#Chapter 312 – Cora at Home

Cora

When I wake up it’s almost eight at night and I groan, realizing that my sleep schedule is

completely wrecked. I’m reminded, suddenly, of my years as a medical resident when this sort of thing was normal – sleeping all day, taking night shifts, living moment to moment rather than a steady, scheduled life.

And quite frankly, right now? That sounds really wonderful, compared against a whole night of empty hours in which I have nothing to do but… think.

Think about what I’m doing in my life, think about my career which has gone in a really weird direction, think about my relationship…s.

About a certain kiss in the woods.

About a sweet doctor who, apparently, wants to build a life with me.

I sigh and sit up, looking around at my sterile little apartment. I never really decorated, I realize as

I look around at the grey and beige furniture, the simple linens, the charmless curtains. Everything is functional and high quality but none of it is… me?

Or is it?

I frown at my space, thinking of Ella’s sweet home that – even though Sinclair picked out most of the furniture before she moved in – still sings Ella Ella Ella in every corner. It’s warm and sweet

and comfortable. What does my space say about me?

I mean, I’m an orphan – I never had any possessions or any control over the environments in

which I lived, so where would I have learned to decorate? I never had a mother to show me how

So where did Ella…

eyes at myself, sick, again, of being

life. But sometimes she’s just so….perfect. That it makes me realize how unhappy I am, when I stand next to her.

my phone, seeking some kind of distraction from these disquieting- thoughts. But when I pick it up the first thing I see is one of those relationships I’m trying to avoid

Hey, Cora – how did the baptism go?

You

2

a text when you get up – I know you were up all night

from

the messages away and click through the rest of my phone,

Not a peep. As I take a deep breath

you home? I’m… I mean, this is a little pathetic, but I’m outside. Can you let me in? I

your apartment door…

bit when I see that. Hank. He’s being so sweet

space for Roger, one he doesn’t even want – despite what might have passed between us last night, it doesn’t

my bed and dash for

get to it, I yank it open,

his eyes going wide, accidentally dropping the large bag of Chinese on the little mail table I keep outside my

cheerful. “I’m so sorry,” I continue, smiling at him, “I just woke up – we were up all night. It’s – I’m very sorry. I

okay,” Hank says, giving me his rare, warm smile. “I get it

leaning against my door frame

turning up a bit at the corner. “That sounds

we sit on the house, the Chinese spread out around us on the coffee table, eating right out of the containers with the supplied chopsticks, Hank tells me all about his day. He held down

tells me his story, my eyes flicking over his handsome, serious face – his thick brown hair – his strong, capable

in my stomach as I watch him, something that makes me…well, makes-

blink and focus on him. “Did you hear me?”

Then, I grimace a little. I’m sorry, Hank,” I say, giving him an apologetic look. “I got….lost in my thoughts a little bit. Forgive

responds, giving me a little wink and reaching out to grab my hand, squeezing it a bit before sitting back. “I was just curious if you think Ella

respond instantly, looking down at my chicken with broccoli and picking up a morsel. “But she doesn’t have any medical experience. Would she really be helpful there?

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