Page 105 of Yours to Keep

“No. Not anymore.” She breathed out a soft laugh before her smile turned mischievous. “Although you might be getting in trouble with HR.”

“I checked on that,” I said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “We just have to fill out some disclosure forms. Conflict-of-interest paperwork. It’s not actually anything dramatic.”

She glanced toward the HR door, then back at me, one eyebrow arching playfully. “Do we have to do that right this moment?”

“Probably not.”

“Good,” she said, sliding her hand into mine. “Because I can think of something better we could do instead.”

My pulse kicked up. “Oh yeah?”

Her answering smile was wicked and completely irresistible. “Come with me and find out.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. We ignored the increasingly obvious audience as she tugged me down the hallway and past a few staff members. I caught Liana leaning against a doorway further down with her arms crossed, grinning like she’d just balanced the world’s most complicated ledger.

Bree squeezed my hand, laughter bubbling out of her. We pushed through the exit doors and walked into the bright afternoon sunlight. The crisp air outside hit my lungs, sharp and clean, like everything had finally reset.

“Your place or mine?” I asked as we reached the parking lot.

She gave me a look that suggested I should already know the answer. “Your place. You have better snacks.”

I laughed and immediately pulled her toward where my car was parked. For the first time since she’d walked out of my office, the future didn’t feel like something I had to control down to the last decimal point. It felt wide open and she was running straight into it with me.

CHAPTER 39

BREE

My hands trembled where I stood in front of my closet. Honestly, I’d faced down cardiac arrests with more confidence than I currently felt.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, staring at the row of dresses like they might collectively offer advice. “It’s dinner. You have dinner every day. Food goes in your mouth. You swallow. You do not die.”

My reflection in the mirror inside my closet door did not look convinced. I tugged one dress off the hanger, held it up, then tossed it onto the bed with the other rejected options.

Too formal. Too casual. Too try-hard. Not trying hard enough.

I scrubbed my face with both hands and groaned. I can intubate a coding patient, but apparently, I can’t survive choosing an outfit for a dinner date with my boyfriend.

Even just that word still felt new and fragile, but also electric. Every time I either said or thought it, a thrill passed straight through me.

Only a few days ago, it had felt impossible that we would ever get to this point, but somehow, we’d made it.

Actually, not somehow. We’d made it because Sullivan had proven to me, once for all, who he really was. And now, my brand-new, official boyfriend was finally taking me out to dinner in the city where we both lived. At this rate, I’d be going naked, though.

“Ridiculous,” I repeated quietly. “Absolutely fucking absurd. Just choose, Bree. Come on. It’s not that hard.”

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting my thoughts. I swiped it up, my heart fluttering a little at the message on my screen. It was my group chat with the girls, another text immediately followed the first.

Ellora: If he gives you a diamond tonight, I want pics.

Mercedes: Also has he bought furniture yet or is he still living like a rich cave troll?

Me: You’re both terrible and also not helping.

Ellora: We help through emotional support and active curiosity.

Mercedes: And wine. Mostly wine.

I rolled my eyes, but warmth spread through my chest. A few weeks ago, they’d been helping me trash talk the man. Now they were so fully invested in my romantic future with him that they were treating it like it was a TV show.