“Is Dr. Langston out?” I ask the doorman, thinking there must be a reason he’s pointing out that I’m home early.
“I’m not sure, miss,” he says, clearing his throat. “Excuse me.”
My boyfriend, Dr. Pierce Langston—the III if we’re getting snooty and technical—is medicine royalty. He’s the oldest son of celebrity heart surgeon Ramses Langston. Pierce asked me to move in with him last year after my mother died. I’d made the painful decision to leave medical school and was looking for a place to live.
Out of nowhere, he proposed to me last night, but I said no. Not because I don’t lovehim. I do. I think. I should. He’s perfect for me. But after months of soul-searching, I decided I don’t want to just be an EMT, a certification I got in high school. Iwantto be a doctor.
Only, Pierce wasn’t too happy to hear that I wanted to go back to medical school. He grumbled about how the classes, clinical hours, and rotations would take my time away fromhim.
The doorman’s unexpected comment stays with me as the elevator races up to the tenth floor. My emotions are raw. I just want to talk to Pierce and make sure we’re okay.
Stepping inside the sprawling luxury duplex in Chelsea, I’m surprised by the dead silence. This place is a flurry of activity when Pierce is home, sports on the big screen television, classical music playing from the kitchen’s Bluetooth speaker, and he is almost always on the phone consulting with someone about a patient.
Or making fantasy football trades.
Perhaps the doorman got it wrong. Maybe he saw Pierce earlier, but then he left again? He’s always in and out with emergencies.
My head’s been all over the place since I took on twelve-hour shifts. I worked at the Bronx ambulance station part-time during my first two years at Hamilton Medical College.
Then Mom died the summer after my second year. I was distraught and crying all the time. I couldn’t imagine how I’d handle the pressure of a third year, so I painfully didn’t go back.
Still needing a purpose, I asked the station manager to put me on full-time EMT shifts. I needed to help people.
After a year, though, it’s not enough. I’m better, and I can handle more.
I shrug off my coat and drop it on a chair in the living room, then climb the stairs to the bedrooms. This place isall polished marble floors, ridiculously expensive imported furniture, and curated art I never liked. It doesn’t feel like mine. Nothing here ever did.
It’s also insanely big for two people. But I suspect Pierce plans to fill it up with a horde of little Langstons. Last night’s proposal meansI’msupposed to pop out all those kids. I want to have kidssomeday. And with Pierce, I guess. I love him. I think.
I’m just not ready. For marriage or motherhood right now.
I loved Pierce at first sight. Who wouldn’t? He’s six feet tall with mink brown hair and gray eyes. He’s got tawny skin, sculpted cheekbones, and a perfect body.
Me… I’m not so perfect. But rarely does a med student win beauty contests.
Last night, it seemed Pierce agreed. In a tailored suit and trust-fund confidence, he looked at me like I belonged in the psych ward for turning him down.
I just hope we can work something out and get back to…
I stop at the sound of a moan coming from the bedroom. I take a breath and listen again.
Yeah, that was a fucking moan.
Pierce must be jerking off. I denied him sex last night. Not after the way he talked to me. But I chalked up his lashing out to him being hurt.
“Pierce…” a female audibly moans next.
Goddamn it!
I stand there dumbfounded. I’m a statistic. I’m about to walk in on my cheating boyfriend.
Then a wave breaks in my chest. The tension I’ve felt these past few months while plotting to go back to medical school, knowing Pierce wouldn’t be happy about it, vanishes.
I’m free. I didn’t think I wanted that freedom untilthis second. It’s so freaking crystal clear. But I’ve been known to radically change my mind on a dime.
Riled up, I open the bedroom door.
Pierce Langston III is naked and on his knees, facing away from the headboard. He’s railing some blonde, whose black dress is pushed up over her hips. She’s also wearing red hooker pumps.
