I level him with a look and he shrugs unapologetically. It’s kind of nice, though, seeing him like this. Particularly after him having to hide half of himself for so many years. It’s only in the last few decades that he’s embraced his final form, someone who– in his own words– has too much love to give to confine himself to any one gender.
Even so, the idea of him flirting with Quinn makes something tighten uncomfortably in my chest. Ridiculous, I know, given my stance on humans and the fact that I’ve literally met Quinn once.
‘Aren’t you even curious?’ Cam says, his voice low, brows pinched.
I huff out a breath. ‘About what?’
‘Come on, Florence,’ he says, eyes softening. ‘He’s an absolute dead ringer for Josiah– practically has his name, too. You must wonder if…’
‘If what?’
‘If it’s the universe giving you a second chance.’
I snort a breath, somewhere close to a laugh. ‘Cam, you and I have been alive long enough to know that the universe is nothing if not a cruel bastard.’
He shrugs again, his lips pulling into a smile. ‘Maybe.’
For a man of science, Cam sometimes surprises me with his fluffiness. I can’t fully believe he’s suggesting such a thing. Don’t get me wrong, I obviously wish that could be true, but I can’t see any world in which it is. And I’m definitely not prepared to risk having my heart broken all over again.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on this particular medical mystery. Or a little illicit flirting on the side. I just won’t tell Cameron that.
‘Fine,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘Give me the damn phone.’
Cam hands over his work phone with a delighted squeal, the kind of sound that isn’t at all befitting an ancient creature of the night. I tap the patient info section in Quinn’s file and press the call link on his contact details, nervous energy humming through my chest like a heartbeat.
He picks up after three rings, voice rough, like he just woke up. ‘Hello?’
‘Quinn, it’s Florence,’ I say as professionally as I’m able to. Cam tries to suppress a giggle next to me. ‘From the bar.’
I hear the low rumble of Quinn’s laugh. ‘You really didn’t need to clarify. I think you’re overestimating the number of husky-voiced Florences I know.’
I had hoped to limit the flirting while my oldest friend and current boss is failing to act his age next to me, but apparently he’s going there already.
‘I’m calling in a professional capacity,’ I add, hoping that will help my cause. It makes Quinn stop chuckling, at least.
‘Professional?’ he asks, obviously confused.
‘I work at the blood clinic,’ I explain. ‘You came in for a test last week?’
‘Yes?’ His voice is different now. Sharper. Maybe a little worried. It’s a tone I’m used to when dealing with patients, but it’s hitting a little differently coming from him.
‘There’s been an issue with your sample,’ I say, doubling down on the professionalism to avert any rogue feelings. ‘It happens sometimes. It’s possible it was kept for too long before testing or there were contaminants of some kind. We’d like you to repeat the test as soon as possible.’
He makes a noise I can’t quite decipher– something a little strangled. ‘Is that necessary?’
I falter. Three seconds ago he was flirting with me, so I can’t help feeling his words as a rejection. Stupid, I know, but here we are.
‘It’s definitely recommended,’ is what I settle on.This isn’t about me, I remind myself. If Quinn is ill, then it’s only right he should have all the facts.
He’s silent for a while. Five seconds, maybe more. When he finally speaks, I’m more relieved than I should be.
‘Will you be doing the test?’
The vulnerability in his voice is new, and it speaks to a core part of me. It’s instinctive at this point in my life to meet vulnerability with compassion. It’s what’s made me good at my job all these years.
‘If you’d like me to,’ I say softly, and there’s another pause on the line when I do, although I know he’s heard me.
‘Florence,’ he says, his voice quiet and tentative, ‘can I tell you a secret?’