I nod like I knew it. But the truth is, no matter how much I want to say that I indeed fucking knew it, I definitely didn’t. The last thing I expected Debbie to do was rope Brian into this and turn him into her little messenger when she saw I wasn’t taking her nicey-nicey bait.

I’m not annoyed because she disturbed Brian from his busy life of prepping women getting a new rack at the surgeon’s office, but rather because she’s just taken her “doesn’t think I can handle this urn thing” to a whole new level. If I wasn’t so Debbie’d out right now, I’d dial her for the second time in twenty-four hours and call her ass out. But I know Debbie Austin. My effort would be futile anyway. She’s a villain whose superpower is making inappropriate, rash decisions. I can’t penetrate that, no matter how fueled I am to confront her.

“Well,” I begin. “I appreciate her calling in the reinforcements, but I can assure you—and her—that I’m fine and everything is under control. So, thank you for your visit, but you can get back to work now.”

“Relax, Rosen. My rounds at Cedars don’t start till noon. I’m in no rush this fine morning.”

“Cedars? As in... Sinai?” I ask.

Brian peels open his black Members Only jacket and looks down at his chest pocket. My eyes follow his down to the script font. The hospital’s name is clear as day, along with Chief Resident right underneath it.

“Try to ignore the ink stain,” he suggests. “My pen exploded earlier, but have no fear. I’m the proud owner of a Turbo Washer 6000. It’ll rinse it out of these scrubs before tomorrow’s shift, no problem.”

“And what about that spit-up just below your pocket? Will your spiffy washer get that, too?”

“Did I get vomited on again? Damn, Pediatrics can be brutal.” Brian licks his thumb and tries to wipe it off. Gross.

“Pediatrics? I thought you were working with the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, prepping them for breast augmentation surgeries, last time we saw each other?” I chase the dig with a sip of piping hot coffee—his piping hot coffee. The one he placed on the bench next to me before unhooking my shoes. Oops.

“Come on, Charlotte. Cut me some slack. The internship with the plastic surgery office was years ago,” he says. “And you’re welcome for the coffee. It’s good, right? Alfred’s makes a killer honey-chai latte.”

So he’s a children’s doctor now? At the same hospital where Decker died? I try not to think too far into all of that.

“So, just curious, but what did Debbie tell you? Besides my exact location, I see.”

He gestures to the bench. “May I?” I nod and he takes a seat next to me. “So, Debbie. Yeah, she just told me about the fire and how Decker was returned to you, and then she just suggested that maybe I...see if you need a hand with anything and told me you were at a place called WeHot. I googled it and now I’m here.”