said and punched the re-dial button. “They wouldn’t call unless a patient had an emergency. So yes. It’s necessary.” She’d arranged to open the clinic late that afternoon for a few hours.
After talking to her service, Jennifer called her client, only to find out that her patient, a poodle, had eaten a bag of chocolates, and was sick.
“How soon can you be at the office?” Jennifer asked the poodle’s owner, glancing at Bobby, who was watching her intently.
As her client responded, Jennifer turned away from Bobby, surprised to hear how far the customer drove to see her, but pleased when she was told it was because she was trusted.
Jennifer glanced at the clock. “Then nine-thirty? Does that work?”
With the time set, Jennifer hung up the line, Bobby’s gaze catching hers, his expression unreadable, but warm, like those strong arms holding her only minutes before.
“I’m going in your closet, Marcie,” Jennifer said. “I don’t have time to go home and shower and still make it to the clinic.”
“If you will stop talking so loudly,” Marcie murmured, “I will give you my entire closet. Actually please stop talking. Please take what you need and leave.”
Bobby smiled and stood up. “I’ll take that as a cue to go check on Mark.”
Forty-five minutes later, Jennifer stood in Marcie’s kitchen surrounded by the aftermath of the party, a mess of trash, cups and food everywhere. Jennifer had showered and dressed, though her options had been limited considering Marcie dwarfed her by three inches and all her pants were too long. She’d settled on a simple black shell dress, bare legs and heels that thankfully fit.
Jennifer poured coffee in a mug and set it in front of Marcie, who sat at the bar, her pale faced smudged with dark circles under her eyes.
“Thank you,” Marcie said grumpily, and not all so convincingly.
“I didn’t make the coffee for you,” Jennifer said. “I made it for everyone who has to tolerate you while hung over. I’m headed to the clinic so thankfully I’m not included in that group.”
Marcie scoffed and shoved a clump of unruly hair from her eyes. She truly looked like death warmed over. “Oh, please. You’re no better than me without your coffee. And I loaned you clothes. You should be nice to me.” She started to sip her coffee and stopped to add, “And I’m the bride. That’s a free ticket to tolerance, even if I admitted that I only had decaf in the house.”
Jennifer gave her a mocking smile and leaned on the counter. “Which is why I made you coffee, not everyone else. I was joking about that part. Sort of. A little. Not really.” She blinked. “Wait. Are you telling me the coffee in that canister I used is decaf?”
“Uh-huh,” Marcie said, sipping from her cup with a keen eye. “Mark felt I was jittery with the wedding approaching.”
“Okay then,” Jennifer said. “I’m headed to Starbucks so you can keep the thermos I was about to fill. Actually, I’ll take it and put a second cup in it.” She narrowed her gaze. “Be nice to your husband-to-be while I’m gone or I won’t bring it back.” The two lovebirds had been snapping at each other yet again this morning, and Jennifer was starting to worry about them.
“He tricked me into agreeing to skydive,” Marcie said. “And he forced decaf on me. You know how serious that is.”
Bobby sauntered into the kitchen, looking weary, his eyes heavy. Jennifer had a feeling he hadn’t slept at all. “Do I smell coffee?” he asked.
“It’s all your fault,” Marcie accused, glaring at Bobby. “You and your stupid ‘let’s go skydiving’ suggestion. Well, Bobby, I’ll tell you right now, if I’m skydiving, let’s go today when I’m nice and sick so I can aim in your direction.”
“Reservations are for tomorrow,” he said, snagging a cup from the cabinet and filling it. “Mark and I planned it so everyone could recover from the party. And don’t either of you tell me you can’t go.” He eyed Jennifer. “I know you close your clinic that day.” His gaze shifted to Marcie. “And Mark has the bar covered.” Jennifer handed him the vanilla creamer on the counter without thinking, knowing he liked it. He took it from her, a twinkle in his eyes, telling her he caught what she’d done.