Chapter Fourteen
Athena
The universe was speaking to me in whispers this morning.
Not the loud, obvious kind, like when I had seen Julien in that conference room in Vegas and the entire cosmos had basically screamed, “THAT ONE! THAT’S YOUR PERSON!
” but the quieter kind, the kind that settled in my chest like warm honey and said, “Pay attention. This matters. He needs you more than you thought.”
I watched Julien move around his kitchen.
Precise, controlled, and every motion deliberate, like he was performing surgery on the coffeemaker, and I could see it now, really see it.
The way his shoulders were just slightly too tense, the way he kept checking his phone like he was expecting bad news, the way he made two cups of coffee without even realizing it—one for him and one for me.
Which meant some part of him, some deep subconscious part, had already accepted that I was here, that I belonged here, even if his conscious mind was still fighting it.
He needs me, I thought, accepting the cup he handed me with our fingers brushing for just a moment, triggering that familiar spark that said, “Yes, this is right; this is exactly where you’re supposed to be,” and I made a promise right then and there to the universe and to myself and to him even though he couldn’t hear it...
I was going to use every single spiritual skill I had, every universal connection, every cosmic insight, to help this man who was so busy being perfect and controlled and precise that he had forgotten how to just... be.
“I have to go to the clinic,” he said, not meeting my eyes, his voice still tight and controlled but with something softer underneath. “I have patients. Surgeries. A full schedule.”
“I know.”
“So I’ll be gone most of the day.”
“Okay.”
He looked at me suspiciously, like he was waiting for me to argue or follow him or materialize in his surgical suite, which—okay, fair, I had materialized in his bed this morning, but that was different, that was the universe guiding me, not me being intrusive.
“You’re... okay with that?”
“Of course!” I smiled because I could feel it, the way the universe was already showing me what needed to happen. “You have important work to do. People who need you.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting this level of understanding.
“Right. Yes. Important work.”
“I’ll probably explore the city a bit. Get a feel for the energy here.”
“That sounds... reasonable.”
“Very reasonable.”
“Surprisingly reasonable.”
“I can be reasonable, Julien.”
He looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t quite figure out how.
“Okay then,” he said finally, grabbing his briefcase and his coat. “I’ll be back this evening. We can... talk. About everything.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He hesitated at the door, and for just a moment, I saw it. The vulnerability underneath all that control, the part of him that was scared and overwhelmed and maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit grateful that he wasn’t facing this alone.
“Athena—”
“Go,” I said gently. “Your patients need you.”
He nodded, still looking uncertain, and then he was gone.
I waited exactly thirty seconds. Counting them out loud because the universe appreciated precision too, just in different ways, and then I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
Because yes, Julien’s patients needed him.
But Julien needed me.
And the universe had just shown me exactly where I needed to be.
The clinic was called Clinically Approved, which I loved immediately because it was both professional and slightly playful, like someone had a sense of humor about the whole medical establishment thing, and when I walked through the doors, I was hit with this wave of warmth.
Not physical warmth, though the heating was very nice, but energy warmth, the kind that said, “People care here. People heal here. This is a good place.”
The waiting room was beautiful in an understated way.
The soft gray walls had touches of blue, and there were plants in the corners—the real ones, not plastic, which was a very good sign—and comfortable chairs arranged in small clusters instead of rigid rows, and natural light streaming through large windows that made everything feel open and welcoming instead of clinical and cold.
Julien works here, I thought, looking around. This is where he spends his days, helping people, fixing things that are broken, being brilliant and precise, and probably terrifying to his staff.
No wonder he’s so tired.
Behind the reception desk sat a woman who made me stop and stare.
Not because she was beautiful, though she absolutely was, but because her energy was so interesting—all organized and efficient on the surface but with these little sparks of warmth underneath, like she was someone who had built walls around herself but hadn’t quite managed to seal all the cracks.
She had blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun, bright blue eyes behind stylish glasses, and she was wearing a cream-colored blouse that was perfectly pressed and professional, and when she looked up at me, her smile was polite but genuine.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming. “Welcome to Clinically Approved. Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I’m actually—” I walked up to the desk, already feeling that pull, that cosmic certainty that said, “Pay attention. This person matters.” “I’m here to see Dr. Darcy. Julien Darcy.”
Her smile brightened. “Oh! Are you a colleague? Or—”
“I’m his wife.”
I said it simply, matter-of-factly, and watched her eyes widen just slightly before her professional composure snapped back into place.
“His wife,” she repeated, and there was something in her voice. Surprise, definitely, but also curiosity and maybe a hint of amusement. “I’m Winnifred Potter, but please call me Winnie. I’m the administrative coordinator here.”
“Athena.” I reached across the desk to shake her hand, and the moment our hands touched, I felt it. That spark of recognition—not romantic like with Julien, but connection, the kind that said, “We’re going to be friends, you and I. We’re going to understand each other.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Athena.” Winnie’s smile was genuine now, not just professional. “I have to say, Dr. Darcy didn’t mention—”
“That he got married in Vegas three days ago?” a voice interrupted, smooth and British and absolutely dripping with amusement.
I turned to see a man leaning against the reception counter. Tall, dark-haired, with green eyes that sparkled with mischief and a smile that probably got him out of all kinds of trouble, wearing scrubs and a white coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck like a fashion accessory.
Oh, I thought. This must be Fitz.
“Dr. Fitzpatrick Lovejoy,” he said, extending his hand with a grin that was equal parts charming and delighted. “But please, call me Fitz. And you must be the famous Athena.”
“Famous?” I shook his hand, feeling his energy—playful, warm, genuinely kind underneath all that charm.
“Oh, absolutely. You’re already a legend. The woman who married Julien Darcy in Vegas after he got spectacularly drunk and decided to throw caution to the wind for the first time in his entire life.” His grin widened.
Winnie was staring at both of us now, her professional composure cracking slightly. “Wait. Julien got married? In Vegas? And you didn’t tell me?”
“And ruin our tentative truce?” Fitz challenged.
“I hate you.”
Fitz blew the woman a kiss, and she rolled her eyes.
I laughed because I couldn’t help it. Fitz’s energy was infectious— all light and humor and genuine affection for Julien underneath the teasing.
“The universe brought us together,” I explained to Winnie, who was still glaring at Fitz. “I saw him at his presentation and I just knew! You know that feeling? When everything inside you says, ‘That’s the one. That’s your person. That’s who you’ve been waiting for’?”
“I... can’t say I do, actually,” Winnie said carefully.
“Well, it’s very powerful. Very cosmic. The universe basically grabbed us both and said, ‘You two belong together!’ and who am I to argue with the universe?”
“Who indeed,” Fitz murmured, his eyes dancing with amusement. “So tell me, Athena. What brings you to our humble clinic? Surely not just to visit your husband?”
“Actually, yes. I wanted to see where he works. To understand this part of his life.”
“How wonderfully supportive.” Fitz leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Between you and me, he’s been an absolute nightmare this morning.
Snapping at everyone, reorganizing things that don’t need reorganizing.
Generally radiating anxiety like a nuclear reactor. I assume that’s your doing?”
“The universe works in mysterious ways.”
“Clearly.” He grinned. “I like you. You’re exactly the kind of chaos Julien needs in his life.”
“I prefer to think of it as cosmic balance.”
“Even better.”
Winnie was watching our exchange with an expression that was half-amused, half-concerned. “Dr. Lovejoy, shouldn’t you be—”
“Doing literally anything else? Probably. But this is far more entertaining.” He turned back to me. “So, Athena, tell me. What’s it like being married to the most uptight, controlling, obsessively organized man in the entire medical profession?”
“He’s not uptight,” I said, feeling suddenly defensive. “He’s just... precise. And he cares deeply about doing things right. That’s not a flaw; it’s—”
“A feature?” Fitz suggested.
“Exactly.”
“You really do love him, don’t you?” His voice had softened, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. “Even after three days.”
“The universe doesn’t work on human timelines.”
“Fair point.”
“And yes,” I added quietly. “I do. I see him. Really see him. Not just the control and the precision, but the person underneath. The one who’s scared and tired and trying so hard to be perfect that he’s forgotten how to be human.”
Fitz studied me for a long moment, and I could see the shift in his energy, from playful to serious, from teasing to understanding.
“He’s lucky to have you,” he said finally.