Match Made in Heaven
1329 Words
She was too honest, but he wasn’t surprised. He had suspected the same. “Well, it worked,” he started. “But can I ask why?”
“Because you were being an arrogant jerk.”
His face darkened, and she could tell he wanted to argue, but their server chose the moment to present them with their food. They sat back and waited while Dr. Warren scowled and blew the man off before he could ask if they needed anything more.
The confusion on the server’s face diminished when Irene smiled sweetly at him.
Once he was out of earshot, Dr. Warren leaned forward and whispered angrily, “Do I know you from somewhere? You had met me a minute earlier, and you decided to jump to conclusions?”
“I spoke to you over the phone the other day, actually,” she hissed. “You were just as much of an ass then as you are now. Also, you made my coworker cry after you humiliated her in front of her patient. Doesn’t feel good, does it?”
Surprisingly, Dr. Warren didn’t respond. He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking stressed out. He took a moment before sighing and picking up his fork to begin eating. He didn’t look at her, and neither of them spoke.
She picked up her own fork warily, concluding that this was the most ridiculous date she would ever be on. She didn’t know why she was still seated.
When he looked up, he was calmer. His tone was measured when he spoke. “You’re right, Irene. I was being a d**k that day. I was having a terrible day and shouldn’t have taken it out on someone else.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. He was apologizing sincerely. She was… relieved.
But she couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Hey, you should tell her that, not me.”
Despite being the truth, she felt terrible the moment she said it. He was trying to own up to his mistakes, and she ruined it. The least she could have done was accept his apology.
“Sorry,” she mumbled quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He looked ready to argue, but held back. His green eyes flashed to hers, but he ignored her otherwise. An awkward moment passed between them with nothing but the soft clinking of their forks hitting the plates.
Finally, Irene released a sigh. “Can we start over? This is stupid, and you are right. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and… done what I did.”
“I just moved here, and it’s too soon to hate people. I don’t enjoy hating people but you pissed me off and yelled at me. I dislike being yelled at more than I dislike hating people.”
His eyes met hers again, now slightly bemused. “I didn’t yell.”
“Speaking in a low but hateful voice is another form of yelling,” she argued. “It attracts less attention but hurts the person on the other side more.”
He shrugged, knowing she was right. Then he looked at her again, his expression serious as he leaned in. “So, do you hate me?”
‘What the hell does he want from me?’
She mulled it over. “I don’t ‘like’ you,” she confessed. “But hate is a strong word, considering I don’t know you. Honestly, I don’t think much about you, so it’s a moot point,” she lied.
He smirked knowingly, and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. All of this would be easier if he had a receding hairline or a potbelly. But no! He had to be attractive.
“Whatever you say, Irene.”
She was suddenly paranoid that he somehow knew about her lustful thoughts.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively. A little too defensively. She was sure because his brows shot up in surprise.
“It means nothing,” he replied simply.
She hummed in disbelief. They continued eating.
After a moment, she said, “You don’t strike me as the type to go on blind dates.”
Dr. Warren cleared his throat. “Andy bugged me day and night until I gave in. He said something about us being a match made in heaven.”
They scoffed simultaneously.
“What an ass. We need to get back at him somehow,” she plotted.
He was intrigued. “Like what?”
“I don’t know…” she grumbled before her eyes lit up with an idea. “We should set him up with Dr. Stone! Have you noticed the s****l tension between those two? You could cut it with a knife.”
Dr. Warren threw his head back and laughed. She realized it was the first time she had seen him smile genuinely. And it was so beautiful, her insides twisted into a mess. She had to work fast to compose herself and look unaffected.
“Actually… they have a fling once,” he whispered conspiratorially.
Her eyes widened with interest, and she leaned in. “They did? Do elaborate.” She took a mouthful of her food, watching Dr. Warren expectantly.
“There isn’t much else to say. They had s*x, and she ghosted him. I don’t know what happened, but Andy seems to think it’s because he is a nurse and she a doctor.”
She bristled at the comment even though she knew he didn’t mean any offence. “Really?” Her words were slow and deliberate. “He’s not good enough for her? Is that what it means?”
Dr. Warren looked appalled at her accusatory tone. “I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “That is what Andy thinks.”
“And what do you think, Dr. Warren?”
He paused. “I think he is right.”
Irene recalled the basic steps of anger management. She counted to three. They had been doing well in the past couple of minutes. And he went ahead and ruined it all.
Dr. Warren stared at her warily, sensing her internal struggle.
It took every ounce of control in her not to argue. “Is that what you think as well? That doctors are better than nurses?” she questioned calmly.
“No! I never said that,” he blurted out.
“But Dr. Stone does.”
“Well, I am not Dr. Stone.”
She returned to her food. When she looked up again, he was peering at her with a small smile.
“What?” she snapped.
The curve of his lips didn’t falter. “Is it your nature to be defensive?”
She scowled and tore at the steak. “No.”
“I see…” He watched her for a moment. “The steak is innocent, you know.” He pointed at it with his fork.
She sighed and picked up her drink, taking a large gulp. She was wound up, and trying to calm down was difficult. But they were getting along, and it made her more nervous.
She signaled for the server to bring another drink.
“So,” she started conversationally, hoping to lessen the animosity she had created between them. “Do you have a first name or should I keep calling you Dr. Warren?”
She knew what his name was, of course. But names were ceremonial. She wanted his permission to call him by his first name. Otherwise, she would be sure he still hated her, and everything would remain professional.
“I just realized you were calling me Dr. Warren all this time,” he said with a smile.
“In my head, I do,” she clarified.
“Brenden. My name is Brenden,” he offered. “I’d actually prefer if you called me Brenden.”
- Writer
