Mmm. Egg. Salad.

I bite into the egg-static amazingness sandwiched between two slices of homemade bread. Gooey mayonnaise lingers around the edges of my mouth as I fall into the orgasmic realm of food euphoria. This is my happy place—a soul uplifting meditation. My surroundings fall away as I experience whole new worlds of taste bud adventures and carbohydrate dreams—riding into a state of food bliss on a magic, flying table cloth. As I drift into my snack crack drugged-out state, I absent mindedly welcome in a knock at the door seconds before taking an unhumanly enormous bite.

As my mouth is officially stuffed beyond pie hole capacity, my eyes settle upon McSexy's image standing in the doorway. I freeze. Horrified. I must look like a petrified chipmunk with a mouth full of peanuts caught in a cat's line of sight. I'm not quite sure what to do. If I don't start chewing the massive load of sandwich sitting on my tongue, I'll be the freaky head-bobbing mute sitting there with a massive load of sandwich sitting on her tongue. If I do start chewing, I'm going to look like a cow sloshing cud around in her mouth for at least a minute—which will feel like hours. There I'll be—jaw thrashing away in overdrive. Nasty squishy-squashy noises. Labored breathing through the nose. Just take me to the goddamn slaughter house right now!

"So how are the hives?" McSexy asks. "Better?"

Why do they always ask questions when I have food—or dentist fingers and floss in my mouth?

I hold up a finger indicating I need a minute, then point to my mouth just in case he's unable to solve the mystery of my sudden silence. To be even clearer, I point to my half-eaten sandwich and give it a thumbs-up.

Nurse McSexy motions towards his lips with an index finger. I nod, patting my chest in an attempt to make the food go down faster, then hold up my finger again indicating I need another moment or two.

"You have something on your lips," McSexy clarifies when his finger gesture sails over my head.

I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth to discover there's a milky-white goop enhancing my already awkward appearance. Jesus H Christ, I scream internally. Sitting half naked in granny panties with a face covered in what looks like jizz—in front of the hottest guy I've ever had an actual conversation with? Seriously? Just. Slaughter. Me. NOW!

I want to explain—I want to apologize—but I can't. The egg salad sandwich is still blocking the path between my voice box and the ears of the handsome listener.

McSexy holds up his palm. "Take your time. I'm in no hurry." He pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls his finger across the screen. It appears he's reading through messages of some sort.

Silence.

It's so silent.

It's so fucking silent.

Silent—except for the sloshing of egg salad sludge in my mouth. Disgusting. I mean, why stop here with my grossness? I might as well just squeeze out a belch and rip a fart while I'm at it so I can become that person nurses talk about at social gatherings when reminiscing about the nastiest patients they've ever had to assist.

Holy crap! Why is it taking so long to swallow this sandwich?

Somewhere in the midst of my self-absorbed freak-out session, I happen to notice McSexy is—in fact—not even remotely paying attention to my gluttonous tendencies. Instead, his eyes remain locked on his phone. Jaw grinding. Fist subtly clenching. I'm not sure what he's reading, but it doesn't seem to be an exclusive email offering a discount on vitamins for an enhanced animal libido.

Swallowing the last bits of my enormous egg salad bite, I place the remainder of my sandwich on the tray-on-wheels and clear my throat. "Sorry. I had just taken a bite when you walked in and—."

"What was that?" McSexy interrupts, appearing to half listen—eyes still glued to his phone.

"I said, she doesn't mean what she says." The words jump out of my mouth in an attempt to be funny, but as soon as I hear them, I realize I miscalculated the effectiveness of my sarcastic humor by a couple thousand miles.

McSexy's focus redirects from the phone to my face, his head tilted to the side. "Who?"

I wave a finger towards his electronic device, trying to salvage my disastrous attempt at comedy. "The message you're reading on your phone—it's probably from a woman. It has to be a woman because women are so good at making men crazy and angry and—." With a face now beet red, I shrug my shoulders. "You know? Crazy women send messages that make men's faces do what yours was doing. Never mind—."

"Do you have ex-ray vision?" McSexy grins, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "How did you know I was reading a message from Satan?"

"I knew it!" With a smile I reiterate, "Like I said, she doesn't mean what she says."

"You're probably right." With two hands on the table-bed, McSexy rests his weight on his arms. "So how's the hives?"

"I thought I had to wait an hour?"

"It's been an hour," McSexy counters.

"No. I just took the pills about 15 minutes ago," I correct.

"Seriously?" The handsome nurse picks up the clipboard with my information on it and flips through the papers. "It took them that long to get the meds up here?"

"From Costa Rica—on the backs of sloths," I reply, stealing Bubbles' analogy like an unapologetic forger.

"Sounds like you've been talking to my favorite nurse's assistant."

"I have," I admit. "She's a hoot! We had an excellent conversation about romance novels."

"Let me guess—The Home Series?"

"How did you know?"

"She's a huge fan of Ami Srettun," he replies.

"That's her name! I couldn't think of it earlier."

"Did she tell you why she's such a big fan of Ami?"

Pushing out my bottom lip and bringing my shoulders up to my ears, I shake my head from side to side like a toddler adamant about not eating the cookies—despite the fact there's a face covered in chocolate for evidence. "Nope."

"Ami is married to the surgeon who came in to see you earlier," McSexy explains.

"Really?" My reply is so dopey in tone, you'd think I was auditioning to be one of the seven dwarfs—an actress who aspires to win a Razzie Award.

"Ami stops by the Urgent Care from time to time to see the doc and her mom. Gives the ladies at the nurses' station quite a thrill when she does."

Actually, I think to myself, they're probably just nervous she'll accidentally walk into a supply closet.

"No wonder why she's a fan. Not everyone gets to know celebrities on a personal level."

"Something like that."

Under his breath, McSexy adds, "People like to know each other on a personal level around here."

Oh SNAP!

"Here's some trivial for you. Did you know Ami isn't Ms. Srettun's real name?" McSexy asks.

"It's not?"

"No. Ami Srettun is a pen name. Her real name is Imma Nutters."

"Whatcha say?"

*****McSEXY BREAK*****

Yes, the egg salad sandwich was amazing. And yes, Nurse McSexy couldn't believe nearly an hour went by before I got my Claritin.

MUSIC: Jason Derulo. Whatcha Say? What a coincidence! We know something about Imma Nutters and her thoughts on soul mates and life partners. I wonder how this all fits? I also wonder if Imma thinks SilverFox only meant well (like in the Derulo song)?

Your vote is truly McAppreciated. Muah!

MarilynHepburn.com

(This is a second edit chapter)