Page 85 of Wrong Number Right Doctor

“I know.”

The elevator arrives. The doors open.

For a second, neither of us moves.

Then I step inside.

Before the doors close, he says, “Eat something.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.

“Goodbye, Dalton.”

His gaze stays on mine. “Goodbye, Maggie.”

The doors close. I lean back against the elevator wall and let out a breath.

Then my phone buzzes.

A text from him.

Dalton: Not coffee.

I laugh so suddenly the woman beside me startles.

For the first time all morning, I feel almost okay.

Chapter Eleven

DALTON

Marcus is waiting outside the exam room when I come back from walking Maggie to the elevator. He’s pretending to read a chart.

The chart is upside down.

“You’re subtle,” I say.

He looks at the folder, turns it the right way around, and doesn’t appear embarrassed. “I’m gifted in other areas.”

“Not this one.”

“No, not this one.” He falls into step beside me. “So.”

“No.”

“I didn’t ask anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was about to ask several things. That’s different.”

I keep walking. He follows, because Marcus has never respected silence.

Marcus smiles into his coffee. “I remember Maggie.”

“You met her for thirty seconds.”

“No, I knew about her before that. Brachial plexus Maggie. Wrong-number Maggie. The woman who had you texting in the parking garage at one in the morning like a teenager with malpractice insurance.”