He came into the office that morning to notice that she was nowhere to be seen. This was odd, because Mindy was always out in the office, talking to Betsy or trying to mediate an argument between Morgan and Beverly. But, this morning, she wasn't.

His eyes flicked to Betsy. She looked at him, sighed, and looked at Mindy's door, which was closed. Danny gave a quick, understanding nod and crossed the office. He rapped once on the door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it.

He found Mindy at her desk, typing on her computer. This isn't good. When things got bad, she was on the floor. When things got really bad, she tried to pretend that it wasn't that bad.

He cleared his throat and she looked up. Her big, brown eyes were behind those glasses that she wore when she was concentrating. "Hi, Danny," she said, focusing back on the computer screen.

"You okay?"

"Totally fine, man."

"You aren't having…lady issues?"

"What?" she screeched. "No! God, Danny. And aren't you a doctor? Call it what it is for God's sake. A period."

"It's just…you're not acting like yourself," he continued cautiously, sliding into the chair across from her.

She sighed, typed a few last words, and turned to him. "Danny," she said. "This is the first time you've seen me this morning. How in the world do you know if I'm being myself or not?"

"I just know," Danny said, suddenly defensive.

She peered at him behind her glasses. He really wished she didn't because it reminded him of Ms. Perlotti, his seventh grade English teacher, the one he had an oddly fascinating infatuation with. To add to it, Mindy did that, he thought of the shy, quiet librarian, but once those glasses came off, she was a bomb.

"That's the best you can come up with, Castellano? 'I just know'. Puh-lease.'' She choked out a laugh and it was obviously forced. Mindy waved it off. "Danny, you worry too much. I'm fine—"

Danny caught her hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers. Suddenly, he's back on that plane coming home from Santa Fe. However, there wasn't turbulence or an armrest there to have an excuse. Mindy looked at their hands intertwined. Danny breathed and didn't let go. "Min," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered. Danny could feel his blood pump. "Nothing," she repeated, louder and more forcefully.

Danny let go.

"Right. Well, I'll see you later, Dr. Lahiri."

With that, he stood up and walked out of her office. He closed the door behind him and walked back to his office, trying to shake the feeling of her skin off his hands.

The rest of the day went fine. Sort of. Mindy came out of her office and started to be normal, if that was possible for her. Danny kept stealing glances at her when he could. There was something off. Her smile wasn't as annoyingly bright and her eyes weren't as big. She had lunch alone in her office with the door closed. She didn't interject when Danny purposely started a debate over if Keanu Reeves was truly talented or not. He had even found her ignoring You've Got Mail on the TV in the break room.

At six, everyone was heading home. Mindy drew the short straw to finish up the patient files and paperwork, so she was staying late. She didn't even complain or beg Danny or Jeremy to switch places with her, which made it worse.

"See ya, Bets," Danny said as he left the building, waving to his receptionist. He pulled his jacket closer to him. He wanted to focus on the fact that there was going to be a new episode of Ice Truckers on his DVR and cold beers in his fridge, but all he could think about was her.

God, something was wrong. She was quiet and she didn't mention Brad Pitt's beard at all. What was wrong? Why wouldn't she tell him? They were friends, right? Yeah, they were friends because they had a twenty-minute conversation about that very topic in an elevator once. And didn't friends tell each other things? So, what wasn't she telling him?

He bet Gwen knew. Mindy always told Gwen everything. All Gwen had to do was pick up the phone and Mindy would just spill her guts. Danny could be like that. Danny could be there for her, if she just trusted him enough, and—

Wait. He was getting jealous of girl talk.

Danny scrubbed his face with his hand. He knew that if he didn't do something, it would keep him up all night.

He checked his watch. He still had time.

Danny unlocked the practice door and slipped in. It was completely dark, except for the light from Mindy's office. Danny took notice that it was silent. Usually, when Mindy had the opportunity of having the office all to herself, she took the liberty of blaring the Spice Girls to a volume that should be illegal.

This is a good idea, right? Girls liked it when the man took charge. Human nature.

But, he was Danny and she was Mindy. She would probably tell him that he was crazy and yell at him, ending with the both of them in a screaming match because Danny couldn't help but yell at her when she was yelling at him.

And then she would go home crying and he would feel like a dick.

Still have a chance to back out, Castellano, his brain said. Danny looked at the light illuminating from her office. Maybe she was fine. Maybe it was just him being paranoid. Maybe all she needed was time to herself. Maybe he should just leave it be for now. She'll be fine once she gets some rest, right?

Somehow, Danny couldn't even convince himself that was true.

He flipped the lights on and drew a breath out. Right. C'mon, Castellano. You've seen far worse. Why are you stopping now? He could do this. He could do this.

He took confident strides to her door. Just as he was about to knock on the door with his sweaty hands, he stopped.

He couldn't do this.

He turned and made his way towards the exit. God, he was such a fucking coward. He should go right in there and tell Mindy that he knew something was wrong and he wasn't going to leave until she told him.

He gathered up all his courage, turned around, and he walked right in her office.

Mindy looked up, startled. "Danny, what are you—are those cupcakes?" she asked, motioning to the package he had at his side. Danny didn't reply, but he went over to her desk and started to close the files that were spread across her desk. "What—what are you doing?"

"Get on the floor," he said.

"What?"

"Get on the floor," he repeated.

"What the hell, Danny? No, dude. You can't just barge in here—for the second time, today—and order me to get on the ground."

"Get your ass on the ground. Or no cupcakes." This is going well.

Mindy looked at him. He could see that she was angry. She was pissed. And he could see that she really wanted to tell him off. He also knew that she wanted a cupcake.

Mindy was still glaring at him as she rose from her chair and came out from behind her desk. She stood in the middle of the room, tucked in the back of her electric blue dress, and slowly made her way down to lie on the floor. Danny couldn't help but smirk.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm just thinking of how many guys have seen you in that position."

"Shut up and hand me a cupcake, damn it."

He pulled out her favorite—red velvet and handed it to her. As she pulled off the cupcake liner, he set down the box, grabbed a vanilla, and lied down next to her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, my God, Danny," she said, mouth full of cupcake. "For the last time, I'm fine."

"I know that lie when I hear it, Min." He turned his head, the soft carpet feeling on his cheek. She turned to face him as well and bit her lip. He was getting somewhere. "Tell me."

She stared at her cupcake for a long time, thinking. Danny was silent. The only thing that he could hear was the receptiveness of their breathing. He waited.

"My mother called."

"Oh? I thought you liked it when your mom called."

"I do, I do," Mindy said. "Except, my Naani was there, visiting from India. So, she got on the phone. And she started to ask me why I was thirty-one, almost thirty-two, and I still haven't found a 'nice Indian boy' to marry and have thousands of babies with."

"And…?"

"You don't get it, Danny. If you're an Indian woman and you're not married by twenty-five, you're a disgrace."

"I doubt that. Mindy, you're a successful doctor in New York. You're a partner at your own practice, for Christ's sake."

"Naani doesn't see it that way. She only sees that she doesn't have any great-grandchildren yet," Mindy sighed. "It was just kind of depressing." She started to play with the fringe on the rug.

"I mean, I want that. I want it so badly, Danny. I just haven't met the right guy yet."

"You will."

"I thought I did, with Casey. But look how that turned out. Fucked that one up," she paused. "Maybe I'm not meant to find someone."

"Mindy."

"No, I'm serious, Danny. What if I'm just supposed to be an OB/GYN with seven cats? Like, what if I'm supposed to be alone?"

"You won't be."

"How do you know?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Mindy didn't say anything and Danny turned his head to stare intently at the ceiling. He could feel her eyes on him, scrutinizing and calculating. He ate the last of his cupcake and lifted himself off the floor. He turned to Mindy and held out his hand. "C'mon."

She took his hand and he lifted her off the ground. He accidently pulled too hard and Mindy didn't have her balance, and he instinctively steadied her with his hand around her waist. "You good?" he asked as his eyes bored into hers.

"Yeah," she breathed.

Danny let go and they broke apart. He cleared his throat and looked around the room. "Let's get you home."

"What about the paperwork and files?"

Danny shrugged. "We'll do them later. Grab your coat." He turned off the lamp on her desk and took the box of cupcakes. Mindy came back into the room, coat in hand. "Let's go."

They closed up shop and headed downstairs. Once they were outside, they realized that it had rained. Mindy shivered. Danny handed her the cupcakes and put his arms around her.

"What are you doing?"

"You're cold. I'm being a gentleman."

"A gentleman would have offered their jacket."

"You already have a jacket."

"It's principle," she sniffed.

"Whatever," he said and his arms went back to his sides. "Gimme back the cupcakes."

She looked at him. "You must be high if I'm letting you have these back."

"I paid for them."

"To cheer me up. So, technically, these are a gift."

"It's not a gift. Give it back, Mindy."

"Too late, Castellano. Be expecting a very nice thank you note in the mail any day now."