pulled out her chair for her, and they perused the menu together. After a few minutes of chatting about food, things felt more relaxed. The waiter brought red wine and big glasses of water.
The muted chatter around them, the tinkling of forks against china plates and the glorious smells of garlic and fresh bread filled Neve’s senses. She was starving - she hadn’t sat down all day, let alone had time for a proper meal.
She took a sip of red wine as Michael told her all about his colleague, Beth, who was forever in a feud with one partner or another.
Vaguely, she realized he’d been talking about Beth a lot lately. She made a mental note to figure out whether she should be worried.
Then her phone dinged loudly in her bag.
Oh god, what now? They knew she had plans.
Michael looked down at his plate.
“Let me turn that off,” she sighed.
She plucked it out of her pocket and glanced at the message for just a second.
Ugh. Stupid Angela was in a screaming match with a patient. Clearly McGrath had hired her for her cup size, not her references.
Neve was pretty sure the place might just fall apart when she wasn’t there one of these days.
She fired off a quick response.
“It’s like they completely forget how to do their jobs the minute I walk out the door. I swear to god, Angela would have been fired a dozen times by now if she didn’t have such big…”
Michael was staring.
“Sorry! I’m turning it off,” she said immediately, and set it down on the table, showing him her empty hands as if she had lowered a weapon.
“Neve, I think we need to talk,” he said.
He was speaking in the kindest, softest voice.
Like he wanted her to think of peppermint tea and being rocked to sleep in her mother’s arms.
Oh, no.
“Neve, I’ve been giving it some thought. And I’m not sure this is going to work,” he told her sadly.
The floor dropped out from under her. For a minute she couldn’t breathe.
A swirl of emotions flashed before her, and she picked one, almost at random.
“You invited me to the place where we had our first date so you could break up with me?” she asked indignantly.
“No. I invited you here so I could propose to you on our anniversary,” he told her, his voice thick with compassion. “And if you had walked through that door two hours ago, I would have…”
“Michael.”
“But I can see that would have been a mistake,” he continued. “I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life playing second fiddle to a bunch of rich, entitled losers.”
There it was. His bitterness had finally won out over his pity.
And that’s what it came down to in everyone’s minds. Because her patients were wealthy or famous, it was assumed that they didn’t have real issues. And because they were considered unworthy patients, Neve’s job was trivial. Which might as well be saying that Neve herself was trivial, since her job was her identity.
“They have serious problems, Michael,” she said tightly, trying not to engage.
“ That’s what you’re taking from this?” he snapped back. “Your only response is to defend them?”
His voice was louder now. People were starting to stare.
“It doesn’t have to be like this forever,” she told him.
As if in answer, her phone began to buzz on the table.
She hadn’t turned it off, after all.
And the caller ID was clear.
Sanctuaries, Malibu
“It doesn’t? Show me, then,” Michael said, nodding toward the phone.
She shrugged lightly and held eye contact with him.
The phone went to voice mail.
Then it began to ring again.
Neve tried not to think about Angela and the new patient. Jocelyn Wylde was a mess. She was so young, with so much potential. Potential to conquer the world. Potential to slit her own wrists if Angela screwed up…
The phone trilled in a text.
9 11 M.S .
A nd another .
p lease neve this is bad
J esus Christ . This could be it.
How was Neve supposed to live with herself if that nineteen year old
The muted chatter around them, the tinkling of forks against china plates and the glorious smells of garlic and fresh bread filled Neve’s senses. She was starving - she hadn’t sat down all day, let alone had time for a proper meal.
She took a sip of red wine as Michael told her all about his colleague, Beth, who was forever in a feud with one partner or another.
Vaguely, she realized he’d been talking about Beth a lot lately. She made a mental note to figure out whether she should be worried.
Then her phone dinged loudly in her bag.
Oh god, what now? They knew she had plans.
Michael looked down at his plate.
“Let me turn that off,” she sighed.
She plucked it out of her pocket and glanced at the message for just a second.
Ugh. Stupid Angela was in a screaming match with a patient. Clearly McGrath had hired her for her cup size, not her references.
Neve was pretty sure the place might just fall apart when she wasn’t there one of these days.
She fired off a quick response.
“It’s like they completely forget how to do their jobs the minute I walk out the door. I swear to god, Angela would have been fired a dozen times by now if she didn’t have such big…”
Michael was staring.
“Sorry! I’m turning it off,” she said immediately, and set it down on the table, showing him her empty hands as if she had lowered a weapon.
“Neve, I think we need to talk,” he said.
He was speaking in the kindest, softest voice.
Like he wanted her to think of peppermint tea and being rocked to sleep in her mother’s arms.
Oh, no.
“Neve, I’ve been giving it some thought. And I’m not sure this is going to work,” he told her sadly.
The floor dropped out from under her. For a minute she couldn’t breathe.
A swirl of emotions flashed before her, and she picked one, almost at random.
“You invited me to the place where we had our first date so you could break up with me?” she asked indignantly.
“No. I invited you here so I could propose to you on our anniversary,” he told her, his voice thick with compassion. “And if you had walked through that door two hours ago, I would have…”
“Michael.”
“But I can see that would have been a mistake,” he continued. “I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life playing second fiddle to a bunch of rich, entitled losers.”
There it was. His bitterness had finally won out over his pity.
And that’s what it came down to in everyone’s minds. Because her patients were wealthy or famous, it was assumed that they didn’t have real issues. And because they were considered unworthy patients, Neve’s job was trivial. Which might as well be saying that Neve herself was trivial, since her job was her identity.
“They have serious problems, Michael,” she said tightly, trying not to engage.
“ That’s what you’re taking from this?” he snapped back. “Your only response is to defend them?”
His voice was louder now. People were starting to stare.
“It doesn’t have to be like this forever,” she told him.
As if in answer, her phone began to buzz on the table.
She hadn’t turned it off, after all.
And the caller ID was clear.
Sanctuaries, Malibu
“It doesn’t? Show me, then,” Michael said, nodding toward the phone.
She shrugged lightly and held eye contact with him.
The phone went to voice mail.
Then it began to ring again.
Neve tried not to think about Angela and the new patient. Jocelyn Wylde was a mess. She was so young, with so much potential. Potential to conquer the world. Potential to slit her own wrists if Angela screwed up…
The phone trilled in a text.
9 11 M.S .
A nd another .
p lease neve this is bad
J esus Christ . This could be it.
How was Neve supposed to live with herself if that nineteen year old
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