Page 38 of Top Shelf

Viktor stands on the other side of the counter. His blond hair is roughly tied back, and his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black jacket.

I study him. “A proposal for me.”

“Yes.”

“A proposal of what, exactly?”

His jaw shifts once, and his eyes flick back and forth between mine.

“Marriage.”

Sloane’s fingers pause on her keyboard, and I slowly blink. The patient with the intake form looks up, and across the waiting room, the coffee machine makes a violent, yet somehow very appropriate, choking sound.

I open my mouth, then pause to consider his words for another second, and when they still don’t make sense, I continue. “I’m sorry, did you just say a marriage proposal?”

“Yes.” His eyes dart briefly to Sloane. “I see now this was maybe not an ideal location to say it.”

Sloane, to her credit, doesn’t react beyond a slow, confused frown. “Marriage proposals aren’t currently listed under our appointment types.”

“Oh my god,” I say, grabbing Viktor’s sleeve before he makes this worse. “My office. Now.”

He lets me drag him down the hall, which is probably the most cooperative he’s ever been inside Moreno Clinic. I shove open the door, push Viktor inside, and close it behind us. My office is small, but it’s sufficient for my need to occasionally hide from reality.

There’s a desk, two chairs, a bookshelf, a treatment model of a knee, and a sad plant I rescued from Carina, who kept trying to unintentionally drown it, so she says.

Viktor stands near the door, taking up too much room. His eyes move around the space, then back to me.

I fold my arms. “Please explain why you walked into my workplace and announced in front of a full reception area that you had a marriage proposal for me.”

“I was nervous.”

My mouth springs open to reply, but his words make me pause momentarily because I’ve never heard him admit something like that so quickly before.

“You were nervous?”

“Yes.”

“So you went with a public marital ambush.”

“I had planned to ask to speak with you privately, but then I saw you and my head got loud, like crickets in a meadow.”

A stupid sensation rolls through my chest, and I squash it immediately. “You saw me and forgot you were in a workplace and decided to propose? That is insane.”

“Yes.”

“Cool. I’m putting that in your chart.”

“I am no longer your patient.”

“Well, if you were, I’d be making you stretch out your hamstring until you cry like a baby goat.” His mouth twitches, and I point at him. “No. Don’t almost smile at me—explain.”

He reaches into the inside of his jacket, pulls out a folder, and holds it out. The folder is thick, organized neatly with tabs at the side. My name is printed on the front in clean black type.

Dr. Heidi Grant: Proposal for Marriage Agreement

I stare at it, then back to him. “Is that a contract for our marriage?

“Potential marriage, yes.”