24. Dalton
24
DALTON
I ’m never sure exactly what tipped Nadia and me into this new relationship, but I don’t question it.
The next two weeks are nothing short of perfect. The kittens get stronger. The mama cat takes over the feedings. They all learn how to use the litter box. And the end of every shift finds me home with Nadia, never too tired to strip her naked and have my way with her.
Our lives are a long string of cats, showers, meals, and sex.
I finally get my shot at assisting in an advanced procedure at the hospital, and I feel considerably more doctor-like.
Nadia comes up with the clever idea of a pickle breaded in crumbled spicy Cheetos, named the Hot Pickle, which becomes a colossal hit after making the rounds on social media.
We discover we both love 80s sitcoms and spend hours cuddled with the cats watching the Golden Girls and Cheers .
One night, as I’m running my tongue along the side of her waist, searching for any spot I haven’t yet tasted, I look up to see her, watching me with those warm eyes and something expands in my chest.
Before my thinking brain can jump in and slow me down, I find myself saying, “I love you.”
Her eyes widen.
My immediate reaction is to try to take it back. This was too fast. It’s only been a few weeks since we first slept together, only a couple of months since we met.
As my brain frantically tries to come up with a way to play off the words, Nadia reaches out to press a warm hand on my shoulder. “I understand what you’re saying. It’s been tender between us for a long time. Since the cats, maybe?”
The adrenaline starts to drain. Maybe I didn’t screw up.
“I think so.”
“Have you been in love before?” she asks. “Or is it bad luck to talk about exes when we’re naked?”
“Only if I’m inside you when I answer.”
She laughs.
I sit against the wall, my legs straight out on the bed. I drag her body over to mine, arranging her knees on either side of my thighs.
Then I grasp her hips and yank her body toward mine, sliding inside her with a swift, powerful stroke.
She sucks in a breath. “Shit,” she says, and I smile that I’ve brought her to cursing. It’s rare.
“Still wanna know?” I ask.
“Maybe not yet.” Her voice is jagged and raw.
I hold on to her hips, rocking her against me. I set the pace, but then she lifts her body up and slams it down on mine. I love it when she takes control.
She grabs both my wrists and pins them against the wall. Her breasts shift in front of me, tantalizing and soft. The sight of her naked and in charge makes me outrageously hot.
She moves faster and faster, and I close my eyes, feeling the hard slam of her body as it connects to mine, the friction as I move inside her. She presses hard on my wrists as she grinds down, rotating in tiny circles on my lap.
Damn. We’re ridiculously compatible. We read each other’s minds. Although sometimes, we can completely surprise each other.
Her voice rises in its keening cry. My name is mixed with other garbled words.
I love this. I feel it when her body clamps down on mine. The tightness threatens to set me off, but I hold back a little longer until that specific point in her cry that tells me she’s hit her max.
She gets there, and my control is lost, my whole body suffused with the intensity of filling her.
Nadia collapses against my chest, and I hold her tightly now that my arms are on my own again. We breathe against each other for a moment, and then she says, “You’re still inside me. Have you been in love before?” It’s almost as if the conversation never paused.
It’s an easy answer. I wrap an arm around her neck. “No. You are my first.”
I decide not to ask her the same question. I don’t want to know the answer. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m in the now, and this present moment is all about Nadia.
The cats have come to understand when we’re available and when we’re not. Since the room has quieted, the bed thumps with the arrival of six sets of paws, two grown and four tiny.
Catzilla lies against Nadia’s leg. Mama Cat curls next to her. They are all properly aside, not completely invading our space.
The kittens, however, have no such social graces. They crawl over Nadia’s thighs, falling into the space between us. A tiny claw pierces my belly.
“Hey!” I say, lifting the offender, Ferris Mewler, as usual. I bring his white face to mine. “Have a little delicacy!”
Nadia laughs hard enough that she pushes me right out of her. And that’s it. Clean up must happen or we’ll be washing cats.
She picks up the kittens and sets them aside. “Make your escape.”
I do, heading for the bathroom. “Of course you can shower with me. The cats won’t follow us there, water and all.”
She considers it. “Okay. You’ve convinced me.”
I hold out my hand and she takes it, and our life together continues its glorious rise and fall beneath the warm spray.
I’ve never known a time like this.
The intern games are the next day. In them, teams from surgery, maternity, oncology, and emergency compete in various hospital-themed challenges.
Maybe I got less sleep than I should have, up with Nadia half the night, but I feel invincible, like I am drunk on happiness and sleep is optional.
Harrington, Fitz, and I team up. We all convene in the last curtain row of the ER, the one least used, particularly on a weekday morning.
The nurses have moved the row aside to give us extra space.
The first challenge is the PPE race, where we have to locate and put on a mask, hairnet, gown, gloves, goggles, and shoe covering.
We need two members.
“I’m a total klutz,” Harrington says. “Dalton, you and Fitz go.”
“I concur,” Fitz says. “Harrington would trip on a spider.”
Oncology chooses two interns. I eyeball the PPE strewn about. Gloves should go last, since they will slow me down. Shoe covers next to last, as they can be slippery. Goggles also late, since it’s harder to see. But masks make it harder to breathe.
Then it’s too late to strategize. Booker lifts her arm and shouts, “Go!”
“We should collect first,” Fitz hisses as we dive beneath a gurney to grab goggles.
Right. Collect and then put it on.
The other team hasn’t thought of this, pausing to shove caps on their heads. They realize their mistake when one of them ducks beneath the gurney to get goggles and the hat gets caught on a knob. They lose precious time pulling it off.
Not all the items are grouped. There’s only one gown in the stack, so I leave it to Fitz and search out the other items. I feel light, springing over a stool to snatch up a pair of shoe covers and leaping high into the air to snag a mask, which are dangling from where they are tucked into the noise dampening ceiling tiles.
Fitz is height challenged, so I leap a second time for hers and toss it her way. “Thanks!” she says.
Neither member of oncology can jump that high, so they are forced to drag a stool over.
My heart is pumping as I slide beneath a sink to snag a partially hidden gown. This challenge is an obstacle course, scavenger hunt, and dressing challenge all in one.
The caps are on the counter but where are the gloves? I open cabinets, finally finding a pair in a drawer. Almost there. I drop it all on an empty bed to start dressing.
Gown. Shoe covers. Mask. Cap. Goggles. The gloves are hard on my sweaty palms.
Fitz is still trying to find gloves. “Murphy!” she calls.
Right. I leave my goggles on my head and start searching.
Oncology has acquired everything and are dressing.
“You dress and I’ll search,” I tell Fitz.
She starts madly shoving her arms in the gown.
Where are those last gloves?
I spot a gurney in the corner with a suspicious lump beneath the paper sheet. I press my hands into the bed between me and it, hopping over the mattress in a clean jump.
Yes, it’s gloves.
Oncology is trying to get their gloves on. Fitz is tying her gown. She looks up.
“Catch!” I yell at her and fling the gloves across the room.
She snags them, and her cool confidence saves her as the gloves, which are probably a size too small for the rest of us, slide onto her hands easily.
We dash for Booker seconds before oncology gets their gloves on.
Booker nods and turns toward the lead resident for oncology. “Told you my interns were superior.”
It’s a small victory, but we’ll take it.
When a nurse snaps our picture as the winners, I forward the image on to Nadia with the text “You make me invincible.”
Because she does.