Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Quinton
It was Friday, and only an hour before the clinic closed.
The last patient for the day had already left, and everyone was going over their charts, making notes, and getting ready for the weekend.
Vivian was in the stockroom ensuring everything was good to go for Monday, while Winnie was clicking away at her computer, making scheduling changes for next week.
So far, everything had been going according to Julien’s well-devised, color-coded plan.
I should have known it was too good to be true. Because as I was handing Winnie my files, the clinic door opened and revealed a walking cautionary tale for steroid use, dressed in an expensively tailored suit.
The man had a good three inches on me, maybe more if I were being honest. He actually paused mid-stride to check his reflection, adjusting his collar just so, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.
I knew exactly who he was. He had that self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face, the kind that said he thought he was God’s gift to humanity.
The way he stood there, soaking in his own image like Narcissus at the pond, told me everything I needed to know about his character before he even opened his mouth.
He was the boyfriend.
I felt my jaw clench.
“May I help you?” Winnie asked, looking up from her computer before I could utter a word.
The fucker smiled a megawatt grin, licked his lips as he leaned against the receptionist desk, and said, “Wow. You’re gorgeous.”
I growled.
Actually growled like some kind of territorial animal watching a predator circle his mate.
Winnie blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. Are you looking for someone?”
“Not anymore.” The man winked, extending his hand. “I’m Colton Whitcomb.”
“Oh, you’re Vivian’s boyfriend.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Vivian’s boyfriend. Right. Because she was still technically dating this spray-tanned, mirror-obsessed, protein-shake-chugging, selfie-taking, gym-rat excuse for a human being.
The guy who spent more time flexing in front of every reflective surface than he did having an actual conversation.
The guy who probably knew his macros better than he knew Vivian’s middle name.
The guy who unironically referred to himself as an “alpha male” and posted motivational quotes over pictures of himself doing bicep curls.
“So she says,” Colton replied with a laugh that made me want to commit a felony. “Is she around?”
Winnie turned to me with a smile that was far too innocent for what she was about to do. “Dr. Wesley, would you please go find Vivian and tell her she has a guest waiting to see her?”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell Colton that Vivian was busy.
That she left early. That she had joined a convent and taken a vow of celibacy.
Instead, I grumbled something unintelligible, handed Winnie my files with more force than necessary, and strode away, mumbling mainly to myself about the injustice of being sent on errands like some kind of medical messenger boy.
I bumped into Fitz in the hallway. “Whoa, mate,” he said, steadying himself. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
“Vivian’s boyfriend is here,” I said through gritted teeth.
Fitz’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “The infamous Colton? The gym selfie king himself?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh, this I have to see.” He slapped me on the back with far too much enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ll take care of it.”
I should have questioned that. I should have asked what “take care of it” meant.
But I was too busy being irrationally jealous to think straight, so I just nodded and went to find Vivian.
I located her just as she was leaving the stockroom, clipboard in hand, looking absolutely beautiful in her scrubs and completely unaware of the disaster waiting for her in the lobby.
Upon seeing me, she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Your boyfriend is here.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Colton. He’s in the lobby. Hitting on Winnie.”
“Oh God.” She looked genuinely panicked for a moment, then seemed to steel herself. “Okay. Okay, this is fine. I was going to do this tomorrow, but—” She leaned up and gave me a quick kiss.
Right there in the hallway. Where anyone could see.
I didn’t care.
“Give me a few minutes,” she said quietly. “I’ll get rid of him.”
I watched her walk away, her shoulders squared with determination, and felt a surge of pride mixed with anxiety.
This was it.
She was actually going to do it.
“Quinton?”
I turned to find Gabriel, Hayden, and Nathan all stepping out of their offices, looking curious.
“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked.
“Vivian’s boyfriend just showed up.”
“The steroid guy?” Nathan asked.
“That’s the one.”
“And Vivian’s going to—” Hayden started.
“Break up with him,” I confirmed. “Right now.”
“Where’s Fitz?”
“He went to, and I quote, ‘take care of it.’”
Gabriel’s eyes went wide. “You sent Fitz to deal with him!”
I nodded.
“Oh no,” Gabriel said.
“What?” I asked.
“Quinton,” Nathan said slowly. “You sent Fitz, our Fitz, the man who got arrested for serenading the police, to handle a delicate social situation involving your girlfriend’s current boyfriend.”
When he put it like that... “Oh God,” I said.
Gabriel, Nathan, Hayden, and I all ran to the waiting room.
What I witnessed when we got there was pure British gold. Vivian was standing near the reception desk, clearly trying to have a serious conversation with Colton, who was—I kid you not—flexing his biceps while talking to Winnie about his workout routine.
“—and then I do four sets of twenty on the cable machine,” he was saying. “Really gets the definition, you know?”
“Colton,” Vivian said, her voice tight. “Can we talk? Privately?”
“Sure, babe, just give me a sec.” He turned back to Winnie. “So what do you do for fitness? You look like you do yoga. Am I right? I bet I’m right.”
Winnie looked uncomfortable. “I—”
“Colton,” Vivian tried again. “This is important.”
“Babe, I’m just being friendly.” He leaned closer to Winnie. “You should come to my gym sometime. I could show you around. Maybe spot you on the bench press.”
That was when Fitz appeared.
He materialized out of nowhere like some kind of British avenging angel, positioning himself between Colton and Winnie with a smile that could cut glass.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Fitz said, his accent suddenly about three times more pronounced than usual.
“But I couldn’t help but overhear, and I feel I must intervene. ”
Colton looked up, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “Who are you?”
“Dr. Fitzpatrick Lovejoy,” Fitz said smoothly, extending his hand. “OBGYN, master of seduction and possibly knighted if I remember correctly, but more importantly, a gentleman who recognizes when a lady is being made to feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not making anyone uncomfortable,” Colton said, though he shook Fitz’s hand. “I’m just being nice.”
“Ah, yes. ‘Nice.’” Fitz’s smile didn’t waver. “That peculiar American interpretation of the word that somehow includes unsolicited fitness advice and invasive personal space violations.”
Winnie’s eyes narrowed. “I can handle this myself, Fitz.”
“I’m quite certain you can, darling,” Fitz said. “But why should you have to?”
“Because I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need a man to defend her honor like this is some kind of Victorian novel,” Winnie snapped. “And I am not your darling.”
“I’m not defending your honor,” Fitz said. “I’m defending basic human decency and the right to do one’s job without being subjected to”—he gestured vaguely at Colton—“whatever this is.”
“Hey,” Colton said, looking offended. “I was just talking.”
“You were leering,” Fitz corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“I don’t leer.”
“Mate, you’ve been staring at her chest for the past five minutes.”
“I have not!”
“You absolutely have,” Gabriel muttered from behind me.
Colton’s face reddened. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I’ve already introduced myself,” Fitz said pleasantly. “Dr. Fitzpatrick Lovejoy, OBGYN. British. Devastatingly handsome. Shall I continue?”
Despite everything, I had to bite back a laugh.
Vivian looked as if she were caught between mortification and hysterical laughter.
Winnie looked furious.
And Colton looked confused.
“Colton,” Vivian tried again. “Can we please?”
“Babe, hold on,” Colton said, still focused on Fitz. “This guy just accused me of—”
“Being a wanker?” Fitz supplied helpfully. “Yes, I did. And I stand by it.”
“Fitz!” Winnie snapped. “I don’t need you to—”
“Of course you don’t, darling,” Fitz said. “You’re perfectly capable of handling this yourself. But that doesn’t mean you should have to. This is your workplace. You deserve to feel safe and respected here.”
“I do feel safe!”
“Wonderful. Then my work here is done.” Fitz turned back to Colton with a smile. “No hard feelings, mate?”
Colton looked baffled. “I... what?”
“I said, no hard feelings.” Fitz clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, I can see you’re a decent bloke who perhaps just doesn’t realize when he’s coming on a bit strong. It happens. Especially with you American types. All that confidence and none of the self-awareness.”
“I have self-awareness,” Colton protested.
“Do you?” Fitz asked. “Because you walked into a medical clinic at closing time, ignored your girlfriend’s attempts to speak with you, and instead decided to chat up the receptionist about cable machines.”
Colton blinked. “When you put it like that.”
“It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it?”
“I mean—”
“But!” Fitz said brightly. “I’m willing to overlook it. Because I suspect the real issue here is that you’re simply not very good at reading social cues. Which, coincidentally, is something I’ve been accused of myself on numerous occasions.”
“You have?” Colton asked.
“Oh, constantly,” Fitz said. “Women are terribly complicated, aren’t they? Always expecting us to know what they’re thinking without actually telling us.”
I saw Winnie’s eye twitch.
Vivian looked as if she was about to explode.