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Chapter Seven
Taylor Swift blares through my headphones, and I sing along, tying my scrub bottoms and then tucking in my long-sleeve shirt and scrub top in because I’m that girl who likes to be tucked in. It’s not even six in the morning, and rounds don’t start until seven thirty. It’s my absolute favorite time of the day to be here.
It’s the quietest time in the hospital. At least for trauma surgeons.
It’s also the best time of day to catch up on post-ops and labs and other things that have to get done, but you lose track of when the surgeries start rolling in.
My head bops from side to side, my hips swiveling along to the beat, and I dance and sing my way out of the women’s locker room, only to bump into the last person I was expecting—or hoping—to see.
“You are shitting on my happy time,” I tell Zane, the asshat from ortho I made a grave mistake with. Speaking of being that girl, I was her for about a year. The one who screws around with the guy with the bad reputation thinking they’ll never be the one to get screwed over by him. Owen, Keegan, and Kenna all tried to warn me.
Hell, Owen and Kenna don’t even work at this hospital but had heard stories about Zane in theirs. Talk about a freaking, blazing red flag. If a reputation is bad enough to span multiple hospitals, you should be smart enough to listen.
But did I listen?
Nope. Not this girl.
I screwed him—and I use that term deliberately—in a few bar bathrooms around the city after a few too many shots, but then, like a fool, I started listening to his lies as he told me how much he liked me and wanted an exclusive relationship—the first time in his life he ever wanted that with anyone. Swoon, right?
Naturally, I jumped in with both feet and two blind eyes because he was cute and great in bed and sweet in our private, vulnerable, post-sex moments.
I thought I had broken through to the other side of his manwhore ways, and I was the girl who changed him. We were that annoyingly cute couple who held hands in the hospital halls and threw each other sugary-sweet googly-eyed smiles that made everyone around us want to throw up. He even went out of his way to get along with my people.
After six months of being together, I moved into his place. And for another six months after that, Zane held me captive. He plied me with good sex and drugged me with swoony words of love. I thought he was it for me. We were even talking about trying for a baby—something we were both so excited for—and he was with me through my endometriosis surgery.
One evening I found an engagement ring tucked in the back corner of his desk drawer, and when he told me he made plans for us to go away for my birthday, I knew he was going to propose. Then, the night before we were set to go away, I discovered he was messing around with a nurse at Brigham and Women’s and a doctor at Tufts. I had no clue. I suspected nothing. Until I came home early that night and found him having a three-way with both of them.
In. Our. Bed.
He swore it was the first time, but the women claimed otherwise. Who do you think I was smart enough to believe?
I moved out that night and into Keegan and Kenna’s home office, and I never looked back.
I learned. I learned that appearances can be deceiving. I learned if something is too good to be true, it usually is. I learned that I needed to rediscover faith in my gut and to always follow it. And I decided my primary guiding force would be work, myself, my people, and nothing else.
So yeah…
“Move,” I bark, my voice edged with agitation when he doesn’t get the message. My elbow jabs and hits his flank. Thankfully, it provides enough breathing room for me to pass without having to touch him or get too close. Unfortunately, it wasn’t hard enough to crack a rib or two.
He recovers quickly—far too quickly if you ask me—and then he’s by my side again, keeping pace. “You could just talk to me,” he pushes out. “You could listen to what I have to say and hear my side of this.”
I laugh. Because, truly, that’s a good one. His side? Only cheaters think they’re entitled to have a valid side.
“No thanks.” I throw him a sideways glance. “And legit, what are you doing here? You’re like five months too late and well past your expiration date. Now get off my floor.”
“You blocked me.”
I roll my eyes. “Pathetic. Totally freaking pathetic. Of course I blocked you. What sane woman wouldn’t? This is why all your fucking around will eventually lead to you being miserable and alone, nursing an incurable STI. Go spread it to someone else. I’m done with your cooties.”
He grabs my arm, spinning me in place, and then walks me back into the wall. Getting right up in my face, his dark eyes blaze into mine. I shove against him, but he uses his size and weight to hold me in place.
“You won’t talk to me. I’ve been trying to come up and see you, but you have the nurses locking me out of this side of the surgical floor and your ORs. Keegan kicked me in the nuts when I showed up at her apartment looking for you, and Kenna told the doorman to call the police on me if I showed up again.”
It was funny when Keegan did that. He cried like a little bitch. And you have to love it when your girls go to bat for you, even when you didn’t initially listen to them. “That’s love. That’s loyalty. Something you wouldn’t know anything about. Now move.”
I shove against him, but he pushes my hand away, pressing me deeper into the wall, his face inches from mine.
“I fucked up,” he rasps brokenly. “Please, Katy. I know I fucked up. But I miss you. So much. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, and I ruined it by being selfish and immature. All I can think about is you and the plans we were working on. I want that. I want all of that with you. So fucking badly. Please, babe. It’s not too late.” He cups the side of my head, holding me in position. “We can start over and still do this together.”
