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And Call Me in the Morning

Table of Contents

And Call Me in the Morning

Willa Okati

And Call Me in the Morning

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eISBN 978-1-60737-509-8

Editor: Georgia A. Woods

Cover Artist: Croco Designs

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* * * * *

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Chapter One

Falling in love with his closest friend had never been something Eli planned to do with his

life. Wasn't as if he could have stopped it, though.

Sometimes love just happened.

Even if it took him a while to figure that out.

* * * * *

“There you are.” Zane laid down the heavy, ivory-colored menu he'd been idly flipping

through as Eli approached, making his way through the maze of tables at their regular bistro.

“I almost thought you weren't going to make it.”

Eli sat with a thump, running his hand through his dark brown hair, cut short but still quite

capable of standing on end. He grimaced when he discovered he'd forgotten his stethoscope,

still wound around his neck.

“Long night?” Zane asked, already waving their server over with the universal “coffee

here” gesture.

Eli relaxed and let Zane take care of him. Some days, a man truly appreciated a friend

who'd have his back when he needed a rock to shore up against. “Long, long night. Three-car

pileup at an intersection. I didn't want to leave before everyone was stable.”

“That's my boy.” Zane shifted out of the way to let their server pour Eli's cup. She was a

pretty thing, well packed into her curves—curves that she offered not so subtly for display.

Zane ignored them. He'd taken Eli's face in his hands and begun to assess him for signs

of exhaustion. The guy had good hands, firm and dry and dexterous. They felt nice and cool

against Eli's skin. He let Eli go with a light slap to the cheek. “Your eyes look like burned holes

in a blanket. You should go home and get some rest.”

“Like I'd miss a chance at a fine, elegant brunch?” Eli rolled his eyes.

“Heaven forbid.” Zane gave good deadpan. “Jeez. This is the kind of place I fear running

into my family.” How moneyed Zane's family was, Eli didn't know. Coming from an ivory tower

was a sore spot for Zane, who much preferred the life he'd chosen in a grittier world.

Eli segued to spare Zane any discomfort. What were friends for, right? “You were on last

night too. How'd you manage to get away in time for a shower and a sharp morning suit?”

“Questions, questions.” The corners of Zane's eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Unlike some

of us, I leave when my shift's done.”

“Since when? You're as much of a workaholic as I am, if not more. A hospitalist's work is

never done, especially at Immaculate Grace. What was I thinking when I chose that as a ca-

reer, anyway?”

“That you're a glutton for punishment?”

“True enough.” Eli drank deeply of his coffee, almost moaning in appreciation. The influx

of better-than-decent caffeine stimulated his brain. “Before I forget, I got those concert tickets

you begged me for. Two, even.” He patted his dark brown shirt pocket. Plain clothes for a

plain man, built tough to last, Chicago born and bred for forty-three years.

Unlike Zane, who looked as fresh as a daisy in a casual white linen jacket, pale violet but-

ton-down, and pressed slacks. Pretty as a picture, coming across as maybe five years young-

er than his forty-one. Zane brightened and made a grab. “Good seats?”

“I'm told they're the best. Ah-ah-ah.” Eli tapped his pocket again. “I also got advance tick-

ets for a Cubs game when the season starts. Fair is fair. I try not to fall asleep during the

chorale or chamber music or whatever you want to call it, and you endure beer, umpire heck-

ling, and giant foam fingers.”

“Done and done. You drive a hard bargain.” Zane clinked coffee cups with Eli. He hadn't

looked away once, but Eli liked that about Zane. When he gave you his full attention, nothing

else seemed to matter to him. All part of the Zane package, and it made him the best doctor

Eli had known. “I—” He stopped, interrupted by the chiming of his pager. When he checked

the number, he grimaced. “Damn. Sorry, I've got to take this. Keep that warm for me.”

“What did I tell you? Workaholic. Hey! Do not let them talk you into coming back to the

hospital today.”

Zane waved backward at Eli as he walked off. Eli watched him go, amused.

A different server, young and male, approached with the coffeepot. Eli suspected the wait-

ress had gotten fed up with flirting and traded off. Fine by him. This kid had a good eye for re-

fills. He held his cup up. “Keep it coming, but we're not ordering yet. Still waiting for two.”

And they'd better hurry, if they know what's good for them.

Eli wasn't a huge fan of this bistro. Without Zane there to provide a buffer, the place was

too rich for his blood. Made him feel like any second someone with a pedigree was going to

jump out from behind a column and ask him what a working-class stiff like him thought he was

doing here.

“Of course, sir. I'm sorry if I'm being rude,” the waiter said, deftly pouring. “If I could

ask—you two make such a handsome couple. How long have you been together?”

Not this again. Eli didn't even have to ask what the kid meant. Wasn't the first time he and

Zane had been mistaken for a couple, and he'd bet his hard-earned MD it wouldn't be the last.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but we're not.”

The waiter's coffeepot slipped. “You're not—oh. Oh my God, I'm so sorry.”

“No problem.” Eli waved him off before the kid could apologize again. He'd almost gotten

used to the assumption. Whatever people saw in Zane and him, he had no idea. Felt like be-

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