Chapter Eleven
Gabriel
The morning meeting was supposed to be routine.
Hayden had his coffee—black, no sugar, because apparently he enjoyed punishing himself.
Nathan had his tablet with the day’s schedule pulled up, stylus poised as if he were about to conduct a symphony rather than review a list of sore throats and twisted ankles.
Julien sat with perfect posture, reviewing what looked like a complex neurology case with the focused intensity of someone who took everything seriously.
Quinton was already grinning at his phone, probably looking at memes instead of patient charts.
And Fitz had his usual smirk, the one that suggested he knew something the rest of us didn’t and was just waiting for the right moment to detonate that knowledge like a conversational grenade.
I should have seen it coming.
“Alright,” Hayden began, settling into his chair at the head of the conference table. “Let’s run through today’s appointments. Nathan, you’re starting with the Hendersons—follow-up on little Emma’s ear infection?”
“Yep. Should be straightforward. Mom’s been religious about the antibiotics.”
“Good. Gabriel, you’ve got the Morrison kid at nine-thirty. The one who stuck a bead up his nose.”
“Again?” Fitz laughed. “That’s the third time this month. Kid’s going for a record.”
“Make sure you document it properly this time,” Hayden said. “His mother threatened to switch practices if we keep judging her parenting.”
“Fascinating case study in pediatric foreign body aspiration patterns,” Julien said without looking up from his notes. “Though I’d argue it’s more behavioral than neurological.”
“It’s definitely behavioral,” I muttered. “The kid’s a menace.”
“I didn’t judge. I simply suggested that perhaps keeping small objects away from a child with a documented history of nasal insertion might be—”
“Fitz.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be the picture of professional neutrality.”
I flipped open my own file, scanning the list of patients I’d be seeing.
Mrs. Patterson’s blood pressure check. The Kowalski twins for their sports physicals.
A new patient consultation at eleven—some tech executive who’d moved to the area and needed a primary care physician who could work around his “demanding schedule.”
“Unlike the time you told that mom her kid was ‘creatively self-destructive,’” Quinton added helpfully. “That was a fun complaint to field.”
Routine. Predictable.
Exactly how I liked my Mondays.
“Gabriel, you’ve got a full roster today,” Hayden noted. “How did things go this morning with the nanny? Any more issues?”
And there it was—the conversational landmine I’d been hoping to avoid.
“Fine,” I said, not looking up from my file. “She showed up on time.”
“Impressive.” Nathan sounded surprised. “Considering towel-gate.”
“Oh, she’s impressive alright.”
I looked up.
Fitz was grinning. Not his usual smirk—this was something else entirely. Something that made my fingers curl around the edge of my file hard enough to crumple the paper.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nathan asked, glancing between us.
“Oh, nothing,” Fitz said, leaning back in his chair with the casual confidence of a man who was about to ruin my entire morning. “Just that I met the hot, curvy nanny this morning.”
The room went silent.
Hayden’s coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth. Nathan’s stylus stopped mid-air. Julien looked up from his notes with one eyebrow raised. Quinton’s grin widened to shit-eating proportions. And I felt something dark and violent unfurl in my chest like smoke from a fire I’d thought I’d extinguished.
“You what?” Nathan said.
“I met her.” Fitz’s grin widened. “I stopped by Gabriel’s place this morning to grab my watch. I left it there yesterday after the barbecue. Gabriel was upstairs on a call, so I answered the door.”
Of course he did.
Of course, Fitz, with his cologne-commercial face and his practiced charm and his complete inability to read a fucking room, had answered my door when Cate arrived.
“And?” Hayden prompted, now fully invested in this conversation instead of our actual meeting agenda.
“She’s adorable.” Fitz said it as if he were describing a particularly appealing dessert. “I mean, Gabriel mentioned she was good with Megan, but he failed to mention that she looks like a fifties pin-up—”
“We’re here to discuss patients,” I interrupted, my voice flat. “Not my nanny.”
“Oh, come on,” Nathan said. “We spent all night speculating about her. Now Fitz has actually met her. You can’t blame us for being curious.”
I could absolutely blame them. I could blame them for a lot of things, actually, starting with their complete lack of professional boundaries and ending with Fitz’s apparent death wish.
“I can absolutely blame you,” I said. “We’re medical professionals. We have actual work to discuss.”
“From a purely observational standpoint,” Julien said, setting down his pen with deliberate precision, “your defensive response is statistically significant. The probability of such a reaction occurring without underlying emotional investment is approximately—”
“Don’t,” I warned.
“I’m just saying. Clinically speaking, you’re exhibiting classic signs of—”
“Jealousy!” Quinton finished gleefully. “Oh man, this is better than the time that guy came into the ER with a—”
“Quinton,” Hayden said.
“What? I’m just saying Gabriel’s got it bad for the nanny. Look at him. He’s doing that thing with his jaw.”
“She’s my employee,” I said. “That’s all there is to discuss.”
“Your employee who made you burn burgers,” Hayden pointed out. “Your employee who, according to Megan, is ‘the best nanny ever and also really funny.’”
“Your employee who apparently looks good enough to make Fitz use the word ‘adorable,’” Nathan added. “Which, for the record, I’ve never heard him say about anyone.”
Fitz shrugged, unrepentant. “What can I say? She’s cute. Got this whole flustered, wide-eyed thing going on. Kept blinking at me like I’d materialized out of thin air.”
“Not even about his pregnant patients,” Quinton continued. “And some of them have that glow thing going on.”
“That’s inappropriate,” Julien said.
“But accurate,” Quinton countered.
The image of Cate blinking up at Fitz—Fitz, with his practiced lean against the doorframe and his calculated charm—made something hot and acidic rise in my throat.
“She was probably surprised to see a stranger answering the door,” I said, my tone carefully neutral. “Since she was expecting me.”
“Oh, she was definitely surprised.” Fitz’s grin turned knowing. “Especially when I introduced myself. She got all flustered, couldn’t quite meet my eyes. It was endearing.”
Endearing?
Fitz thought Cate’s flustered confusion was endearing.
I thought about Cate standing in my kitchen, brandishing a butter knife like a weapon.
Cate fleeing from my doorstep after blurting out something about a “towel situation.” Cate’s eyes going wide when she looked at me in the hallway this morning, like she was seeing something that both terrified and fascinated her.
That wasn’t endearing. That was—actually, that was exactly endearing, and the fact that Fitz had noticed made me want to throw my coffee mug at his head.
“Did you get your watch?” I asked instead, my voice tight.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Found it on your kitchen counter.” Fitz was still grinning as something devious sparked in his eyes. Something I didn’t like. “Had a nice chat with Cate while I was there. She’s funny. Bit clumsy—nearly tripped over a skateboard on her way in—but funny.”
“She tripped?” Nathan asked.
“Almost. I caught her arm.” Fitz mimed the gesture, and I watched his hand move through the air as if it were happening in slow motion. “She laughed it off, made some joke about gravity having a personal vendetta against her.”
That sounded exactly like something Cate would say.
And the thought of Fitz’s hand on her arm, steadying her, made me want to perform surgery without anesthesia.
On Fitz.
With a rusty spoon.
“Sounds like you two hit it off,” Hayden observed, watching me with an expression that was far too perceptive for eight-thirty on a Monday morning.
“Classic vestibular response to unexpected social interaction,” Julien observed. “The startle reflex combined with—”
“Nobody asked for a neurological breakdown,” I said.
“I’m just saying, clumsiness in the presence of attractive individuals is a documented phenomenon. Increased cortisol, decreased motor control—”
“Oh my God,” Quinton said, laughing. “Gabriel’s gonna have a stroke. Look at his face.”
“I’m not going to have a stroke.”
“Your blood pressure would suggest otherwise,” Julien said mildly.
“We had a pleasant conversation,” Fitz continued as if his life wasn’t in danger. “I might have mentioned grabbing coffee sometime.”
The file in my hands crumpled further.
“You asked out Gabriel’s nanny?” Nathan’s eyebrows shot up. “Bold move.”
“I didn’t ask her out. I suggested coffee. There’s a difference.” Fitz looked directly at me, his grin taking on a challenging edge. “Unless there’s some reason I shouldn’t?”
The room’s attention swiveled to me like a spotlight.
This was a test. Fitz knew it. Hayden and Nathan knew it. Julien was watching with clinical interest. Quinton looked like he was about to take bets. Hell, probably Winnie out at the front desk knew it, and she wasn’t even in the room.
If I objected, I’d reveal that I had opinions about who Cate spent time with. Opinions that had no business existing, given that she was my employee, and I was her employer, and the entire situation was already complicated enough without adding my colleagues into the mix.
If I didn’t object, Fitz would take it as permission to pursue her.
The thought of Fitz pursuing Cate—taking her to coffee, making her laugh, touching her arm when she stumbled, seeing that flustered, wide-eyed expression up close—made me feel like I was being slowly crushed under a hydraulic press.