Waving to her cousin and Mel and Stef as she walked to the table, she made a promise to enjoy herself. When she reached them, she grinned, surprised to find Emily there too.
“I thought you were moving in next weekend,” she said, taking a seat between the woman and Lyndsey.
“I am,” Emily said. “Just came in for the closing. They moved it up a week.”
“That’s fantastic!” She immediately hugged her friend. “Congratulations, you new homeowner, you.”
Emily laughed. “Thanks. I’m so thrilled.”
“Yeah, this is now a celebratory dinner for Emily,” Mel said, pouring a pitcher of the owner’s famous sangria into five glasses that Stef passed around to everyone.
“To Emily and her new ranch,” Lyndsey said, lifting her glass and the others followed suit. “May the renovations be easy, and animals be many.”
She sipped her drink, grateful for the cold, tangy, sweet treat.
“Oh, wow, Isla, what happened to your arm?” Lyndsey asked, catching her wrist, causing a swish of sangria to slip over the side of her glass and hit the table.
Shrugging, she tugged free and reached for a napkin to wipe up the spill. “Patient grabbed me. It’s part of the job. No biggie.”
“Yeah, happens at the tattoo parlor all the time,” Mel said. “Not to me, but sometimes to the relative or significant other of the person I’m inking.”
Stef frowned. “Really?”
Mel nodded. “Yeah. Depending on the location of where I’m tattooing, those needles can be terribly painful. So oftentimes my client will squeeze the hand or arm of whoever is with them.”
“Yes, that’s what this was from,” she said. “A patient was going through a painful procedure.”
And died.
Her cousin frowned. “I didn’t know. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Forget about it,” she insisted, setting her hand on her leg so her arm wasn’t as visible. She hadn’t thought to weara long-sleeved shirt to cover it. Stupid. “Let’s get back to the celebration. It’s Emily’s night.”
For the next hour and a half, Isla managed to push back thoughts of her day and made an effort to enjoy the delicious food and time with good friends.
And she counted down the minutes until it would be acceptable to leave. Isla even thought of using Loki as an excuse, only everyone there already knew about his progress and the factsheno longer required training.
Her training sessions.
Sinjin immediately sprang through her mind. God, she wished he was there. If ever she was in need of relief, it was tonight.
Another twenty-seven minutes and she was relieved when Stef asked for the check, and everyone divvied up Emily’s portion and added it to their own. Ten minutes after that, she walked with Mel across the street, and they parted on the corner. The woman lived on the third floor of the ESI building, in a crazy cool apartment decked out by her tech genius husband, Carter.
Isla had been there for tacos and game night two Tuesdays ago. The place had every gadget known to man—and some that weren’t—she suspected.
As she walked past the Potters, her legs began to feel like lead. It was weird. Her chest was tight, too. But she trudged on, feeling as if she was walking through Jell-o.
Was she coming down with something?
No. Her mind instantly vetoed that.
It was because she’d lost her first patient.
Her throat heated and her eyes stung.
Mr. Briganti hadn’t exactly been her patient, but she had helped to work on him. That was enough to make Isla feel responsible. She absently rubbed her arm. Maybe gripping her had given him some comfort.
Sniffing, she cleared her throat and made her way to her cottage. Relief washed through her, sending some of her unshed tears down her face at the sight of a note from Sinjin stuck to her door.
