She cared for everyone around her.
Anytime she didn’t have an answer to something, she found it.
Her organizational skills and let’s face it, I’d never met anyone more intelligent in my life.
All Geneviève did was laugh quietly to herself.
“I’m serious.”
She glanced over at me. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Those marks are med school marks. If anyone could pull it off, you can. Think about it for a minute. Everything about you fits into this mold.”
“Not gonna happen, Moreau. Med school takes years. And major bucks. Neither of which I have.”
I frowned at her. “You’re twenty-two.”
“Yeah, and most med students would be in their fourth or fifth year by now. Even if I jumped in now, I’d be way behind.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Behind who? What does it matter how old you are?”
She shook her head. “I probably wouldn’t even get in.”
“You won’t if you don’t apply.”
“A few good marks in nursing school doesn’t mean I should be a doctor.”
“Pages of fantastic marks does, though.”
“Go to sleep, Moreau. You’ve got a game tomorrow. And if I don’t get some study time in, nursing school will kick me out.”
“Okay, Dr. Martin. Or should I say, Dr. Moreau? Since we’re engaged and all.” I chuckled as I rolled over onto my other side.
“Obviously it would be Dr. Martin-Moreau,” Geneviève mumbled, and I grinned so wide I thought for sure my face might crack.