Page 13 of The Golden Hour

“Just trying to finish out this fucking residency so I can finally be attending and actually get paid,” he mutters, shoving his water bottle back in his locker.

She tilts her head, leaning closer to him.

“What do you normally do to relieve stress?”

He frowns, closing his locker and taking a step back.

“When I had the time,” Mason huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I spent time with my wife.”

Going on hikes with Honey. It was their favorite date. Hitting every state park in Pennsylvania, finding new trails, new sights, new adventures.

Honey was like a damn Disney princess on those walks, humming softly as they held hands, every woodland creature peeking its head out to see where that wonderful sound was coming from.

He frowns.

Why did they stop that?

Because you found the ED.

“Hm, your wife.” Dr. Lewis smirks. “Jilly—wait, no—Jelly, right?”

“Honey,” Mason stresses. “Her name is Honey.”

“That’s right. I knew it was a spread,” Dr. Lewis snickers, waving a hand. “You don’t talk about her much anymore. Thought maybe you guys broke up.”

The idea of them breaking up hits him so viscerally in the gut, it’s a miracle he doesn’t bend over from the pain. It’s inconceivable.

They’ve been together for fifteen years.

She’s the love of his life.

“Nope,” he rasps. “Never.”

Dr. Lewis’ smirk dims slightly at that.

“Well… I, for one, love to de-stress with more physical activity…” she lets the pause stretch a second too long. “Sex.”

Mason can feel his eyes glaze over, but not because of Dr. Lewis.

Because he’s picturing his wife naked.

Honey, with her beautiful blonde hair and rich, warm eyes. The freckles on her nose, the bright sunshine smile. Her beautiful fucking body, with her beautiful full breasts in his mouth, his hands squeezing her supple hips, her soft thighs hugging his cheeks when he’s eating her out.

They’ve shared every single first together.

He doesn’t want anyone but her.

He has never wanted anyone but her.

He’s too lost in the memory to realize Dr. Lewis has taken his silence as something else. She steps closer, her front just brushing against him before he jumps back, his spine hitting his locker.

“Sorry,” she purrs, stepping toward him again. “Just… if you ever need to blow off some steam… the on-call room is quite⁠⁠—”

“Never going to happen, Dr. Lewis,” Mason snarls, holding up his left hand to show his gold wedding ring. “Never.”

Dr. Lewis doesn’t look put off. Instead, her eyes light up like she wants the challenge.

Needs the challenge.