Chapter 13 #3
“Yeah,” I echoed, and felt the word as a physical relief in my chest. “And at least now we have a plan.” I squeezed her hand, which was already resting in mine, our fingers locked.
“I’ll send him everything today. The sooner he can review it all, the better.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For doing this. For putting all that together. And standing up to Dr. Rice and…last night. I mean the documents. Not the food. Or the wine. Or the sex…”
I was rambling and she was laughing at me, her whole body shaking with it.
“You’re welcome for all of it,” she said, pressing a kiss to my chest. “The documents, the food, the wine, and especially the sex.”
“How about for, like…past the sex?” I asked.
“Like what do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head to look at me properly.
“I mean what I said. Past the sex. Friendship and dating and…learning about each other. Exclusively.”
I trailed off, realizing I was venturing into territory we hadn’t really mapped out yet. I didn’t want to go too deep without knowing if she was ready to swim there with me.
“We can talk about that.” She stood, pulling her robe open again and doing a little shimmy for my benefit, then turned toward the bathroom. “Come on, Dr. Vaughn,” she called over her shoulder. “Help me conserve some water.”
Deflection. She wasn’t ready. And that was fine. For now.
There was an intimacy between us already that was more than sex.
A personal relationship that superseded professional respect.
The care we took with each other both on and off the clock had to be jarring for someone like Harper.
She was risking so much to help me. And I could tell she was fighting against what her heart wanted.
We stepped into the shower together. The water ran hot, steam filling the spacious bathroom. Harper pressed her forehead against my chest while I worked conditioner through her hair and massaged her scalp.
“You’re good at this,” she murmured.
“These surgeon’s hands are multi-talented.”
When we got out, I wrapped her in a bath sheet, taking every opportunity to drop kisses on her skin.
I lounged on the bed while she worked three assorted products through her curls before covering them with a silk bonnet.
She let me slather her body in shea butter before pulling on a long t-shirt and leggings, then she tossed a bottle of lotion at me and went to retrieve the clothes I’d worn the night before from the dryer so I could get dressed.
After breakfast, Harper checked her email once, made a face, and set her phone on the charger on the counter. “Rowan sent me four messages. I’m ignoring all of them.”
“What’d she say?”
“They. Rowan is non-binary. The first text was that they hoped I was feeling okay. Then the messages got progressively nosier. I almost never take time off, so this is odd behavior for me. The last message is a gif of Kermit the Frog drinking tea.”
I laughed. “They know you well.”
“Too well.”
We left the dishes in the sink and migrated to the living room. Harper turned on a movie, then pulled out her laptop.
“I need to get this stuff to Vincent,” she said, settling cross-legged on the couch. “Shouldn’t take long.”
I watched her work out of the corner of my eye, amused at the way she bit the inside of her cheek when she was reading something closely, how she’d pull up a document, scan it, mark it off on her little makeshift checklist and move on to the next document.
Organized. Methodical. Thorough. I was lucky to have her.
“You need help?” I asked at one point.
“No, I’ve got it. This is just tedious, and easier if I do it myself.”
I pulled out my phone and tried to distract myself.
Scrolled through news articles. Checked my email—three messages from the hospital I didn’t open.
Talia had texted, asking if I was alive.
She’d called the other night but I’d been with Harper.
I sent back a thumbs up and a promise to call her later.
Then I made the mistake of googling medical malpractice lawsuit. Big mistake. I locked my phone and set it face-down on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry. Are you bored?” Harper asked without looking up.
“Nah. I’m good. Just need to stay off the internet.”
“You’re not googling shit about lawsuits, are you?”
“…no.”
“Cole.” She finally looked at me. “Stop. You’re going to spiral.”
“I’m not spiraling.”
“Seems like you’re spiraling,” she said in a sing-song voice. She closed her laptop and shifted to face me. “What’d you read?”
“Nothing. Just a lot of doctors get screwed even when they didn’t do anything wrong.”
“True. But you have a good attorney. And you have me, and I’m—what did you call me? A dog with a bone about this shit?”
She reached for my hand. “We’re ahead of this. Most people aren’t.”
I squeezed her hand. “I know. Thanks.”
She studied my face for another moment, then nodded and went back to her laptop. Twenty minutes later, she sent the final email and slammed the lid shut.
“Done. Vincent Cross now has everything he could need to defend you. More than he needs, but I didn’t want to take chances.” She stretched, arching her back. “Now I’m starving again. You hungry?”
“I’m a six foot two Black man. I can always eat. What do you feel like?”
We ordered too much Thai food and ate straight from the containers while half-watching a movie neither of us would be able to name later. Harper kept stealing bites of my curry even though she’d ordered her own dish.
“Hey! Thief!”
“Food tastes better when it’s not mine.”
“Got FOMO, huh? You should have ordered the curry.” I shooed her fork away, frowning. “Get out my plate, woman!”
Later, after the food was gone and the sun had set and the movie had ended, Harper shifted to lay her head in my lap. She’d taken off the bonnet to let her hair air dry. I played with the soft curls that were still a little damp and enjoyed the view of the city winding down beyond her window.
“Today was so nice,” she said.
I hummed my agreement. “Necessary, as a wise woman once said.”
“We should play hooky more often.”
I chuckled, thinking I might have all the time in the world soon.
Harper was quiet for a moment. I knew what she was going to say before she said it. “I don’t want tomorrow to come.”
I felt that. Tomorrow meant going back to the hospital, back to the investigation, back to pretending we weren’t doing…this.
“Me either,” I said. “But we gotta. Face forward, code switch on.”