Chapter 5
FIVE
The fever disappeared almost instantly. Dr. Shaw told me I was free to go home and to just let them know when we needed a room again. They didn’t even keep me for observation. That’s how sure they were of the effect of the… treatment.
I’m in bed now, staring at my ceiling. It’s late, and I should probably try to sleep, but I can’t. I’m waiting for Annie to come home from work so she can help me sort through what just happened to me.
The second I hear the front door open, I bolt out of bed and scramble into our shared living room. She looks up at me, startled.
“Jesus—you scared me,” she says, dropping her backpack on the floor and toeing off her shoes.
The confession tumbles out of me. “Mr. Bennett gave me the best orgasm of my life, and I think I have a crush on him now.”
She raises her hand. “Let me change out of my scrubs first, and then we’ll have that conversation.”
Ten minutes later, we’re both on the couch in our pajamas.
“I can’t believe R2-D2 has magic fingers,” Annie says, taking a sip from her wine glass.
I shake my head and smile. “It was fucking incredible. He even did the pinch-and-roll.”
She tips her head back and groans. “I fucking love the pinch-and-roll.”
I go over the entire event, from start to finish, in minute detail. She listens intently, reacting appropriately with gasps and oh-my-gods.
“And oh,” I say. “The bed had stirrups. How disgusting is that? Like they did mean for me to—”
Annie’s expression changes slightly. “It’s not an RHV thing. That room used to be part of maternity.”
“What?”
“The whole section did.” She takes another sip of wine. “They closed half the floor last year because there weren’t enough patients to justify keeping it open.”
“What do they use it for now?”
“A little bit of everything. Outpatient procedures, storage, overflow when another department is full.” She pauses. “They cleared a couple of the old rooms for RHV when the hospital got the new guidelines.”
I think back to the pale walls. The locked door. Dr. Shaw waiting on the other side while my boss put his hand between my legs.
“So I got fingered in an old maternity ward.”
“Basically.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of fucked up.” Annie looks down at her glass. “The nursery is still there too, but they barely use it anymore. Most of the bassinets have been moved into storage, and they don’t even keep the desk staffed overnight unless there’s actually a baby on the floor.”
The image lands harder than I expect.
A whole part of the hospital built around people having children, slowly being dismantled because there aren’t enough children to put in it.
“That’s bleak,” I say.
“Very.” Annie takes another drink, then turns back to me. “Anyway, you were saying something about his thumb?”
I snort despite myself. “It wasn’t just his thumb.”
Her eyes widen. “Continue immediately.”
I finish telling her everything. When I’m done, she sets her wine glass on the coffee table and turns fully toward me.
“You do realize you don’t actually have a crush on him, right?”
I pour more wine into my glass. Feels like I’m going to need it. “I think I might, actually.”
She shakes her head. “He gave you an orgasm, and he’s not terrible to look at. It’s not a crush. It’s just your brain short-circuiting.”
I take a sip and consider that. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never been great at separating sex from feelings, and I really don’t want to embarrass myself by falling for him or something.”
“First of all, it wasn’t sex. It was a medical treatment.”
I open my mouth to object, but she waves me off.
“I know, I know. Best orgasm of your life, blah blah blah. Still a medical treatment. And second, there’s a very simple solution to all of this.”
“And what’s that, oh wise one?”
She gives me a light shove, and I almost spill my drink.
“Just date someone else.”
I wake up the next morning feeling jittery. At first, I think it’s a hangover from last night’s wine. Then I wonder if the fever has returned. But nope. No hangover. No fever. It’s all nerves.
I’m scared to go into the office.
I consider calling in sick, but decide against it. It would only delay the inevitable. At some point, I’m going to have to face him again.
I get to work earlier than I usually do, just to make sure I don’t bump into a bunch of people in the lobby, or—god forbid—have to share an elevator with someone.
I do not want to talk about what happened yesterday, but since someone decided to call a goddamn ambulance, I’m assuming it’s going to be hard to avoid. I will, however, do my best.
The top floor is mostly empty when I arrive, which is a huge relief. I make it all the way to my desk without anyone stopping me, asking questions, or giving me that soft, pitying look people give you when they know something embarrassing happened but are pretending not to know.
Small miracles do happen.
I sit down at my desk and start going through emails. After about an hour, the elevator dings and people start trickling in. I pop in my earbuds and pretend to be very busy. Or, well, I don’t have to pretend really. I actually have a lot to do.
A few people glance my way, but no one says a word. It’s strange. I was expecting whispers, sympathetic smiles, and someone casually asking if I was “feeling better” while clearly digging for details. But nothing happens.
Then Martha from HR walks past my desk, stops, and offers me a quick smile.
“Good to see you back, Carly.”
“Thanks,” I say, bracing myself.
But she doesn’t ask anything else. She just continues walking.
Huh.
Mr. Bennett strolls in around nine. He’s in a tailored suit, freshly shaved, and just all-around perfect. My stomach does a little flip, and I have to remind myself of what Annie said yesterday: the feelings aren’t real. He’s just good-looking, that’s all.
“Good morning,” he says curtly as he passes my desk on his way to his office. He doesn’t wait for a response before closing the door behind him.
That was… very normal.
As if yesterday never happened. As if he didn’t carry me to an ambulance. As if he didn’t sit next to me in a hospital room and slide his hand into my panties under clinical fluorescent lighting.
All right. Cool.
After that, I don’t see him for the rest of the morning. He usually calls me in once or twice before noon, but not today. I’m relieved, but also a little concerned. What if he finds this situation so awkward that he fires me for it?
Speaking of firing, is he still angry about the press briefing?
I chew on a nail as I take a quick peek at the clock. It’s almost lunchtime. Should I try to talk to him? Clear the air?
I glance at the closed door.
Nah.
The cafeteria is bustling when I get there.
I tell myself I’m just going to buy a sandwich real quick, then I’ll go back to my desk.
Quick in, quick out. I don’t have to talk to anyone.
But just as I’m about to leave, a movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention.
It’s Josh. He’s sitting by himself, waving at me.
I wave back. He gestures for me to come sit.
I hesitate at first, but then the ghost of Annie whispers in my ear.
“Just date someone else.”
I make my way toward his table.
“Nice to see you up and walking again,” he says as I sit. “How are you?”
“I’m great! Wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Lies! All lies! I could be halfway to the morgue, and I’d still be expected to manage Mr. Bennett’s schedule.
“I’m glad to hear that.” A small wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. “So, what happened yesterday? It was quite dramatic.”
I cringe internally. That goddamn ambulance.
“It was nothing. Everyone overreacted. I had low blood sugar and fainted. That’s all.”
Josh looks relieved. “Oh, that’s great. We were all so worried. It looked really bad, you know—with the boss carrying you and the ambulance coming. It was like something out of a movie.”
I will find the caller. I will find them and make them regret ever pressing those three digits.
“Yeah, like I said, everyone overreacted. I’m fine, really.”
“That’s good,” Josh says. “I was going to ask yesterday, but then HR sent out that email.”
I pause, my sandwich halfway to my mouth. “What email?”
“You didn’t see it?” He leans back in his chair. “Something about respecting employee privacy after medical incidents. It was very serious and HR-y.”
So that’s why no one has said anything.
I take a bite out of my sandwich and make a face. It’s stale.
Josh chuckles. “Didn’t anyone tell you the sandwiches suck here?” He pushes his plate toward me. There’s a generous slice of pizza on it. The crust is slightly uneven, and the cheese has browned in some spots, but man, if it doesn’t make me salivate. “Take my last slice. I’m full anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
Please say yes.
He nudges the plate even closer. “It’s yours.”
I dive in. It’s cheesy. It’s gooey. It’s greasy. “It’s amazing. Where is this from?”
He blushes a little. “My oven. I made it last night.”
“Impressive.”
“Thanks,” he says, smiling. He clears his throat and continues. “I like cooking, and I think I’m pretty decent at it. If you want, I could show you sometime.”
I take another bite as I consider his proposition. He’s clearly asking me out on a date, which is kind of why I came over. I want this. I want to go on a date with him. So why am I hesitating?
“I’d like that.”
His face splits into a wide grin that crinkles his eyes. It’s a cute smile.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mr. Bennett smile properly. I’ve seen smirks and smug little grins, but never an open, happy smile. Does he have dimples? I bet he has dimples.
“Great. Are you free tomorrow? I can make us some lasagna.”
Focus.
“It’s a date.”
Mr. Bennett is avoiding me. He’s not physically hiding from me or anything like that, but he isn’t talking to me. That’s why this elevator ride is downright painful.
We’re heading to a meeting in the IT department. We stand in total silence, both watching the little red number go down. I am so aware of him it’s almost creepy. He flexes his hand, and I am instantly flooded with incredibly inappropriate mental images.
I take a deep breath and try to focus on literally anything else, but instead I fill my nostrils with his clean, manly scent.
Why does he have to smell so good?
I take a whiff. It’s loud.
Why the fuck did I do that?
Mr. Bennett turns his head and looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed. I scramble for something to say.
“I’m sorry. My nose is stuffy. I feel a bit under the weather.”
His eyes widen briefly.
“Not like that,” I say, panicked. “Just regular ol’ under the weather. Probably allergies. You know, pollen.”
In October.
The doors open, and we step out. “I promise it’s not the other thing. This is just a runny nose. I don’t feel feverish at all.” Why am I still talking?
He nods. I shut up.
We arrive at the conference room and take our seats at the table. I sit next to Mr. Bennett, where I know he prefers me to be. The IT guys start trickling in, and I spot Josh among them.
“Well, well. Carly. Fancy seeing you down here with us mortals.”
I smile at him. “I show my face in the cafeteria every now and then.”
“Doesn’t count. The cafeteria is neutral territory.”
“Enough chatter,” Mr. Bennett says from beside me. “This is a meeting, not a social call.”
Josh raises his eyebrows and looks at me.
I press my lips together and nod.
Yup. This is what he’s like all the time.
The meeting begins, and it’s dreadfully boring.
I keep an eye on the clock on the wall to make sure time is actually moving, because it doesn’t feel like it at all.
The IT guys are demonstrating new software they want the company to invest in.
Mr. Bennett thinks it’s a shit idea and shoots down everything they say.
You can see them deflate as the meeting progresses.
I don’t fully understand why he’s so against it, though. It does seem like something he’d be interested in. It offers stronger security and is slightly cheaper without affecting quality.
Maybe he just really, really hates learning new systems.
An hour later, the meeting ends. We stand to leave, and as I pass Josh, he reaches out and touches my arm. “Does seven work for you?”
I blink at him a few times, trying to figure out what he means.
“I’m cooking for you, remember?”
I put my hand to my forehead. “Right, sorry. I didn’t forget. I’m just—”
“A little under the weather,” Mr. Bennett fills in. He puts a hand on my back and nudges me forward. “We have to go back to our floor now.”
All right, damn.
“Seven’s great,” I shout over my shoulder as I’m forced out of the room.
I’m about to head home for the day when Mr. Bennett calls me into his office. I’m surprised, since he hasn’t wanted to speak to me face-to-face since the hospital.
I smooth my skirt and step inside.
He’s behind his desk, typing on his computer. The late-afternoon sun spills through the windows behind him, casting long shadows across the room.
He doesn’t look up.
“Sit down.”
Well, that’s ominous.
I lower myself into one of the chairs across from his desk, bracing for whatever fresh hell awaits me. He stops typing and turns his attention to me.
“We never finished discussing the last press briefing.”
I can’t help it. I grimace.
Let’s not.
“You were very ill,” he says. “It affected your performance.”
I blink.
“And I’ve decided to give you another chance.”
I can only stare at him.
Is he being… reasonable?
He leans back in his chair. “I’ve arranged a meeting tomorrow morning with a reporter I trust. I want you to go and clean up your mess.”
Tomorrow morning?
My brain immediately starts calculating. I have to do research, memorize background information, write talking points, practice questions, and strategize. It’ll take all evening.
I’ll have to cancel my date.
“Well?” He looks at me expectantly.
Sorry, Josh.
“I won’t let you down, sir.”