He has a lot of nerve. As he walks right in front of my car, I muse to myself that all I would have to do is switch my foot from the brake to the gas, and it would change his entire world. It would wipe that smirk off his face, that’s for sure.

But I’m a civilized person. I will not mow down a pedestrian in the middle of a crowded parking lot.

What I’m going to do is calmly find another parking spot.

When I arrive at the clinic, I am huffing and puffing and sincerely regretting my choice of heels. I will certainly have blisters tonight, and after all that, I’m still fifteen minutes late. It’s an embarrassment. Not to mention my pink face, my hair coming loose from the French twist I carefully tied, and the beads of sweat on my forehead.

“Dr. Hale!” Gloria, the plump middle-aged receptionist, beams at me when I walk in. “How are you?”

Those three useless words. How does she think I am? I’m sweating like a pig. “Is Mr. Harris in the room?”

“Actually, he rescheduled.” She smiles, revealing a gold filling right in front. “So you have five minutes until your first patient.”

I feel a rush of relief, accompanied by a flash of annoyance that Gloria couldn’t have called or texted me to inform me of the canceled visit. She manages to track down the phone number of every single eligible male in her family between the ages of thirty and fifty, but she can’t manage to give me a heads up about a cancellation.

“Hey, Adrienne. How’s it going?”

I swivel my head to the computer station behind the front desk, peering at the man navigating the screen with an ergonomic mouse. When I donated money to the clinic, part of it was earmarked to convert the entire clinic from paper records to electronic medical records. I found the entire paper system maddening, and it allowed things to fall through the cracks, to the detriment of my patients. And this man, Luke Strauss, has been enlisted to help the clinic transition. Technically, he works for the EMR company, but it seems like he has become a full-time employee at the clinic recently as the technologically illiterate clinicians struggle with the new system. I must admit that I am one of them, although in the end, it will pay off. Electronic medical records are the present—this clinic was living in the past.

“It’s been a rough morning,” I admit, because I believe Luke actually wants to know the answer.

“Yeah.” He cocks his head to the side. “I can see that. How about some coffee?”

It is not in any way Luke’s job to get me coffee, but I know from experience that he will insist on getting it despite my protests. So instead, I nod. “Thank you.”