He thought it was strange too.
He knew she was still feeling awkward around him.
He knew that was entirely his fault.
He also knew that the edge of awareness he felt when he was with her was something he was going to keep to himself. He and Alison had been similar in many ways, which was why when they drifted in and out of their ill-fated marriage, neither of them had been hurt. The fact that their separation hadn’t left so much as a bruise on either of them showed the depth of feeling involved.
Harriet wasn’t like that. He suspected she was the type of woman who bruised easily, which meant he needed to keep well away from her.
They walked along the snowy streets, their breaths clouding the freezing air. This part of Manhattan had a small, intimate feel. Snow fell like frozen confetti, muffling street noise and carpeting the cobbled streets. In this part of the street the trees reached across and touched each other, street lamps bathing the snow with an ethereal glow.
She walked with purpose and confidence, jeans tucked into her snow boots. He decided he preferred her like this to all dressed up in stilettos. Not because he particularly cared what she wore, but because it was obvious she cared. She seemed comfortable. A thousand times more comfortable than that night he’d first met her.
“It looks like a Christmas card.” She paused under the light from the street lamp and took a photograph, then turned the camera toward Madi and took a photo of the dog. “I’ll send that to Debra.”
“You’re sending her a photo of her dog?”
“Of course.” She fiddled with her phone, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated. “All our clients love to see what their dogs are doing when they’re away, and a photo is so much stronger than words.”
“That photo will tell her I’m not taking good care of her dog.”
She pushed her phone back into her pocket and looked up. “Not true. It will tell her you’re taking excellent care of her dog.”
“The fact that you’re involved tells her I couldn’t cope.”
“The fact that I’m involved tells her you cared enough about Madi’s welfare to call me. She’ll be impressed.”
Ethan wasn’t convinced. He thought his sister was more likely to roll her eyes and make some comment about the fact that he was in charge of people’s lives, and yet couldn’t take care of one little dog.
He was also aware that once Debra discovered Harriet was staying in his apartment, he would be a target for more of her matchmaking efforts. His sister might not be as slick as a dating app, he thought, but she was a lot harder to delete.
Aware that he could no longer feel his fingers, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “Are you always this positive?”
“Is it being positive? I see it as the truth.” She paused. “In the ER your job is to determine what a patient needs, is that right? So if a patient has a brain injury you don’t handle it yourself, you call the expert in that specialty.”
“That’s right.”
“This is no different.” She waited as Madi sniffed the snow. “You called an expert. Not that I’m comparing myself to a neurosurgeon, you understand. I’m guessing you must see some pretty gross things.”
“Gross is all a matter of interpretation.” He watched as she cleaned up after Madi. “What you’re doing now is pretty gross.”
“It’s part of responsible dog ownership. Have you ever had anything come into the ER that you couldn’t deal with?”
“It’s my job to deal with it, just as it’s your job to deal with all dogs, even one you find challenging.”
“It’s hardly the same thing. If it’s a little child, don’t you get emotional?”
“Children are generally dealt with by the pediatric trauma unit. But whoever the patient, I try and detach myself emotionally because I need to be able to think clearly. Child or adult, their loved ones are relying on me to make the best decisions. I can’t do that if I’m thinking about the emotional impact on the family. It doesn’t help anyone.”
“That sounds great in theory, but is it really that easy to do in practice?”
“Not at first. It’s a skill I learned over time. Or maybe it’s not a skill. Maybe it’s a failing. Or maybe I just got a little too good at disconnecting and not feeling.”
“So you’re a block of ice inside?”
“I didn’t say that.” He paused. “It’s not that you don’t feel emotion, more that you learn to suppress it and then process it in your own way, in your own time.” But he’d discovered that if you suppressed emotion enough, it seemed to disappear altogethe
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