Playing Doctor

Chapter Fourteen

People who have called:

Kevin (11 messages)

Art (6 messages)

Mom (3 messages)

People who haven't called:

Gray

He hadn't called. He said he'd call and here it was, Saturday evening, and he still hadn't called. What happened to wanting to watch a movie with me?

The malignant neoplasm.

I drummed my fingers on my dinner plate. Maybe I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was run down by an ambulance. Or maybe a child bit him and he got rabies. I shook my head. I'd spent this morning volunteering at the clinic-if he'd gotten rabies Dee would have mentioned it. More likely he found another Barbie to harass.

Well good riddance, because I didn't want him in any case. I picked up my fork and stabbed it into the chicken I'd baked for dinner.

"Ah... Daph?"

Glaring at my sister, I tossed my fork down. "How many times do I have to tell you my name is Daphne?"

"You don't have to tell me. I choose not to use it." She exchanged looks with Rio. "If you weren't in the mood for company, why did you invite us over?"

Because I'd told Gray I was having dinner with them and I'd had a moment of guilt.

Rio picked up his plate and stood. "Excuse me."

"Where are you going?" I asked, confused. He'd barely touched his food.

"The living room." He smiled. "Your sister wants to talk to you alone."

Frowning, I looked back and forth between them. "How do you know?"

"She kicked me under the table. That's usually a pretty good indication." He bent and dropped a kiss on Mena's head. "Have a good talk."

"He's so well trained." Mena smiled after him like she'd been dosed with Prozac.

I nodded, thinking about Gray and how he wouldn't have been as quick to comply. If he complied at all.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to pour alcohol into you first?"

"There isn't any problem."

She snorted. "As if."

"There isn't," I insisted. Because there really wasn't. I shouldn't have let Gray coerce me into seeing him again. Neither one of us wanted to see the other. How many times did we have to agree that we were wrong for each other?

"Daphne." Mena leaned across the table. "The last time you said nothing was wrong you ended up quitting your job and couch surfing in my house."

"I'm not sleeping on the couch. I have a bed."

Mena went on as if I hadn't spoken. "I still don't understand what caused you to leave Stanford-"

I crossed my arms.

"-and you're obviously not going to tell me." Her eyes became squinty in the way they got when she was beginning to lose her temper. "But I'll be damned if I have to sit here and watch you mope."

"Don't swear, Mena."

"That's it." She slapped the table and stood. "I'm calling Mom and telling her she needs to come home because you're having a breakdown."