Dr. D Spills the Tea

Cappuccino

The espresso was strong and the company was good.

Audrey, who’d been thoughtfully quiet during the walk to my favorite spot, had lit up when she saw it. She had been a regular during her stay in the city, apparently, and the barista had already started her regular order and written her name on her cup of coffee without having to ask.

It was a bit annoying to admit but Theodore kept proving he had good taste when it came to picking his people.

“So,” she’d said once we’d found a seat at a tiny table just outside, “I’ve already sorted out that I was sent here to make sure you got all your stuff safely. What I can’t figure out is just how close you are with Mr. Blackwell that he’d intervene in your, er . . . affairs.”

Affairs.

It was an appropriate word to use considering the circumstances.

George, I was certain now, had probably had a slew of them and, based on the expression on the young girls face as she peered over her glasses at me, it was clear she thought I was having one of my own. With Theodore, no less. The giggle that left my lips was inappropriate, of course, but I couldn’t help myself, rolling my eyes at the very suggestion of it. Clearly startled by my reaction, Audrey looked confused. She must be confused if she thought I had somehow stolen even an ounce of Theo’s attention away from his beloved counterpart. “Phillip Blackwell is Theodore’s husband,” I said quite plainly, pointedly, “and my best friend.”

The girls eyes widened as she adjusted her glasses before darting down to her coffee. “Oh,” she mumbled into the rim before taking a small sip.

“I’m . . . going to be their surrogate,” I added quietly. Saying it aloud for the first time to someone outside of our bubble felt strange, made the whole thing more real. Her eyes snapped back up to me, wide once more, and I realized there was surprise in her expression. She looked so surprised in fact, that I couldn’t help but ask, “What?” My tone may have been slightly more defensive than I’d meant it to sound.

“Well,” she drawled, quirking a brow, “you’re very beautiful.”

That wasn’t where I thought this conversation was going at all. “You suppose those men would choose someone hideous to have a child with?” The thought alone was preposterous.

“You’re also very successful,” she added. I quirked an eyebrow in question at all of her sudden compliments and she scrunched her brows together. “I mean, sure, things didn’t work out with Sir Douche Bag”—I nearly spit out my coffee at the outrageous nickname—“but there’s plenty of other fish in the sea. I mean, it’s a big sea and you seem well equipped to, er, you know, reel in a good catch.”

The imagery she used was amusing. I imagined myself wearing dockers, a fishing rod in hand, and scrunched my nose. Heels don’t belong in mud. “I’m better off alone,” I muttered, taking another swig of my cappuccino. It was odd but, in the brief pause of conversation that followed, it dawned on me that I’d misspoken. Once I signed the contract, I’d chosen to have not one but two life partners. Co-parenting would be a lifetime endeavor.

“Well, I’m sure they’ll make amazing fathers. There’s probably not a woman alive who’d turn down a chance to get close to Theo Blackwell.” Twirling her coffee with her wrist, she looked slightly distracted and I was pretty sure I knew where her mind had wandered.

“Well, he is attractive,” I hedged.

“Yes,” she breathed almost dreamily.

“And rich,” I added.

“Uh huh." It was a soft sigh.

“And really, really gay.”

Her attention was caught with that one and she let out a small, bashful giggle. I smiled back, surprised by how comforting this odd conversation was. In the time I’d been seated with Audrey, I hadn’t thought about George once. Well, until now. Frowning, I changed the subject: “Did you grow up in New York?”

“Uptown, yeah,” she said, smiling. “I moved here for college since my double major is business and communications. My folks thought I was crazy when I accepted an internship outside of the city.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?”

Her smile tightened a bit. “Mr. Blackwell is a bit . . . intense.”

I could only imagine. “Is he giving you a hard time?”

“No, no,” Audrey said, shaking her head. “It’s just that I haven’t had a chance to settle in.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sheepishly added, “I’d only been there a couple days, you know, before he sent me on a flight back.”

He'd literally uprooted his new intern to come clear my desk and check in on me.

Not that I could complain about it.

Audrey had proven incredibly helpful.

“What were his instructions, exactly?” I wondered.

“To get your things sorted and report back to him.”

That certainly sounded like Theodore. “No offense but I’m surprised he sent you. If things had gone sour with George, I’m not sure how you’d be able to help much.”

Audrey shrugged, obviously just as perplexed by Theo’s decision. “Mr. Blackwell gave me a number to call in case of an emergency.”

Whose number?

“Let me see,” I said, holding out my hand. Pulling out a card from her wallet, she slipped it on the table and I recognized it immediately. Matte black with gold lettering. “Oh, of course,” I mumbled, glaring down at Brent Holding’s business card. Those sly dogs. If I had felt even an ounce of uncertainty about the two men being in cahoots with each other, it was long gone now.

“Do you know him?” Audrey wondered.

Giving a tight smile, I slipped the card back toward her. “Call him.”

“I’m only supposed to call if—”

“Call,” I said, taking a swig of my coffee. “I want to see what he does.”

There was a quiet moment of hesitation where I thought the girl might refuse but, slowly, an excited smile crept across her face, a conspiratorial gleam flashing in her eyes. She pulled out her phone and quickly dialed, clearly elated at having the opportunity to help me cast my first line.