Anything You Can Do

by R.S. Grey

“How about during swim practice?! When I heard you tell Greg Oliver I smelled like a goat?”

  He shrugs. “He liked you and I didn’t want him to. I was seven.”

  “Debate practice when you refused to be on my team?”

  “You wouldn’t have been on mine. We both know it wasn’t fun unless we were competing against each other.”

  Much of our lives follow this pattern, and I’m not surprised to find that he too thought college and medical school would heal him. All those years ago, I assumed moving away would allow me to escape him, and he’d assumed the same. Fortunately, we were both wrong.

  “What do you need at your mom’s house?” he asks as we pull onto our street.

  “The rest of my stuff. They finished fumigating yesterday.”

  He nods, understanding. “Going to move into my guest bedroom permanently?”

  I smirk. “I thought I’d try out your bed for a change.”

  I don’t have to look to know he’s grinning as he pulls up in front of my childhood home. There are two cars parked in my mom’s driveway: her small sedan and an old black suburban.

  We both recognize it right away.

  “Is that Dr. McCormick’s car?”

  I shake my head as I hop out. “It can’t be.”

  I walk up the path and see the TV on through the living room window. I have a house key, but I left it back at Lucas’ apartment. I’m about to knock or ring the doorbell when I see Dr. McCormick walk out of the kitchen with two glasses of wine in hand. He heads right over to my couch and plops down beside my mom. She takes the wine and kisses him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  What. The. Hell.

  “What are you doing?” Lucas asks behind me. “Just knock.”

  But then they’re kissing more and—

  “Oh my god.” I jump and spin around, fleeing back down the path. “RUN. RUN!”

  “What’s wrong! What’s going on?”

  “Dr. McCormick is in there! Kissing my mom!”

  “No shit? Wow, you were committed to taking over the practice. I didn’t even think of getting my mom to seduce Dr. McCormick.”

  “I didn’t either! Oh my god. I need to get that image out of my head.”

  I leap back into his truck and slam the door closed behind me. I can’t look back for fear that they’ve caught us snooping.

  Lucas is laughing in the driver’s seat. “You know it’s totally normal, right? Your mom has been single forever, and Dr. McCormick is a good guy.”

  He’s right. Of course he is. My mom deserves to be happy, and in some twisted universe, she and Dr. McCormick do make a very cute couple, but I don’t want to think about that at the moment.

  “I just saw them French kissing, Lucas—give me a second to wrap my head around it.”

  “Do you think you’ll have to start calling him Dad at work?”

  “Oh my god. STOP!”

  He starts the truck.

  “So I guess we aren’t getting your stuff tonight?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You’re still moving in though, right?”

  “Of course! I don’t think I can ever sit on that couch again!”

  He puts the truck in drive. “Good, then let’s go home. I think I have an old shirt you can wear.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucas and I spend the rest of the weekend locked in his room, barely coming up for air or food. By Monday morning, there’s a distinct musk clinging to his bedding and a half dozen empty boxes of Toaster Strudels and Eggo Waffles strewn around the kitchen floor. We are animals.

  “You clean up the boxes,” Lucas says. “I’ll throw the sheets in the wash.”

  “Okay, and don’t forget, we need to get Dr. McCormick a coffee on the way to the office!” I shout from the shower. “In case word got out about my stint in the criminal justice system.”

  “What if he fires you?”

  “Well I already declared war on MediQuik, so I’ll probably just stay here in bed, scheming and waiting for you to come home every day.”

  “You’d get bored.”

  I turn off the shower and hop out.

  “He won’t fire me.”

  Lucas is at the sink, spitting out toothpaste, and when he sees me stepping out of the shower, dripping wet, I swear he starts to salivate. He turns and assesses me just before I wrap the towel around my midsection.

  “Don’t even think about it.” I level him with a hard glare. “We’ll be late.”

  “What’s the point of living together if we don’t have sex before work?”

  He asks this like it’s a legitimate question.

  “We already had sex this morning, Lucas. And about three hundred times in the last two days.”

  “We have to make up for lost time.” He smirks and my stomach clenches. I know it wouldn’t be hard to convince myself that round two is a good idea, so I flee from the bathroom and lock myself in his bedroom so I can start to pull myself together.

  He knocks on the door. “Hey, you have to let me in. I need to get dressed too.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “We’re mature adults, Daisy. I’m not going to throw you onto the bed and ravish you.”

  I spare a quick glance at the bare mattress. It’s too tempting, so I don’t unlock the door until I’m dressed.

  “I could still hike up that skirt,” Lucas warns as I pass.

  I bat his hand away and head to the kitchen to rifle through his cabinets. I wasn’t kidding about eating all of his food. We’ll have to do a grocery store run after work. Because that’s what we do now. We go to the grocery store together like a…couple. Our mothers wouldn’t believe it if they saw it.

  On the way to work, I psych myself up, trying to think up explanations for the questions Dr. McCormick will have. Whether I agree with it or not, doctors are held to higher standards, and it makes sense. No one wants to be treated by a physician who is mentally unstable—but I’m not. I will plead temporary insanity due to the stress of nearly losing Lucas for good. Dr. McCormick will understand. Also, the fresh coffee from Hamilton Brew should help dull his anger.

  I have it all planned.

  Dr. McCormick is in his office, waiting for me when we arrive.

  “Good morning, Dr. McCormick.”

  He looks up from his desk, which is even messier than usual. I swear there are more files piled there than up front in reception. He swears he is able to keep it organized in his mind, but I have my doubts.

  “Come in, come in. I have something I want to talk to you two about.”

  The talk. Of course. I knew it was coming. It’s why I put an extra packet of sugar in his hazelnut coffee.

  “Right. Here—I brought you this.”

  He takes a quick sip and then motions for us to have a seat. He follows and for a few seconds we’re blocked from one another by the mountain of files on his desk.

  He shuffles a few things around, and at last, we can see him, looking a little weary, probably disappointed.

  “Before you start, you should know I never meant to misrepresent the practice Saturday night,” I begin. “I had no choice. My actions, while seemingly childish, were of utmost importance.”

  He eyes me, confused, then laughs in recognition. “Oh, you’re talking about the middle school dance thing?”

  I gulp. He’s about to give me my walking papers. Report me to the medical board. What will Lucas think? How long will we last if I’m not working, or if I have to move?

  “Yes. Like I said, it was a tiny lapse in judgement—”

  He interrupts me. “That’s not why I called you in here, though frankly, I’m surprised that’s all it took for you to win Lucas over. I figured it would take some sort of miracle after what you’ve put each other through over the years.”

  I don’t argue. I’m a little too stunned for words.

  Lucas reaches for my hand to reassure me.

  “I called the two of you in here because two week
s from now, I will no longer be working here at McCormick Family Practice.”

  “You’re shutting down?!” I gasp.

  I spiral into a panic. He must have heard about MediQuik.

  He frowns. “No. I’m retiring.”

  “But why early? Do you think we can’t compete against MediQuik?”

  Lucas squeezes my hand. “Daisy, let’s just hear the man out.”

  “As you know, my original plan was to stay on a little longer,” Dr. McCormick continues, “to help you two get settled, but I’ve found the love of my life and I don’t want to spend another minute in this office. I have plans. Big plans.”

  “To be clear, you’re talking about my mother, right?”

  His eyes widen. “She told you?”

  “You’re not the only one that can spot love from afar,” I reply, sidestepping the make-out session I witnessed altogether. “I’m happy for you guys.”

  Now, he beams. He is floating on a cloud and I get it. Why would he want to spend another minute cooped up in here? He’s been alone nearly half his life and now he’s happy. With my mom. Ha, who would have thought?

  “We want to buy an RV and travel all over the U.S. Your mom is dying to see Alaska!”

  “And the practice?” Lucas asks.

  “I’m leaving it to you both.”

  He says it just like that. No fanfare.

  “You can’t just give it to us!” I insist.

  He rubs his mustache as if only now considering that fact. “Right. Yes. While I don’t really find it necessary, if you two insist on a buyout, I’ll insist on giving y’all the family discount.”

  We discuss the nitty gritty details of transitioning the company. I can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while, because he already has all the papers in a file from his lawyer.

  There will be disgruntled patients, none too pleased to see their beloved doctor retire, but they’ll understand when we explain that Dr. McCormick is jetting off into the sunset, behind the wheel of an RV, enjoying a much-deserved vacation…with my hot mom.

  He hands off a few packets of paperwork for us to review, but when we walk out of his office a few minutes later, one thing is absolutely clear: Lucas and I have been offered our own practice. We will be co-owners. The thing I’m focused on the most is that prefix: co, meaning joint or joined. That prefix would have sucked the joy out of the moment only a few short weeks ago, but now it makes me smile.

  I moved back to Hamilton, Texas, to take over McCormick Family Practice, to beat Lucas as his own game, and to become the better doctor—the better person, once and for all. I assumed that by achieving that goal, I would be cured of my obsession with him. I thought I would finally stop caring about Lucas.

  But like so much else, I was wrong about that.

  “Does it scare you? To take over the practice with me?” Lucas asks.

  He’s standing right beside me in the kitchen, waiting for me to step away from the coffee pot so he can pour his own cup.

  “It should.”

  He nods, understanding.

  “I mean, the desire to compete with you is like a phantom limb. I’ll probably always feel it, even if it’s no longer needed. It does kind of feel like an anticlimactic ending to our little war.”

  “Do you want it to keep going?”

  I step back and make room for him, in the kitchen and in my life.

  I smile. “No. Do you?”

  He shakes his head adamantly. “Of course not.”

  I nod.

  “Do you want to know why?” he asks.

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me even if I don’t.”

  He looks at me over his shoulder. His dark frames in place. His hair too brown, his smile too tempting. He is a walking dream, and he is mine.

  He shrugs. “Yeah. You’re right. It goes without saying.”

  He makes it three steps out into the hallway before I catch up to him, grab his wrist, tug gently.

  “Sure, but if you were going to say it…”

  He grins and takes his time turning around to face me. I try to bite my lip, to conceal my reaction. It doesn’t work.

  “Because, Daisy, I won. I have everything I’ve always wanted.”

  Epilogue

  Lucas and I are in a church. He’s wearing a tuxedo and I’m wearing a dress that is so poufy, I can hardly stand. We are facing each other on opposite sides of the altar, listening to a preacher drone on and on. I should be paying attention, but I’m watching Lucas. And he’s watching me. It’s our own private conversation in the middle of the ceremony.

  The arch of my brow asks him if he wants to get out of here.

  His smirk tells me we have to stay a while.

  We’re kind of important.

  No, not the bride and groom.

  We’re here for my mom and Dr. McCormick. The two lovebirds are getting hitched. I’m the maid of honor, Lucas is the best man.

  For now, I’m happy to be standing off to the side, out of the spotlight. When Lucas and I get married, I want it to be small and intimate, maybe just the two of us.

  Our entire lives have been a spectacle. We’ve made it so. Even now, a year after we took over McCormick Family Practice and ran MediQuik out of town, we can’t go a day without someone referencing our old war. It seems that half the people in town “knew it all along” while the other half still can’t believe we love each other. They’re placing bets for when it’ll all blow up in our faces. Sure, there are still days I want to kill Lucas (the man has a way of getting under my skin), but that passion I feel when we fight is the same passion I feel when Lucas brushes up behind me while I’m cooking dinner, when he wraps his arms around me and makes me forget food even exists.

  He is a provocative force and I still haven’t come to terms with my love for him. The magnitude of my feelings for my old rival scares me at times. I’ll lie in bed, pretending to read and watch him sleep, wondering how many years we’ll get like this. I wasted 28 years hating him; it only seems fair that we should get two or three times as long to make it up to ourselves.

  He inclines his head, probably wondering what I’m thinking.

  It shouldn’t be hard to decipher.

  With him in that tuxedo, my thoughts have been near the gutter all day.

  He smiles and the preacher announces that Dr. McCormick may now kiss the bride. I turn my attention back to the ceremony just in time to see him plop a big ol’ smooch on my mom. She swoons, no surprise there—she’s nuts, absolutely insane in love with Donny. That’s Dr. McCormick’s real name, but I refuse to use it. He will always be Dr. McCormick to me—or Dr. Dad, as I’ve jokingly started calling him.

  The crowd cheers. Lucas claps, and then I hold out my mom’s bouquet for her so they can descend back down the aisle as a married couple for the first time.

  “I love you,” she mouths to me just before Dr. McCormick whisks her away.

  I couldn’t be happier for her. They’re a perfect match, and I have a refrigerator covered in postcards from all their travels to prove it.

  Lucas walks to the center of the altar and holds out his elbow for me. I accept it and together, we follow the bride and groom down the aisle.

  “How many words of that did you catch?” he whispers.

  “Three. Four max.”

  “Yeah same.”

  “When we get married let’s do it on a beach or something so our guests have something pretty to look at while they’re ignoring the vows.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees. “Or we could just do it in a movie theater?”

  “Smart. We’ll serve popcorn as hors d’oeuvres and play a Bourne movie in the background.”

  “I like the way you think, Bell.”

  We reach the back of the church and he kisses my cheek.

  “Just so we’re clear,” I say, “that wasn’t a proposal, right?”

  He smirks. “No. That’s coming later. During the champagne toast.”

  My eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare. Not
in front of all these people.”

  He nods. “You’re right. Better if I just do it right here. Right now.”

  He turns to face me.

  I’m shaking. He can’t be serious. People are exiting the church. Watching us with curiosity. We are practically under a microscope.

  But then Lucas cracks a smile.

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  “Funny.”

  He laughs because he still likes to torture me from time to time. Old habit.

  I turn on my heel and head straight for the refreshment table in the corner. He joins me.

  “I already have the ring.”

  I smile. “I know. I found it in your sock drawer when I first moved in and was looking for space for my clothes.” I hand him a glass of champagne so we can make way for other guests. “That was a year ago.”

  He puts his free hand in his pocket. I can’t help but wonder if he has the ring on him now.

  “Yeah, I’ve had it for a while.”

  “How long is ‘a while’?”

  “I asked my mom for it the same day I found out you were moving back to Hamilton.”

  He follows up his confession with a long sip of champagne.

  “Presumptuous,” I say, though my megawatt smile is not so easy to conceal.

  “Maybe. I prefer to think of it as confident.”

  We’ve found ourselves in a small alcove away from the crowds. For the next few minutes it’s just he and I. Then, we’ll have to continue on to the reception and deliver our toasts. Abuse the bar. Dance the night away.

  “You can ask me. I’ll say yes.”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time. I want it to be perfect.”

  “How about tonight when we go home? We’ll draw a bath, get out of these stuffy clothes, and you can ask me.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be a surprise? I don’t think you’re allowed to dictate the terms of your proposal.”

  I smile and lean in. He’s wearing his signature scent that I love. “While that might work for some people, I think I’ve suffered through enough surprises for a lifetime, especially from you.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes. How’s this one? It turns out my arch nemesis—the man I’ve despised and competed against since birth—is in fact the love of my life.”