Chapter 5 #2
“That was not what he was trying to make it look like. We are—were very casual.” I curled my fingers around my drink, let the glass cool my palm.
“Oh. Okay. So a cut-buddy type of thing.”
I shot him a look over the rim of my glass. “If the term ‘cut-buddy’ is what we call having our urges satisfied on a loose schedule?” I took a sip, the bite fizzling out at the edges. My face was in flames. “Yes. That.”
“Uh huh.” He nodded, slowly. I watched his tongue roll across his teeth under thick, juicy lips. “Forgot to set up your next sneaky link?”
“Cole. If you don’t…” I giggled, halfway embarrassed by his bare-bones assessment of my situation with Jeremiah.
Damn if the man wasn’t right, though. “I told him the day this case came in that my life was about to be very busy. And that I would let him know if I was interested in going out. It completely slipped my mind.”
I met his eyes. “Does that make me terrible?”
“Makes you human.” He took a long sip of his drink, then set his glass down. “Though, his understanding of the relationship does not match yours. That, or he was hoping it would be a friends-to-lovers type of situation.”
“Not me getting caught up in some fuck-buddy-to-bae thing. Isn’t that how it always is? One of them is pining, hanging in the cut, taking the scraps and hoping the other will catch feelings?”
“Well-versed in the tropes and matters of the heart,” Cole said, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Sounds like you have some experience.”
“A little,” I confirmed, thinking about the last man I’d hoped to be entangled with.
He played with my feelings, let me fall hard for him, led me to believe I was the one for him. Took me to meet this Mama. Then a week later, began to detach.
I heard rumors of him being seen around town with a tall, thick, gorgeous social media maven with great assets. When I confronted him, he said everything I’d thought I’d had was in my head. He hadn’t promised anything to me, so there was nothing to fulfill or feel bad about.
We’d had something, or so I thought. Then I learned we’d had nothing. Like I’d imagined the entire relationship.
“Let’s just say I’ve officially been on both sides of the equation” Eager to take the glare of the spotlight off of me, I asked, “How about you? We briefly discussed you not having anyone waiting for you at home.”
“Aye don’t take your frustrations out on me,” he shot back, a little grin poking at the edges of his mouth.
“I’m not. I’m just being nosy, now that you met my boy toy in the most awkward way possible.”
Cole laughed. “Fair enough. No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. Haven’t been for a while.”
“Why not? You seem like a decent catch. Handsome, educated, good job…”
“Work,” he replied, as I assumed he would. “It’s always work. Sixty, seventy-hour weeks don’t leave time for playing with dating apps or meeting people the old-fashioned way.”
“And when you do have time?”
He traced the rim of his glass with his index finger, contemplating.
“People love the idea of dating a doctor,” he said, “until they realize what it actually means. Missed calls when emergencies happen. Birthdays spent in the OR. Vacations cut short. Rescheduled dates. Never being able to guarantee you’ll be somewhere at a specific time. ”
Cole paused, taking another sip. “And that’s before you add being a Black professional in this field.”
“Stress on stress,” I agreed with a nod. “The hours alone would kill most relationships.”
“For sure. Then there’s the expectations. Everyone assumes you’re rich the moment you say surgeon, but they don’t see the student loans or the years of living on ramen during residency.”
Cole finished his bourbon with one last swallow, sliding the glass to the edge of the table. “Dating other doctors is its own special level of hell. Imagine two headstrong people, both trying to be the alpha, both of them always the smartest person in the room?”
He blew out a breath, puffing his cheeks. “I like a woman who challenges me, makes me see something in a different way. I just don’t want to be in competition all the time.”
I nodded, thinking of all the hospital romances I’d witnessed crash and burn. “If I’m being honest, though, I have to hope that saying can be true—if we want to, we will. Otherwise, it’d be like admitting there’s no one out there for you. Or me. And that just can’t be true.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” Cole said. Then he pointed, jabbing a finger in my face. “See? You’re good at this shit.”
I shrugged, taking the compliment. “So why trauma surgery?” I asked. “That’s got to be intense.”
“It is. But it’s also the clearest that medicine gets. Someone’s hurt, you fix them. It’s skill and brain power and speed and whether you’ve got what it takes to save a life. Right now.”
“And do you?”
“Most days?” He considered the question, bobbing his head side to side. “Yeah. Some days I am That Nigga. I can’t afford to think I’m not. Some days, it doesn’t matter how smart or skilled or fast you are.”
I heard what he wasn’t saying. The thing we were both dancing around, the investigation that trailed him like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
“Cole,” I leaned in, my tone barely above a whisper.
“Harper.” He matched my posture, his deep brown eyes focused on my face and nothing else.
“Why’d you meet me here?”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’ve been going home alone to an empty house and letting myself overthink. There is such a thing as too much alone time. Having an actual conversation with someone who gets it sounded good to me.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, you didn’t object when I suggested I join you. And you’re nice to talk to, after passing each other in the hallways at RMC. I wanted to know if the you I saw in the ICU was who you actually are or if that was variations on a performance.”
“What do you mean? Which me?”
“With the family and with Stephens. You switched up on him real fast. Got in his ass. He was not happy about it.”
I felt my lips quirk into a smile. “That’s an accurate summary of his feelings on our encounter. Ask me if I give a fuck. He needs to stop playing hero.”
“See?” He grinned. “That’s what I wanted to know—if you’re the same person in the waiting room and the parking garage and at this table.”
“I’m betting I’m not.”
“Hayull naw,” he drawled. “I like Rafferty’s Harper a lot. A lot a lot.”
I didn’t know what to do with that, so I drained the last of my drink.
“What about you?” Cole asked. “Why’d you invite me to join you?”
“Same reasons, I guess. I wanted to see if you were as…” I paused, mostly for drama.
“As…” His brows rose, curious.
“Competent off-script.”
“Competent.” He pretended to choke. “That’s how you describe me?”
“It’s a compliment, Dr. Vaughn.”
“Uh-huh. I’m about to go home and think of some bland, beige compliments for you. You’re efficient. Pleasant. What you say to that?”
“I say thank you, can I have another?”
The bartender bellowed last call from the bar. I glanced at my watch.
“Last call? It’s like…” Cole picked up his phone. “A quarter to ten?”
“Rafferty’s closes at ten,” I told him. “It’s truly a lounge for washed people.”
“A’ight,” he said, giving a signal to our waiter. “I’ll pick up the tab. It’s the competent thing to do.”
“Lord. Like competent isn’t the highest praise coming from hospital administration.”
The waiter dropped off the check. Cole slipped his credit card into the leather folio without glancing at the total.
“You know,” I said, watching him, “I wonder if we shouldn’t make a habit of this.”
“Of what? Having drinks?”
“At a bar. Just the two of us.” I gestured between us. “You’re part of an active investigation. I’m supposed to be impartial.”
Cole leaned back, studying me. “Is that the only reason?”
Nope, I thought. I was definitely going to go home, pull my vibrator out from my drawer, and stroke myself to a sweaty orgasm while replaying every second of this encounter.
I didn’t say that, though. And he didn’t press for an answer.
The waiter returned the folio. Cole slid his card back into his wallet, then stepped out of the booth. “I’ll walk you out.”
The parking lot was cold and mostly empty. We walked side by side, not talking, but it felt comfortable instead of awkward.
I unlocked the car, turning to say goodnight. Cole was closer than I expected. Not crowding, just…there.
“Whether or not we do this again—and I hope we do because those people don’t scare me—I’m glad you invited me out. I needed normal conversation with another human. I forget what that feels like.”
“Same.” I opened my car door, one foot inside. “And you’re right. We should definitely do this again.”
“I’d ask you to text me when you get home but…” He started to laugh.
“See, you don’t listen, Dr. Vaughn. You’re in my personal phone, not my work phone.”
“Then I’ll expect a text when you make it home.” He stepped back. “Drive safe, Harper.”
“You too, Cole.”
I watched him walk toward his car in my rearview mirror. He lifted a hand in a small wave before getting in.
The drive home was quiet, just the hum of the road and my thoughts. I’d enjoyed that, more than I’d expected to. Cole was easy to talk to, easier to laugh with. Thoughtful, deep, intellectual in a way that didn’t need to prove itself. Honest without oversharing.
And yes, fine. In a way I was trying hard not to overthink.
At home, I pulled out my phone and texted Cole the minute I crossed the threshold into my apartment. Then I put myself through my normal routine—keys in the bowl, bag on the chair, phone on the charger.
I headed to my bathroom, washed my makeup off, and pulled off my clothes, dumping my suit into a dry cleaning bag.
I checked my phone one more time before hopping in the shower.
Cole:
Thanks for letting me know you made it home.
Cole:
See you tomorrow. Sleep well, Harper.
I set the phone down and sighed. Here comes real life, encroaching on my fantasies of fucking that fine ass surgeon until I couldn’t see or walk straight.