Page 8 of Yours to Keep

“I’ll be polite,” I lied. Maybe. I didn’t know yet. “Firm, but polite.”

Mark suddenly grinned. “Can I watch?”

“No, but if I don’t come back, tell my story.” I wished I was joking. “Blame the paper gowns.”

I marched down the hall toward the conference room he was using as a temporary office like I was headed into battle. My fists were clenched, my jaw tight, and Eye of the Tiger was blaring in my head at a volume that suggested impending violence.

But this hospital and the people in it mattered to me. They’d not only saved my father’s life, but so, so many others. Every single day. I was not about to let some billionaire dickhead swoop in and ruin everything when he’d never worked so much as one real shift in an actual medical setting.

These rich pricks always thought they knew better than everyone else, but thankfully, I refused to be intimidated. Once upon a time, I might’ve been, but my two best friends were married to men in this guy’s financial bracket and I’d learned that no matter how scary they came across, they were also just people.

Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, I turned the final corner in the hallway that led to the throne room of our new dictator, mentally rehearsing what I was going to say. Something calm but firm. Passionate but professional.

Something like, have you ever tried comforting a crying patient while they’re wearing a paper towel with armholes?

A soft hand landed on my shoulder when I neared his door. I stopped short, adrenaline still buzzing through my veins, and I turned. The woman I found myself looking at was about my age, petite, with kind eyes and an expression that suggested she’d seen this exact moment coming.

She smiled gently, like someone approaching a startled horse. “Employee or girlfriend?”

I blinked rapidly, the dum-dum-dum of Eye of the Tiger instantly vanishing from my mind. “I’m sorry, what?”

She glanced past me toward the conference room, then looked back at me. “Judging from the look on your face, I assume you’re here to see Sullivan. So, are you a pissed-off employee or a pissed-off girlfriend?”

“Employee,” I said without hesitation. “Is the prick in there?”

“Yes,” she said easily, unfazed by what I’d called him. “But as someone who’s worked with the prick for a few years, can I give you some advice?”

I exhaled. “Sure.”

“You won’t get anywhere yelling at him,” she said. “It just makes him dig in his heels like a mule.”

“More like a jackass.”

She laughed and stuck out her hand. “I’m Liana.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shook her with her. “Bree.”

“Well, Bree, before you go in there and commit a felony, can I ask you a favor?”

I frowned. “That depends. Is the favor that I turn around and go back the way I came?”

“No.” She sighed. “I’m new to the city, so let me ask you a question. Do you know a good florist? Or a decent florist? I’d even take a bad one.”

“A florist?” I stared at her, my head tilting as I wondered if I’d hallucinated the question. “For what?”

“I’m getting married in a few weeks,” she said, lifting both hands to rub her temples. “I lost my florist to the long arm of the law and everyone I’ve talked to says it’s too short notice for an order that big. I’m really starting to panic.”

I blinked a few more times. Why am I suddenly counseling a stranger about wedding flowers in a hospital hallway while actively vibrating with rage?

“Okay,” I said finally. “First of all, breathe. Count to ten.”

She huffed but did it anyway, eyes closing as she counted under her breath. When she opened them again, some of the tension had drained from her shoulders.

“I just want to get married,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t even really matter about the flowers. I love my fiancé and it’s taken so much to get here. He’s from New York, I’m from Philadelphia. Long distance was… a lot.”

That set off something in my head. Long distance. New city. Working closely with a man who inspired this much fear and irritation in others.

Red flags fluttered gently at the back of my mind, but I ignored them. I didn’t know this woman or why I was standing here. I didn’t even know how she’d managed to derail my righteous march, but I wasn’t above a little give-and-take.