Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Vivian
I followed Quinton into the clinic like a woman walking toward her own execution.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. My hands were shaking. My stomach felt like I had swallowed a bag of rocks. This is fine, I told myself. Everything is fine. Julien won’t care. He’ll just be annoyed. Maybe mildly irritated. Possibly homicidal.
Okay, not fine.
Quinton was three steps ahead of me, his shoulders squared, his jaw set in that terrifyingly calm way that meant he made up his mind and nothing—nothing—was going to change it.
I wanted to grab him by the arm and drag him back to the parking lot. I wanted to scream at him to stop being so stupidly noble. I wanted to—I nearly slammed into his back when he stopped abruptly just inside the entrance. “What the—” I started, then looked up and froze.
Standing near the reception desk, arranged in a semicircle like some kind of twisted welcoming committee, were Fitz, Gabriel, Hayden, and Nathan.
All four of them. At 7:09 in the morning. With enormous, conspiratorial grins plastered across their faces.
Oh my God!
“Morning, Quinton,” Fitz said cheerfully, his British accent somehow even more pronounced than usual. “Lovely day for a confession, isn’t it?”
“What are you doing here?” Quinton asked, his voice flat.
“Moral support,” Gabriel said.
“Emotional backup,” Nathan added.
“Witnessing history,” Hayden said dryly.
I wanted to die. Actually die. Right there in the lobby of Clinically Approved, surrounded by the most obnoxiously unsupportive group of doctors in the entire state of Connecticut.
“You didn’t have to—” Quinton started.
“Oh, we absolutely did,” Fitz interrupted. “This is the most entertainment we’ve had in months. Possibly years. Possibly even rivaling Julien’s mental breakdown when he married Athena. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Fitz.”
“Besides,” Nathan said, grinning, “someone needs to be here to call 911 when Julien murders you. And nothing will top Julien’s mental crisis.”
“It wasn’t a crisis, and I’m not going to get murdered.”
“You’re absolutely going to get murdered,” Gabriel said, then added, “Was totally a crisis. We’ve got video, which you took as proof.”
I bit down on my thumbnail, my panic spiraling.
This is a nightmare. This is an actual living nightmare.
And then, as if the universe had decided to torment me further, Julien appeared.
He strode in through the main entrance, his tablet clutched under one arm, coffee in the other hand, wearing the same flat, unimpressed expression that had become his trademark.
I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen.
He stopped abruptly, staring at the group clustered near reception. His gaze flicked to his watch, then back to us. “Why are all of you here before me?” he asked, his tone slow and deliberate, the question hanging in the air like a guillotine blade ready to drop.
My heart hammered in my chest as Julien’s gaze swept over us, the silence stretching until it felt suffocating. I could barely breathe, anxiety prickling along my skin.
Nobody spoke. We all seemed to freeze, uncertain whether to offer an explanation or simply hope he’d move on.
Fitz’s grin widened, his eyes bright with anticipation—a mischievous sparkle betraying how much he was relishing the moment. He looked utterly delighted, almost as if he were waiting for the curtain to rise on a drama he’d been hoping to see.
Gabriel shifted his weight, eyes darting between Julien and Quinton, clearly uneasy about what was coming next. The tension in his posture made it obvious he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, his fingers fidgeting at his sides.
Nathan pressed his lips together, shoulders trembling as he fought not to laugh. He cast quick, amused glances at the others, barely containing his amusement.
Hayden just sighed, rubbing his temples as though already exhausted by the drama unfolding around him, his patience thinning with each passing second.
And Quinton—poor, doomed, stupidly noble Quinton—looked pale, his jaw clenched and his hands trembling. He looked like he was about to throw up, barely holding himself together as the pressure mounted.
“Well?” Julien pressed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the group, demanding an answer with only a look.
Fitz stepped forward, hands casually tucked into his pockets, that infuriatingly charming smile never faltering. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said simply, his tone light but steady, refusing to back down from the challenge in Julien’s eyes.
Julien stared at him, the silence thickening, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Then his eyes scanned the rest of the group, measuring each of us, searching for signs of guilt or fear.
Finally, he fixed his gaze on Quinton, who seemed to shrink beneath the scrutiny, his breathing shallow and rapid.
For one brief, terrifying moment, I waited for Julien to demand an explanation right there in the lobby, my mind racing with possible escape routes.
Instead, he turned on his heel and marched toward his office.
“Five minutes, Quinton,” he called over his shoulder, the words slicing through the tension.
Then his office door shut with a decisive click.
The second—the second—that door closed, everyone started talking at once.
“You don’t have to do this—”
“There’s still time to run—”
“We could fake a medical emergency—”
“I have a cousin in Canada—”
“Quinton, listen to me—”
“This is a TERRIBLE idea—”
“You’re going to ruin everything—”
“Julien’s going to kill you—”
“We can still fix this—”
The voices overlapped, a cacophony of panic and desperation and increasingly ridiculous escape plans that ranged from “fake your own death” to “move to Argentina.”
I stood there, frozen, watching Quinton’s face. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Didn’t even blink. He just stood there, jaw set, shoulders squared, looking like a man who had already made peace with his fate.
“Quinton,” Gabriel said, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do this. Not today. Not like this.”
“I do,” Quinton said quietly.
“No, you really don’t,” Nathan argued. “You could just, I don’t know... not tell him? Keep it a secret? Live in blissful denial for the rest of your life?”
“That’s not an option.”
“It’s absolutely an option,” Fitz said. “A perfectly viable option. I’ve been living in denial for years. It’s quite comfortable.”
“Fitz.”
“I’m serious. Denial is underrated. You should try it.”
“I’m not living in denial.”
“You’re about to live in a coffin,” Hayden muttered.
Quinton took a breath, then looked at me. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the resolve in his eyes, the quiet determination that made my chest ache, and then he turned and walked toward Julien’s office.
“Quinton!” Gabriel loudly whispered.
But he was already gone. The door to Julien’s office opened and then closed. And we were left standing there in the lobby, staring at the shut door like it was the entrance to a tomb.
“Well,” Fitz said after a long moment. “That’s that, then.”
“He’s dead,” Nathan said flatly.
“Completely dead,” Gabriel agreed.
“Should we start planning the funeral?” Hayden asked.
I bit down harder on my thumbnail, my heart pounding.
This is it. This is the moment. Quinton is in there right now, telling Julien that he slept with me, and Julien is going to—What? Rage? Yell? Throw something? No, Julien didn’t rage. Julien didn’t yell. Julien got quiet. Which was somehow worse.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Nathan asked.
“Five minutes,” Gabriel said. “Maybe ten if Julien lectures him about professionalism.”
“Or twenty if he murders him slowly,” Fitz added.
“Can we not joke about murder right now?” I snapped.
Everyone turned to look at me.
“Right,” Fitz said slowly. “Sorry, Viv. Didn’t mean to—”
“I’m fine,” I blurted. “I’m just—I’m fine.”
I wasn’t fine. I was the opposite of fine. I was standing in the lobby of my workplace, watching the man I—No! Not going there. Not now.
“He’ll be okay,” Gabriel whispered. “Julien’s not going to kill him.”
“He might maim him,” Nathan said.
“Nathan.”
“I’m just saying! Julien’s very precise. If he’s going to maim someone, he’ll do it right.”
“That’s not helping,” I said.
“Sorry.”
We fell into silence.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Then two.
I was going to lose my mind. Actually lose my mind.
Right there in the lobby, surrounded by four doctors who were supposed to be helping but were instead planning Quinton’s funeral like it was a done deal.
“What do you think he’s saying?” Nathan asked.
“Probably ‘I slept with your sister,’” Fitz said. “Short and to the point.”
“Or ‘I have feelings for Vivian,’” Gabriel suggested.
“Or ‘Please don’t kill me,’” Hayden added.
“Can we stop—” I started, and then the door to Julien’s office opened.
Everyone froze as Quinton stepped out.
He looked confused. Not angry. Not devastated. Not like a man who’d just confessed to sleeping with his best friend’s sister and lived to tell the tale.
Just... confused.
“Well?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Quinton looked at me, then at Fitz. Then at Gabriel, Nathan, and Hayden. “I never got the chance to say a word,” he drawled.
Silence.
“What?” Fitz said.
“I walked in,” Quinton continued, still looking bewildered. “Sat down. Opened my mouth to talk. And Julien just... he cut me off.”
“Cut you off?” Gabriel repeated.
“Yeah. He said he didn’t have time for whatever I was about to say because he had something more important to discuss.”
“More important than you sleeping with his sister?” Nathan asked incredulously.
“Apparently.”
“Then what did he want?” Fitz asked.
Quinton rubbed the back of his neck, looking directly at me. “He asked me to cover the clinic next week,” he said. “Apparently, Julien is taking a vacation.”
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
And then everyone gasped. Like at the exact same time. Like a perfectly synchronized choir of shock.
“A vacation?” Gabriel said.
“Julien doesn’t take vacations,” Nathan said.
“Julien doesn’t even take lunch breaks,” Hayden added.
“He’s taking a vacation,” Quinton repeated. “To—and I quote—‘spend time with his wife and children before they drive him completely insane.’”
I stared at him. “That’s it?” I said. “That’s all he wanted?”
“That’s all he wanted.”
“He didn’t... he didn’t ask why you wanted to talk to him?”
“Nope.”
“He didn’t suspect anything?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“He just... he just asked you to cover the clinic?”
“Yep.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, and then I started laughing. Not a polite laugh. Not a quiet, controlled laugh. A full, hysterical, borderline-manic laugh that made everyone turn to stare at me like I had lost my mind.
Which I had because I had lost an entire night’s sleep.
I had driven to the clinic an hour early.
I had nearly rammed another driver off the road.
I had subjected myself to Fitz’s relentless texts about “Sir Quinton Wesley, Knight of Terrible Decisions.” I’d stood in the parking lot and watched Quinton walk toward what I thought was certain doom.
And for what?
For Julien to ask him to cover the clinic while he went on vacation.
“Vivian?” Quinton said carefully. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I replied, still laughing. “I’m absolutely fine. Everything is fine. This is fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I got zero hours of sleep last night,” I said, my voice rising. “Zero. Because I thought you were going to confess to my brother and ruin everything. And instead... instead he just asked you to cover the clinic.”
“I mean—”
“I almost killed someone on the highway this morning!”
“That’s—”
“I blocked Fitz’s number at 1:30 AM.”
“To be fair,” Fitz said, “I was being very annoying.”
“And now you’re telling me,” I continued, ignoring him, “that Julien didn’t even care because he was too busy planning a vacation?”
“Technically—”
“A vacation, Quinton.”
“I know.”
“Julien doesn’t take vacations.”
“I know.”
“He barely takes bathroom breaks.”
“I know.”
I stared at him, and then I started laughing again. Because what else was I supposed to do?
“Well,” Fitz said after a long moment. “That was anticlimactic.”
“Extremely anticlimactic,” Nathan agreed.
“I’m almost disappointed,” Hayden said.
“Almost?” Gabriel said. “I’m completely disappointed. I was expecting blood. Maybe some shouting. At least a strongly worded lecture.”
“Instead, we got vacation plans,” Nathan said.
“Vacation plans,” Fitz repeated, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
Quinton looked at me and despite everything, despite the sleepless night, the panic, the desperate scheming, I couldn’t stop smiling. Because he was okay. We were okay. And Julien was going on vacation.
“So,” Quinton said slowly. “I guess I’m covering the clinic next week.”
“I guess you are,” I said.
“And I still haven’t told Julien.”
“Nope.”
“Which means—”
“Which means you’re going to have to do this all over again,” Fitz said cheerfully.
Quinton groaned, and everyone started laughing.