Chapter 7
Anna
“Doctors who behave like gigolos,” Chloe muttered as we all climbed into the car, slamming the door a little hard.
Tatum glanced at her. “That stereotype needs to die. Doctors are human. They’re allowed to flirt, have fun, and be normal. We shouldn’t hold them to some saintly standard just because they wear scrubs.”
“True,” Chloe conceded. “Except for Dr. Collins. He’s so stiff. Cold. Nothing like his two friends.”
Tatum smirked. “Funny, coming from the girl who said she was interested in him.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Please. I only said that to brush Tim off. Why would I willingly torture myself chasing a man who looks like he’d dismiss me in a heartbeat?”
I laughed softly. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s obvious,” she said. “We’re not his type. He seems like the kind of man who prefers women in his own profession. Another doctor. Maybe a surgeon. Communication just flows better when you share the same world. If nothing else, the job gives you something in common to talk about.”
“Harsh,” I said.
“Honest,” Chloe corrected.
Tatum nodded in agreement. “Yeah… he seems extremely particular. The kind of man who doesn’t compromise.”
From the backseat, Veronica tilted her chin slightly, her voice calm, measured. “I don’t think it’s about the medical profession at all.”
Chloe turned, intrigued. “Oh? Enlighten us.”
Veronica leaned back, crossing her arms, giving that quiet-but-observant air. “He seems like a man who values intelligence. A sharp mind. That’s probably more important to him than your job title.”
Chloe laughed softly. “Really? And you can tell if someone is intelligent from one conversation?”
“Not just a conversation,” Veronica said with a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “It’s the way he might observe people. Listens. Questions. Men like that… they notice more than you think.”
I could feel Chloe giving her the side-eye, a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
“And what about you?” Chloe asked, half-teasing. “So, what’s your angle? Your job proves your intelligence?”
Veronica’s smirk widened slightly. “I’ll leave that for others to decide.”
Tatum and I exchanged a look and I sighed, raising my hands. “Alright, enough. Let’s just enjoy the ride. We had a good night, no need to start debates about IQ now.”
Nancy stayed quiet, as usual, watching the lights streak past the window, detached but fully aware of the tension.
The car fell briefly silent, city lights flickering across the glass. Even in that silence you could feel the unspoken hierarchy: Chloe’s sass, Veronica’s measured sharpness, Tatum’s easy steady nature, Nancy’s quiet observation, and me, trying not to laugh at the whole spectacle.
We finally pulled up outside our building. Nancy and I climbed out of the car.
“Thank you, ladies,” I said, turning to Chloe, Tatum, and Veronica. “I really enjoyed tonight. I’m so grateful for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Chloe said, smiling warmly.
Tatum shook her head with a small laugh. “Don’t thank us too much. You practically survived your bachelorette chaos.”
I grinned, then glanced toward my building. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”
“No, it’s fine,” Tatum said. “I see Michael’s car out front. He’s probably waiting for you.”
I nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you all later,” I said, waving as I turned toward the entrance.
Inside, I spotted my dad leaning casually against the doorway and Michael’s smile just beyond him.
“Hey, Dad,” I called, glancing over my shoulder.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad replied with a grin.
Michael stepped closer and kissed me softly, the warmth of him grounding me after the whirlwind of the night.
“Dad,” I said, turning to him. “I’ll come fetch the rest of my things tomorrow.”
“Sure, kiddo.”
The way my dad addressed me, really makes me feel like a kid. I looked over at Nancy. “I’ll sleep over the night before the wedding.”
She stepped forward, hugging me tightly, her hands moving fluidly as she signed: I’m going to miss you.
“I’m going to miss you too,” I whispered back, holding her close for a moment longer.
I turned to Dad again, giving him a quick hug before Michael and I headed for the car. He greeted me with a mischievous smile, hands warm around mine.
As we drove off, the city humming softly around us, I felt the quiet thrill of the night linger—the excitement of the upcoming wedding, the comfort of family, and the steady, reassuring presence of Michael beside me.
He turned slightly toward me, slipping his hand into mine while guiding the steering wheel effortlessly with the other.
“Did you have a nice time?” he asked.
“I did,” I said, squeezing his fingers.
He glanced at me again, casual but curious. “Anything interesting happen?”
I hesitated for a heartbeat. “There were a bunch of guys trying to hit on us.”
He shot me a sideways look. “On us… or on you?” His tone sharpened, just a little.
“Well,” I admitted, “there was one guy. But I’m pretty sure he was teasing. He made a comment about us hooking up before I’m ‘locked in.’”
Michael’s jaw tightened, subtle but unmistakable. “And?”
“I told him it was disrespectful,” I said quickly.
He exhaled through his nose. “Let me guess. Some drunk guy in his late fifties. Beer belly. Slurred speech.”
I shook my head. “Actually… the opposite.”
He turned his head slightly. “Opposite how?”
“Young. Good-looking. Medical doctor.”
His grip on the wheel tightened. “A medical doctor,” he repeated. “And you just casually admit he was good-looking.”
“I’m not going to sugarcoat it,” I said carefully. “But it’s not like I was attracted to him. You know you’re the only man I have eyes for.”
He didn’t respond right away.
“The fact that you noticed he was good-looking,” he said after a pause, “means you noticed.”
I sighed. “It’s not like I was checking him out. And it’s not like he was hideous either. I have eyes, Michael. That doesn’t mean anything.” That part was true. I hadn’t checked him out.
What I didn’t say was that there had been another doctor. Collins. And there…I was guilty as charged. How his face had stayed with me longer than it should have. That part made me feel disloyal, even in my own thoughts. I hated myself for it.
The car fell quiet after that, the road stretching out in front of us, streetlights passing in slow, steady intervals.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, the tension had softened—but it hadn’t completely disappeared. It lingered between us, unspoken, waiting to be addressed when the night grew quieter, and words became easier.
The moment we stepped inside, the air between us shifted—charged, warm, unmistakable.
Michael didn’t rush me. Instead, he rested one hand against the wall beside my head, the other settling at my waist, close enough that I could feel the steady heat of him without being trapped by it.
His eyes searched mine, dark with something unspoken but controlled.
“So,” he murmured, a teasing edge in his voice, “should I be jealous… or grateful you came home to me?”
I smiled, my pulse quickening despite myself. “That depends,” I said lightly. “Are you going to interrogate me… or kiss me?”
That earned a soft laugh. He leaned in slowly, close enough that his lips brushed mine, just a whisper of contact. “Careful,” he said. “You know I’ve been holding back all evening.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” I whispered.
He kissed me then—not rough, not demanding. He kissed me deeper, and I just melted into it, my hands sliding up his chest, making me gasp for air.
“Michael,” I murmured when we finally parted.
“I trust you,” he said quietly. “But I won’t pretend I don’t feel a bit jealous when other men look at you.”
“I know,” I said softly. “And I chose you. I always do.”
That seemed to settle something in him. His grip loosened, thumb brushing gently against my side instead of holding me there. He kissed my temple, lingering, grounding.
“Come on,” he said, voice lighter now. “Let’s go inside properly. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”