Page 15 of The Quirky Vet

"Okay. Let me see. What is it now? February. So I'll check back in with you…next year?"

"Actually, that doesn't sound too bad." He rolls his eyes and sighs, so I give him the best answer I can. "I'm working stuff out in my head. The most important thing is we're still good, and the world hasn't ended."

"Good to see you focusing on the bright side."

"Always," I reply, my tone dry.

He opens the door for me. We hug briefly, and then I leave, an anxious energy thrumming through me on the short walk back to Gramps's place.

A bit of fresh air might be good for me.

Ever since we returned, Fitz has been checking in with mea lot, asking how I'm feeling about what went down on the Goldie.

It's nice he's being so thoughtful, but it's also uncomfortable because it's forcing me to deal with feelings I'd rather keep buried. It's also stirring up all sorts of random memories.

Things like how a few months ago, when Maisey and Erin went away for a girls' weekend, I was more excited to hang with him than upset about missing my girlfriend.

Or how despite seeing each other almost every day at work and texting and messaging each other outside of work, we never run out of shit to talk about.

Or the way my eyes automatically dropped to his arse as he walked away from the bed we woke up in together the morning after we got married. I've seen his butt before. We've gotten changed in close quarters plenty of times, so there's nothing new about that. But there was definitely something new in the way my body responded.

Let me just say, if there's a bad time to be wearing a cock ring, which has the primary purpose of making an erection harder, bigger, and last longer, that was most certainly one of those times.

Then there's what Maisey said… "I'm not the one you want to spend the rest of your life with."

Or that random dude at the gay bar… "And when did you fall in love with him?"

Not to mention the years and years of knowing smiles my friends think I don't see but do, and the hushed whispers around town.

It's all pointing in one direction, and I feel like I'm losing the battle to keep a lid on all of it. Good thing, then, that I'm just as stubborn as my grandfather and perfectly content to stick my head in the sand rather than deal with shit I'm not ready to deal with.

Gramps's place is only a few streets away from Fitz's and just a few blocks off the main street of Scuttlebutt, which also means it's a handy short stroll to the clinic for me. It's a beautiful old pastel-blue Queenslander. The classic timber facade is adorned with intricate white latticework and wide verandas, though the peeling paint and overgrown garden are a reminder this place needs constant TLC. A beauty, but ripe for restoration.

I know for a fact my mother can't wait to get her grubby little hands on it the second Gramps passes. Another point of contention between us. But hopefully, I won't have to deal with that shitshow for a few more years at least.

I unlatch the front gate and let myself in.

"When do you go back to work again?" Gramps asks across the dining table while we eat dinner.

I finish chewing my steak. "Why are you asking?"

"Because you've been a bloody misery guts ever since you got back from the Goldie, and I'm sick of looking at your sour face."

"Gee, thanks."

"I just hate seeing you like this, mate." He softens his tone a bit. "What's the matter?"

I look up at his weathered skin, deeply lined from decades ofsun and wind, his still-thick silver hair—please let hair genes be another thing I get from him—and his piercing blue eyes.

I trust the old fella completely, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him everything when I got back, so I gave him the key lowlight takeaways of what happened. I told him about the proposal from hell and Maisey dumping me, how the same thing happened to Fitz, the massive bender we went on, and the mother of all hangovers we faced the next morning.

I deliberately didn't tell him about the wholeoops, Fitz and I accidentally got marrieddebacle because, well… I guess that's not a lowlight for me.

"Is it Maisey?" he presses. "Have you heard from her?"

"Actually, yes. I mean, no, I'm not in a funk because of her, but yes, we did speak. She called yesterday."

"And?"