#Chapter 311 – 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…

groan, rolling my eyes at myself, sick, again, of being

and I’m so happy she has what she wants in her life. But sometimes she’s just so….perfect. That it makes me realize how

kind of distraction from these disquieting- thoughts. But when I pick it up the first thing I see

did the

Cora? You

2

I

haven’t heard from you.

and click through

not let it bother me that there’s nothing at all from Roger. Not a peep. As I take a deep breath and check my

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

your apartment door…

that. Hank. He’s being so sweet and I’m…well, I’m not

have pa*sed between us last night, it doesn’t

jump out of my bed and dash for the front door of

I 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

say, bright, cheerful – maybe too bright, too cheerful. “I’m so sorry,” I continue, smiling at him, “I just woke up – we were up

his rare, warm smile. “I get it

come in?” I ask, leaning against my door frame and gesturing

lips turning up a bit at the corner. “That sounds great,

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

closely as he tells me his story, my eyes flicking over his handsome, serious face – his thick brown

my stomach as I watch him, something that makes me…well, makes- me want to jump

making me blink and focus on him.

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

me a little wink and reaching out to grab my hand, squeezing it a bit before sitting back. “I was just

more involved in the clinic,” I respond instantly, looking down at my chicken with broccoli and picking up a morsel. “But she doesn’t

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