Doctor’s Duties by K.C. Crowne
Chapter 19
ABBY
What else could I do but facepalm? I made sure my parents were ahead of me, then pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a silent sigh.
“Lexi’s here?” asked Mom.
We didn’t need to wait long before I heard footsteps coming down the hall, followed by Lexi appearing with a sheepish expression on her face.
“Ears were burning,” she said. “Figured I’d come in and put the rumors to rest.”
“What is she doing here?” asked Dad, jutting a finger toward Lexi.
“She helped with the food,” said Logan. “And did a great job. When she heard about this dinner, she insisted on cooking for you all. Lexi’s eager to make sure our meeting goes off without a hitch and wanted to do all she could to help.” Sure, he’d messed up in letting it slip that Lexi was here. But he was butter-smooth in explaining it.
“And I made your favorite, Mr. Whittington,” said Lexi with an easy smile. “Peppercorn dusted filet mignon with roasted asparagus, and a little New York-style cheesecake with strawberry compote. I mean, I could toss it all in the trash and you guys could order take-out. But it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”
A couple of tense moments passed. Then Dad sighed and waved his hand through the air.
“Fine, fine. No sense in not serving perfectly good food.” He turned his attention to Logan. “But if you’re looking to get on my good side, you should know that I do not like surprises.” Then he glanced at Lexi. “And you making me a steak doesn’t atone for you being a bad influence on Abigail.”
“Which part of my life am I going to be a bad influence with?” Lexi asked. “The part where I make my own money? Or the part where I created a happy life for myself on my own terms?”
“How about the part where you’re throwing away the best years of your life working when you could be providing a good husband with a family?”
“Sorry, Abby,” she said. “I forgot your dad arrived in Denver through a time portal from the 19th century.”
“Lexi!” I hissed. “Not now!”
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s not spoil my amazing food with bickering. The meat and cheese spread is ready for you in the lounge, and I’ll be putting the finishing touches on dinner.”
Without another word, she turned on her sneakers and headed back down the hall.”
“I hope you’ve got a well-stocked bar,” said Dad. “Because I have a feeling, we’re going to need it.”
“Whatever you want,” said Logan as he led us into the lounge, “I’ve got it.”
“This is such a lovely home,” said Mom, looking around as we made our way through the house. “Let me guess…1910s?”
“Wow, Mrs. Whittington,” said Logan. “You’ve certainly got an eye for architecture. 1912, a bungalow mansion built by one of the heirs to a local ranching mogul.”
“I love the houses here in Denver. Such wonderful and unique design,” she said with a smile. “And please, call me Elizabeth.”
“I agree, Elizabeth.”
Dad flashed her a sharp look, one that suggested he wasn’t pleased with how quickly she was ceding ground. I couldn’t help but smile, having known Mom would be the first to be won over by Logan’s charms.
A spectacular charcuterie board and some stuffed mushrooms awaited us in the lounge. But it was the two bottles of red wine that held far more appeal to me. Dad stepped over to one and picked it up, giving it a once-over before setting it back down.
“2017 Logan Estate,” he said. “A fine year for a good red.”
“Abby told me you appreciated California wines,” Logan said as he prepared the glasses. “So, I decided to break out a little something special for the occasion from the cellar.”
“Cellar, huh?” asked Dad.
“That’s right. One of the niceties left by the previous owner. I’d love to give you a tour after dinner if you’re interested.”
“Hm. Perhaps.” His tone was gruff, but I knew Dad well enough to know that him being slightly dismissive was far better than him being outright hostile. If Logan kept this up, he might very well win both of them over.
Logan opened the bottle and poured four glasses, passing them out when he was done.
“To new bonds,” he said, raising his glass.
“That sounds lovely,” said Mom, raising her own glass.
“I like it,” I added.
Dad said nothing, instead tapping his glass without a word and sitting down. He was upset about something, and Logan and I shared a look of mild consternation before sitting down.
“Something wrong, Dad?” I wanted to get right to the point. Not that I’d ever had to worry about Dad beating around the bush when it came to something that made him upset.
“You’re a professor at Colorado Med,” he said to Logan. Then he turned his eyes to me. “And you’re his student. I’m not in academia, but I don’t need to be to know that’s a serious breach of protocol.”
It was a good point, and showed that Dad had, true to form, done his homework.
“You’re right,” said Logan. “It is a serious breach of protocol. Unfortunately, we didn’t know it was going to be the case until the school year started.”
“But you’re teaching a class with her in it now, correct?” asked Dad. “How do you plan on rectifying that?”
“In two ways,” said Logan, his tone still cool and calm. “First, I’ll be retiring at the end of the year and switching my focus over to writing.”
“But in the meantime,” said Dad.
“In the meantime, we’ll be creating a secondary class to cover the overflow from our other oncology courses. I’ll be overseeing it, but the classes will be taught and graded by my associate professors. Once those are up and running, I’ll have Abby transferred over.”
“And the faculty is OK with this?” Dad asked.
“I spoke with the department head, letting her know what’s going on with me and Abby, how we began dating before we knew any of this was happening. She decided to cut me a little slack since I’ll be retiring – on the condition she’s out from under my direct supervision as soon as possible to prevent any scandal.”
I smiled, happy to know that Logan had handled it all. Dad sat back, taking a sip of his wine as he thought it over.
“And how did you two meet?” asked Mom with a smile. “I’m sure it’s a great story.”
“It’s most definitely that,” said Logan. “We met at a local café. Some jackass was hitting on Abigail, and I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t having any of it. Normally, I don’t like to get myself involved in other peoples’ affairs, but in that instance…I don’t know. I couldn’t help myself. I got up and told the guy to screw off. He stormed out of there, and when he was gone it hit me how stunning Abby was. I introduced myself and we chatted.”
I grinned, realizing that he was simply retelling the story of how we had met.
“And we hit it off right away,” I said, making sure to omit the minor detail of how his lips had been on mine in the parking lot. “We made a date for that night and the rest is history!”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” said Mom, setting down her plate and clasping her hands together. “So many young people are meeting on those awful apps anymore. It’s nice to hear that some of you are still meeting in person.”
“Young people,” said Dad. “How old are you, Logan?”
“Thirty-nine,” he said, not a trace of hesitation.
“Thirty-nine. We’re both in our mid-fifties, which means you’re nearly closer to our age than Abigail’s. You think that’s not going to cause any problems down the line?”
“It’s fine, Dad,” I said. “It’s not like he’s some geriatric or something. He’s a little older than me, sure, but I like that. He’s a doctor, and he’s already made some headway in his career. So, not only do we get along, but I’ve also got someone to help me out in my own path.”
“You’re still dead-set on this, aren’t you?” asked Dad. “Going to school, making your own way, becoming a doctor. Foolishness, if you ask me. Why even work when you’re with someone who seems to be more than capable of providing a good life for you?”
“Mind if I field this one, hon?” asked Logan, his eyes on me.
“Um, sure.”
“Mr. Whittington, Elizabeth, I’m sure you’ve both had big plans for your daughter ever since she was a little girl. And from what she’s told me, those plans involved a good husband and a family and a life where she didn’t have to worry about anything other than what her kids were going to wear that day.”
“Pregnant and in Prada,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “It’s a bit of a joke, but that’s what I always said. My own mother, God rest her soul, didn’t have the easiest life. I know what it’s like to struggle, and she and my father did their best to make sure I had everything I could want. And when it came time to find me a good husband, they did that too.” She took Mr. Whittington’s hand. “It worked out perfectly. Why wouldn’t I want that for my own daughter?”
“Maybe because your daughter might not want what you want for her?” I interjected. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t resist. “Pregnant and in Prada,” I said with a sneering tone. “Maybe – if it’s Prada I bought with my money.”
“You don’t need your own money when you’ve got someone taking care of you,” said Dad, his tone taking on a sharp edge.
“I don’t need someone taking care of me,” I responded. I could feel the tension thickening in the air. It was how I knew a fight was on the horizon, just like a barometer warned of a coming storm. “I want to find my own way and —” “What if she could have both?” Logan’s voice stopped the fight in its tracks.
“What?” Mom and Dad asked simultaneously.
“What if Abby could have someone to take care of her and she could pursue her dreams?”
Dad sat back with his arm draped over the back of the couch.
“Yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”
Logan smiled.
“By telling you both that, well, we’re married.”
What?!
