“Darling, I would love a cup of coffee,” Mr. Yan says to his wife. She looks at me with eyebrows raised, asking if that’s okay.

The fun part of my job is that I generally get to say yes to almost any patient request because...why not? You want to go skydiving? Go for it. Want to have a full day sex marathon, do it! Want to finally try ecstasy? I’ll load your IV for you.

Well, maybe that one is a little too illegal, but when Mrs. Yan asks if her dying husband is allowed to have coffee, I am reminded that people do not know how to do this. Sitting by the side of someone they love while they live their last days is not something they do very often, nor do they want to.

“Of course,” I tell her with a smile.

Once she’s in the kitchen, Mr. Yan touches my hand. “You look different.”

I have to hide my blushing cheeks by turning toward my bag to put back my things. “How so?”

“I don’t know. You seem happier. Brighter.”

Turning back, I give him a warm smile. “Hm. It’s been a good week, I guess.”

There’s a knowing look in his eye, like he knows exactly what I’m talking about, but I can’t tell my seventy-year-old patient that I’m in a good mood because I’ve been having orgasms for breakfast every day or that I was spanked this morning and it turned me on more than I expected it to, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

“Oh I miss that look you have right there.” Sitting back, he seems to retreat into his memory for a moment. I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up.

“How did you and Mrs. Yan meet?” I ask.

“We were high school sweethearts,” he answers with a smile. “I didn’t deserve her, but luckily for me, she put up with my cocky attitude, and once I realized that I would never get so lucky for as long as I lived, I asked her to marry me.”

“That’s so sweet.”

Just as I turn away to finish packing up, he grabs my hand, and I almost panic, thinking he’s in pain. When I look into his eyes, he’s staring straight at me. “When you find someone who fits, go all in.”

The look on his face is so serious that it almost chokes me up. Immediately, I think of Rafe, the easy comfort between us now. Waking up next to him and how easily he can put a smile on my face like this morning. It could be like this forever. I could go all in.

My appointment with Mr. Yan leaves me feeling in good spirits as I drive down the boardwalk toward my favorite coffee shop on the corner. I want to make things right with Ezra, and I’d like to do it in person. He usually works from home, but I figure I’ll stop by the shop, hoping to catch him at work, but his car isn’t parked near the orange brick shop called Wicked Goods. It will never get old how much everything around here is labeled Wicked, even though the town’s real name is Wickett. It’s like the locals have just accepted the nickname over the real one.