Chapter 27
Twenty-seven
Liz
Alaric and I have spent the last three nights together, and we seem to be finding a groove.
Fantastic sex every night. Coffee for me and tea for him every morning.
Brushing our teeth side by side. His voice drifting from room to room like it belongs in the air around me.
It feels so much like the version of us that existed before he left me to move here that, sometimes, I have to remind myself to breathe.
And maybe that’s why the empty chair beside mine in the leadership meeting this afternoon hits so hard. He doesn’t miss staff meetings without reason. My mind goes where it shouldn’t, and I hope his sisters are fine. Has Evie gone off the rails again?
He knew this meeting mattered. He knew CME compliance was on the agenda. Still, his seat stays empty as people shuffle papers and settle in. I keep glancing at the door with this stupid little flicker of hope, and every time it’s not him, my heart sinks a little.
The CEO moves through operational updates.
I nod, but nothing registers. All I can see is the empty chair.
Everything seemed fine when we left this morning, so it feels careless that Alaric isn’t here now.
Thoughtless. Like I’m the only one holding the weight of consequences while he assumes everything will work itself out.
And the worst part is the tiny, humiliating sting of regret.
I let myself believe we were finding our way back, that we understood each other.
But honestly, what has changed since he left four years ago?
He’s still living in fear of his family.
I let things get too easy, too familiar.
I should’ve protected myself better. Been smarter.
When the CEO shifts to CME hours and looks my way for my report, I sit straighter. “All providers have met their CME requirements,” I tell the room. “The last of the verifications came in this morning.”
It should be simple.
But Will Morris, head of radiology, decides it won’t be.
“Given that you’re sleeping with Dr. Dempsey,” he says, voice dripping with smugness, “I’m not sure your confirmation is objective.”
Heat burns up my neck. For a split second, I imagine Alaric sitting beside me. A steadying presence. A quiet hand under the table. A simple, grounding look that tells me I’m not alone. Would Morris even have said that if Alaric were here?
The ache that floods through me is worse than the humiliation.
No one speaks. No one defends me. Hudson doesn’t even look me in the eye.
I wish desperately that Trinity was here, but I refuse to fold. “The conference verified all attendance and learning hours. He brought back every course material required. All documentation has been reviewed.”
“Has anyone else verified that he did the work?” Will presses, eyes gleaming.
“That’s the standard process.”
“And he’s not here today,” Will adds, feigning concern. “Suspicious timing.”
The jab lands right in my chest.
The CEO clears his throat. “Let’s have Hudson perform an internal review as well.”
Will smiles like he just won something. “Ethics matter.”
I keep my expression neutral, but humiliation crawls across my skin like fire ants. People file out, pretending not to have witnessed a spectacle, and I’m left standing alone with my bag, trying to hold myself together.
Back in my office, I sit at my desk, staring at my computer screen without seeing a damn thing. It’s late enough in the day that I could probably get away with leaving, but right now I’m shaking with a mix of anger and shame.
My phone buzzes.
Alaric: Mikey’s after work? A drink?
Doesn’t seem like there’s been a family emergency, so what is his reason for missing the staff meeting? And he wants a drink? He has no idea what kind of mess I just dragged myself through.
Me: Fine. I could certainly use one. I’m leaving now. See you there.
Mikey’s is loud and crowded, which doesn’t help my mood. I spot Alaric at a high-top near the window, looking relaxed, drink in hand. His eyes light up when he sees me, which only fans my flames.
He stands, smiling. “Hey. You okay? You look like you had a rough day.”
I pull out my chair and sit. “Where were you at two o’clock?”
He blinks. “In my office. Catching up on charts.”
“Should you have been somewhere else?”
He pauses, thinking. “The leadership meeting?”
He says this as if it’s trivia, like it slipped his mind. My face likely reflects my opinion of that.
“I was behind,” he adds quickly. “I figured they wouldn’t need me. CME verification goes straight to the province. I brought home everything they could want.”
“Well, because you weren’t there, Will Morris tore into you and dragged me down too.”
His expression shifts. “He said something?”
“He questioned my ethics,” I say, heat rising in my face. “My ability to do my job. He brought us up in the middle of the meeting like a weapon.”
Alaric’s jaw tightens. “I didn’t think—”
“No. You didn’t.” My voice rises before I can stop it.
A couple at the next table look over.
“You assume everything will sort itself out,” I say, trying to stay steady. “You believe everyone will be reasonable. And when they’re not, I’m the one left standing in front of the firing squad.”
His shoulders tense. “Liz, that’s not fair—”
“Isn’t it?”
He opens his mouth, closes it again, frustration flashing across his face. “I didn’t skip the meeting because I don’t care. I skipped it because I’m behind, and I thought it wasn’t urgent.”
“Everything feels urgent when it’s exploding in my face,” I snap.
More people turn toward us. I feel the attention prickling along my skin.
Alaric leans forward, voice low. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t be perfect. I’m trying.”
“I don’t need perfect,” I tell him. “I needed you to show up. That’s it. Show up for the job. For yourself. For me.”
He recoils a little.
There’s a long, brittle pause, then he says, “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t care about how I’m seen here? About how you’re seen? I’m drowning, Liz. I came back to hundreds of charts, a backlog of patients, three consults that should’ve been handled while I was away—”
“Don’t put this on your workload,” I cut in. “I’m drowning too. But I didn’t skip the one thing I was responsible for today.”
His jaw clenches. A muscle jumps near his temple. “So that’s what this is,” he says. “You think I’m unreliable.”
I swallow, throat tight. “Today? Yes. I do. And not for the first time,” I can’t help adding.
Alaric’s face shutters, but not in anger—in hurt. “I can’t believe you’d say that.”
“Well, I can’t believe you didn’t show up,” I fire back. “Not after everything we’ve been rebuilding. Not after this week. Not after—” I stop myself, the words too close to the bone. “Being involved with you looks like an ethics issue.”
He looks away first, breath unsteady. “I didn’t know you still saw me that way,” he says. “Like someone who walks out.”
My breath stutters. But I’m too raw to take it back.
He stands abruptly, the stool scraping the floor. “I don’t know how to fix something I didn’t even know was breaking.” He grabs his coat and walks out of Mikey’s without looking back.
I sit stunned, my pulse pounding in my ears as I try to process what just happened.
People stare. Then they look away, pretending they weren’t listening.
My hands tremble as I gather my things.
When I get outside, his car is gone. I didn’t expect him to walk away so easily, but tonight, the outside pressures have finally broken us open. And the pieces didn’t fall anywhere close together.