Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [15]
On day four, a nurse burst into the room. “Natalie Emerson’s family, come now!” she ordered.
“Oh, Jesus,” my mother said, her face white as chalk. She staggered, my father caught her and half dragged her down the hall. Terrified that our sister was slipping away, Margaret and I ran ahead of our parents. It seemed to take a year to get down that hall—every step, every slap of my sneakers, every breath was punctuated with my desperate prayer. Please. Please. Not Natalie. Please.
I got there first. My baby sister, my birthday present, was awake, looking at us for the first time in days, smiling weakly. Margaret careened in behind me.
“Natalie!” she exploded in typical fashion. “Jesus Christ hanging on the cross, we thought you were dead!” She wheeled around and charged out to smite the nurse who’d taken a decade off of each our lives.
“Nattie,” I whispered. She held out her hand to me, and you can bet that I promised then and there to make sure God knew how grateful I was to have her back.
“YOU DID WHAT?”JULIAN ASKED. We were strolling through the four-block downtown of Peterston, eating apricot danish from Lala’s Bakery and sipping cappuccinos. I’d already dazzled my friend with my story of clubbing the neighbor, completely outranking his tale of having successfully cooked chicken tikka masala from scratch.
“I told her I was seeing someone. Wyatt, a pediatric surgeon.” I took another bite of the still-warm pastry and groaned in pleasure.
Julian paused, his eyes wide with admiration. “Wow.”
“Kind of brilliant, don’t you think?”
“I do,” he said. “Not only have you taken a stand against crime in your neighborhood, you’ve invented another boyfriend. Busy night!”
“I just wish I’d thought of it earlier,” I said smugly.
Julian grinned, bent down to give Angus a piece of his pastry, then resumed walking, only to pause again in front of his place of business. Jitterbug’s Dance Hall, tucked between a dry cleaner and Mario’s Pizza. He peered in the windows, checking that everything was perfect within. A woman walking behind us glanced at Julian, looked away, then did a double take. I smiled fondly. My oldest friend, though he’d been a pudgy outcast when we’d first met, now resembled a clean-shaven Johnny Depp, and the woman’s reaction was fairly typical. Alas, he was gay or I would have married him and borne his children long ago. Like me, Julian had been burned romantically, though even I, his oldest friend, didn’t know the details of his long-ago breakup.
“So now you’re Wyatt’s girl,” he said, resuming our stroll. “What is his last name?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t invented that yet.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Julian thought a minute. “Dunn. Wyatt Dunn.”
“Wyatt Dunn, M.D. I love it,” I said.
Julian turned to flash a smile at the woman behind us. She turned purple in response and pretended to drop something. Happened all the time. “So what does Dr. Wyatt Dunn look like?” he asked.
“Well, he’s not terribly tall… that’s sort of overrated, don’t you think?” Julian smiled; he was five foot ten. “Kind of lanky. Dimples. Not too good-looking but he has a really friendly face, you know? Green eyes, blond hair. Glasses, don’t you think?”
Julian’s smile faded. “Grace. You just described Andrew.”
I choked on my cappuccino. “Did I? Crap. Okay, scratch that. Tall, dark and handsome. No glasses. Um, brown eyes.” Angus barked once, affirming my taste in men.
“I’m thinking of that Croatian guy from E.R. Dr. Good-looking,” Julian said.
“Oh, yes, I know who you mean. Perfect. Yes, that’s Wyatt to a T.” We laughed.
“Hey, is Kiki joining us this morning?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “She met someone last night and really thinks he’s The One.” Julian chorused the last few words along with me. It was Kiki’s habit, this falling madly in love. She excelled