“I hope you stub your pinky toe tonight on the way to the bathroom while you’re half asleep,” I curse, and then I hang up.
I take one deep breath, smooth down my scrubs, and push open the door. The scent of roasted beans and nutmeg fills my senses, but all I can focus on is the sound of my shoes against the floor as I walk toward the ghost of my husband’s past.
Well, future ex-husband.
I stop at the edge of his table. He doesn't look up at first, probably expecting another agency nurse he can scare off within the hour.
“So, I hear you're my new difficult patient,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
His head snaps up. The shock that registers in his hazel eyes is so raw it almost makes me flinch. He stares at me, his grip tightening on his coffee cup.
“Aspen,” he breathes, my name sounding like a blessing on his lips. Or a curse.
We shall see.
I take a beat to let him sweat, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I need to look like a woman who has her entire life together, even if my business checking account is currently screaming for a miracle. I can’t let him know that I actually need him as a client, and I definitely can't let him know that seeing him makes my heart perform a frantic, stupid gymnastic routine in my chest.
So, I pull on my “Professional Nurse” mask, square my shoulders, and pray my pheromones don't give me away.
“You look like shit, Chillmonger,” I say, pulling out the chair opposite him.
His jaw drops slightly. “Is this how you speak to all your prospective clients?”
I offer a sharp, practiced smile before sliding into the chair. “My apologies, Mr. Chidubem. Let’s try this again, shall we?”
He nods, his gaze fixed on me.
“I’m Aspen Hunter,” I say, making my voice sound smooth and clinical. “Tatum Black referred me under the impression that you were looking for a nurse who prioritizes discretion. Is that correct?”
He nods again. Is he broken? Has the ACL injury migrated to his brain?
“At Aspen and Oak,” I continue, “we prioritize patient security as much as care and safety. You can rest assured that your needs will be my...priority,” I say, stumbling slightly. My brain has apparently decided that prioritize is the only verb left in the English language.
“You settled on a name,” he says. It’s not a question. When things were unraveling between us, I was in the thick of the branding process. We’d called it quits before I ever got the chance to tell him what I’d chosen.
“Yes. Aspen and Oak,” I repeat.
“It’s perfect.”
I swoon a little at that but I don’t let it show. “Thank you. Now, since your mobility is currently limited, my services include standard vitals checks, light housekeeping, and transport if required.”
“I... I won’t need any of that,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “And why do you sound so formal? It’s like I’m talking to a fucking brochure.”
“When I told you that you looked like shit, you had a problem with it. Now that I’m being professional, you don’t like that either. Make up your mind, Luca.”
“Can’t we find a balance?” he asks. “You don't have to be so buttoned up.”
“Actually, I do.” I pause, the real reason caught in my throat. Being buttoned up is safer. It’s easier. It’s the only thing keeping me from accidentally putting his dick in my mouth during a sponge bath. “It’s just best if we maintain a professionalboundary. I apologize for how I started things off today. It won’t happen again.”
“Fine,” is all he says back.
As he broods, I can’t help but think about how spectacularly everything unraveled the moment Croix discovered our secret. I know it was jarring, but for a guy who had spent months acting more like my platonic soulmate than a boyfriend, his reaction quickly shifted from shock to a full-blown toddler’s tantrum. You would have thought we’d conducted a years-long affair behind his back, despite the fact that he and I had never even moved past second base. His behavior was childish, but Luca’s was worse. Because it never felt like he chose me. Not fully, at least.
I’m not an insecure woman, but I don’t do uncertainty. I refuse to sit in a relationship wondering where I stand or where we’re going. I stayed in the situation with Luca—hidden— longer than I should have because I actually believed what we had was real. But clearly, he didn't feel it as strongly as he had in Vegas. Because he didn’t fight for me the way you’d think someone like him would. He didn’t fight for our union as fiercely as he tried to fuck my devotion out of me.
In Vegas, he was confident, commanding, and damn-near knightly in the way he treated me. I never could have imagined he’d become a different person the second we hit the real world. He could have looked his best friend in the eye and told him that what we had was genuine. That it was more than a fling. For us, it was “forever.” Instead, he let a misplaced sense of “noble” loyalty turn me into a secret, choosing a friend’s bruised ego over his own wife, until I didn’t even recognize the woman in the mirror anymore.
He must have lost his mind, thinking I’d accept that from anyone. And clearly, for a moment, I did too. But I’m back now.Back to being the woman who was raised to bring a man to his knees. Even if it is injured.
