Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Forty-Seven

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I stare ahead like a confused idiot, unable to do much more than blink in shock for several seconds.

What in the hell of all hells is Mindy, of all people, doing at my apartment? And this early in the morning?

She's wearing a black and silver ruffled dress that looks like it could buy this entire apartment complex and maybe even the entire street leading up to it. Her hair is in the same sleek bun from last night, but she looks as fresh as ever, as if she just got back from a full day at the spa.

Goodness, did she even sleep last night?

She walks in past me before I can say anything.

"Do you always wait a century before answering your door?" she scolds, taking off her coat and making herself comfortable on the armrest of my couch.

She looks around tentatively before her eyes settle on me.

"Nice place," she says, but there's nothing in her expression or tone that even hints that she's remotely impressed by my apartment.

Great. A nice dose of sarcasm in the morning from someone I don't particularly want to be conversing with right now. But seriously, why the hell is she here?

Oh God, maybe last night she thought I was coming on to Dexter inappropriately? I really need to clear that up so that there are no misunderstandings.

"Mindy, listen, about last night—"

"I'm not here for small talk, little bird," she says sternly, cutting me off. "Sit," she gestures over to the chair opposite her as if this is her place.

She seriously may be the bossiest person I've ever met. She scares me, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I can't help but admire her confidence and, of course, her fashion sense.

"You didn't text me when you got home last night," she says. Her tone is casual and nonchalant, but even in the little time I've known her, Mindy does not strike me as the kind of person who would bring something up for no reason.

I really hope she doesn't have the wrong idea about me and Frost. It's even more obvious to me now that they definitely do have a past together, one that probably goes further back than either of them have led me to believe.

"Yeah, uh...I'm sorry about that. I forgot, I was just really tired when I got back," I say. It's the best I can offer. I really did forget, but it's not like I thought she was being serious either way, so I definitely wouldn't have texted her even if I did remember.

I randomly wonder if she knows his wife, if she's ever met her. She must know he's married. Suddenly, I realize I don't ever want to meet his wife. Both the guilt and the physical manifestation of her existence would be way too much for me to deal with.

"Well, I'm gonna cut right to the chase," she says, pulling out a folder from her eye-catching purse.

She hands it to me, and I accept it warily.

"What is this?" I ask.

"You're not to open it until after I leave," she simply says, removing a piece of imaginary flint from the ruffles of her shoulder pad with a perfectly manicured nail.

Jeez, this woman always looks like a million bucks. She's even making my couch look better by just sitting on its damn edge.

My gaze moves away from her and goes to the folder, and I look at it closely, trying to figure out what it is.