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“Tonight’s not our night,” I say, bending down to kiss her cheek.
She tightens her grip on my arm and turns her head to catch my mouth before I can fully move away. Her lips on mine are shocking, more so because she had the guts to kiss me before I could kiss her.
She presses up against me and tries to deepen the kiss. I hold off in an attempt to keep myself in check, reminding myself that with her, there are no do-overs. I’ve waited too long to screw this up with impatience.
Her tongue touches mine and I hoist her up against me before I can stop myself, gripping her hips in my hands and grinding her against me.
She whimpers my name and it snaps me back to reality.
I push her away like she’s on fire and walk away before she can stop me.
“Connor!”
“Not tonight, Natalie.” My tone leaves no room for discussion. I sound downright rude as I walk out of the bathroom and slam the door behind me. I lean against it and hear her on the other side.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?! Forget what I said!” she shouts. “There is no arrangement! No sex. Ever. Forget it.”
Not likely.In my attempt to pump the brakes, I wounded Natalie’s pride. I realize she put herself out there last night. Kissing me in the bathroom took courage, but me walking away was for the best. She doesn’t see it that way right now. In the long run, she will.
For now, she’s holding a grudge.
Apparently, a good night’s sleep didn’t do much to curb her anger.
The next day when I see her in the hall of the BICU during rounds, she’s discussing cases with the group of residents and med students crowded around her, but when they scatter and I draw near, her professionalism doubles down. It’s like we’ve never seen each other outside the hospital before.
“Good morning, Dr. Easton. Do you need something?”
“I’ll apologize if you want me to.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Unless you have something directly related to patient care to discuss, I’m late for a surgery.”
She’s not late. Our surgeries start at the same time.
“I’m seeing now that I might have made a mistake last night. You clearly don’t want to let this go.”
If looks could kill, I’d be a goner.
She steps closer and, voice dripping with venom, says, “The arrangement is off.”
Then she turns and walks away.
But there’s no way the arrangement is off. Absolutely not.
Natalie is persistent. I witness that persistence firsthand through the next few days. There’s never direct conversation between us. She makes sure we’re never alone, not even at the townhouse. If we happen to be in a hallway in the hospital at the same time, she’ll hug the wall and stay as far away from me as possible. She sends residents to give me pertinent information about cases. Once, when she’s on the elevator with Lindsey and a few med students, I run to catch it before the door closes, and when I step on, she doesn’t even bother trying to conceal the fact that she was rapidly pressing the Close Door button. No apology is uttered and I do a poor job of hiding my smile, which I’m sure only angers her more.
We have to operate on a patient together on Wednesday. Plastics is called in for assistance and maybe she thought someone else would come, but I’m the one on the schedule.
When I walk into the OR, she glances up from behind her surgical glasses and narrows her eyes but doesn’t say a word.
“How are things going in here?” I ask smoothly as an assistant ties the back of my gown.
“Good. You’ve come just in time,” Dr. Garza says, handing off her instruments and stepping away from the table. “I’m about to scrub out. You can take over from here with Dr. Martin.”
Natalie speaks up quickly as she takes a step back. “Oh, I was hoping I could scrub out as well—”
“Actually, I’d like you to stay,” I say. “This procedure would be good for you to observe for your fellowship training.”
She probably wants to argue with me, but Dr. Garza agrees that Natalie should stay, so that’s that. I know in her head Natalie is screaming obscenities, but on the outside, she doesn’t crack. She nods and reclaims her place across from me at the operating table.
“Of course. I’d love to, Dr. Easton.”
What it really sounds like is, Go fuck yourself, Dr. Easton.
Good thing she can’t see the grin I’m hiding behind my mask.
Later that day, I catch up with her in the doctors’ lounge. She’s dictating her notes in here rather than in the office she shares with the other fellows. I ask her why.
“Oh, it’s simple really,” she says, not taking her eyes off her laptop. “I was trying to avoid you.”
