Until We Touch (Until #4)

ONE

EMMA

“Look at it this way, Em: you can tick off an item on your bucket list.”

At my best friend’s words, I lift my gaze from my coffee mug. “Yes?” I motion for him to go on when he doesn’t.

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “The walk of shame.”

With a groan, I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling. “Thanks for reminding me, Rob. I had almost forgotten about the worst morning-after of my life.” I meet his gaze and narrow my eyes at his lingering smirk. “To make it even more special, it was the pantiless walk of shame . How’s that?”

Rob cracks up. “There you go. That’s the spirit. I can’t get over the fact you lost your panties in his hotel room.” He rises from the chair at his kitchen table, where we enjoy a hangover breakfast.

Okay, I’m the one with the hangover while he’s as chirpy as usual. Yesterday, we attended our colleague’s wedding at a fancy hotel in Midtown Manhattan. After midnight, some weird urge made me check out the roof terrace, and on my way, I met a handsome stranger in the elevator. Looks were exchanged, and he didn’t lose time inviting me to a vodka martini at the rooftop bar. One drink led to another—in his hotel room.

And more drinks led to sex. Lots of hot and sweaty sex .

I run my hand over my face, grumbling. “I was occupied with other … things.” With my eyes squeezed shut, the memories of last night wash over me. I must have lost my panties when he first smiled, melting them off right away. At least this drunken mistake was hot. The mental images of how I ran my tongue over his chest, his abs, down to his huge—

“Too bad he was a douche,” Rob interrupts my reminiscing, which I welcome. No need to dwell on things. No matter the size.

“You can say that again. When it comes to men, I never made the best choices, but this just fucking takes the cake.” I let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t expect him to dismiss me right after waking up. ‘ I’m gonna take a shower now ,’” I mock, repeating the guy’s words from this morning. “‘ You know your way out? ’ He called me Emily,” I add, huffing.

Rob chuckles, placing a plate in front of me. “You didn’t remember his name either or where he was from. Now, eat your omelet. Perfect hangover breakfast.”

I grumble. “His name was Dylan, and he’s from Boston. No, wait. Washington.” I grab my fork and stuff the eggs into my mouth. My taste buds cheer at the first savory bite, and I close my eyes with an appreciative moan. “Delicious. Thanks, Rob.” I meet his gaze. “And thank you for picking me up this morning. I’m so glad you made it back to the hotel in no time after I sent you my get-me-out-of-here text.”

Rob grabs another plate with his share of the omelet and joins me at the table. “I didn’t make it back to the hotel,” he says. “I was still there.”

My wide eyes shoot to him, and I almost choke on my breakfast. “Excuse me?” I ask in between coughs .

He shifts in his seat. “You remember the blonde I was talking to yesterday? Abby’s cousin?”

Abby is the colleague whose wedding we attended, and I distinctly remember her cousin—a sweet, blonde girl with the prettiest smile. “Yeah?” Again, I motion for him to go on.

“It went well,” he continues with a half-smile. “When you texted, I was about to leave her hotel room.”

I gape at him. “You stayed in her room? Are you telling me you, Robert Jenkins, had a one-night stand? You? The epitome of sweet guy and commitment?”

He chuckles. “Are you the only one who’s allowed to have one-night stands? And who said it was only one night? I intend to see her again because I enjoyed the sex, unlike you, judging from your story.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back in my chair and shoot him a glare. “The sex was great. Not my fault he turned into an asshat as soon as the sun came up.” I let out another long, frustrated sigh. “Why do I only attract jerks?”

“I don’t know, Em. Maybe it had something to do with your little red cocktail dress and the black heels. You were dressed to the nines with your honey-blonde hair in that complicated-looking, braided updo and the smokey eyes; no wonder he couldn’t resist you. But you seemed pretty excited, too, when you texted me before following him to his room.”

I furrow my brows. “I didn’t text you.”

Rob grabs his phone, and after swiping up and down, he holds it out to me. Indeed, I texted him .

Emma: Don’t wait for me, Robbie. I’m gonna have mind-blowing sex with Mr. Sexy-Ass from the rooftop bar.

I grimace. “Ugh, why didn’t you save me?”

“Would you have listened?”

“Probably not.” Closing my eyes, I rub my temples. My head feels like a brick wall collapsed onto me. The painkillers I swallowed before taking a scalding hot shower to wash off last night’s events don’t live up to their name yet. At least my best friend offered to go to his place—things are only half as bad in his luxurious bathroom.

As every time I’m nursing a hangover—which happens once or twice a year—I berate myself for having a few drinks too many; I’m too much of a lightweight. Damn those vodka martinis. They were my downfall, making me jump into bed with a complete moron. Unbelievable. How could I have been so stupid and blinded by the idiot’s flashy smile? The worst part was when he explained how he wasn’t planning to pursue this further, even though I gave amazing blowjobs.

I shudder at the memory. My only explanation is that I hadn’t had sex in over six months, so I was starved for physical contact. The asshat offered it and took a part of my dignity in return.

My insides churn when I think about how good he made me feel last night and how he was a total jerk this morning. No, I won’t do something this stupid ever again. Next time I have sex, it’ll be in a serious and loving relationship. No matter how long I’ll have to wait for it .

After another sip of coffee, it’s time to discuss the surprise of the century. “So after I sent you that text, you picked up Abby’s cousin?”

Rob shrugs. “The tension between us was building up throughout the day, and as I didn’t want to abandon you, I jumped at the chance to stay too.”

“So you jumped her to do me a favor?”

“Yes.” His lips stretch into a wide grin, and I roll my eyes at him. “Hey,” he says, “don’t be upset that last night didn’t end well. You could have had me, but you turned me down.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “And you know why. We work together, and I’d never hear the end of it if I dated Dr. Hottie.”

He guffaws. “No one calls me that.”

“Of course. All the nurses do.”

He narrows his eyes at me as if trying to determine whether I was making this up.

Please meet Dr. Robert Jenkins, an ob-gyn at the hospital where I work as an ER nurse. He’s on everybody’s list of doctors you want to spend a night with. Not necessarily at the top of those lists, but a very close second to third, and he’s utterly oblivious to his status, probably because of his nerdiness. He’s not sexy in an obvious way with hard-as-steel abs and cocky confidence, but his beautiful green eyes light up when he flashes anyone his gorgeous smile.

Sadly, it’s not working on me. He’d be the perfect guy for an easygoing, no-drama relationship. He’s every mother-in-law’s dream, too, including my mother’s. She loves him and can’t understand for the life of her why I don’t .

I tried. We met through my brother about three and a half years ago. Rob worked at a hospital in Baltimore, where my brother attended medical school. When Rob moved to New York one year later, we went on a few dates, and we quickly realized we work better as friends, and although Rob still jokes about me turning him down, I know he feels the same way.

“Are you telling me I could have any of the nurses?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Even Tamara?”

“No, not Tamara.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a bitch who sleeps around. She’ll break your heart.”

He places his palm on his chest and tilts his head with a stupid smile. “Aw, how kind of you to look out for me after you’ve broken my heart.”

I throw my napkin at him when he chuckles. “Shut up. I did not break your heart. And what about Abby’s cousin? I thought you were dating her now?”

“She’s from Maine, so I don’t assume I’ll see her too often. Just checking my options.”

I squint at him. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my friend?”

“I need to think about my future. I’m getting old.”

With a huff, I roll my eyes. “Thirty-four is not old. If someone needs to worry, it’s me. I’m almost thirty, and my mom gives me hell about finally settling down.”

Rob cackles. “Yeah, your mom is a piece of work. I’d be worried, too, if I were you. ”

“Gee, thanks.” I kick his shin, but he laughs it off. Before I can kick him a little harder, my phone buzzes next to my plate. Squeezing my eyes shut, not daring to look at the screen, I groan. “Gosh, I hope this isn’t work calling me in. I wouldn’t be able to function today.” Once I check the caller ID, a deep frown forms on my forehead. “Speak of the devil.”

Rob leans over. “Oh dear.” He clamps his lips together, swallowing his laughter. “Are you gonna answer?”

I tap my fingers on the tabletop, cursing my mother’s lousy timing. With a loud exhale, I flip my phone over and let the call go to voicemail. “No. I’ve had enough of my mom and her talks for this year.”

Rob raises a single eyebrow. “It’s only January.”

“I’ve had enough of her since forever.”

He pats my forearm, giving me an understanding smile. He’s been in my life long enough to understand the issues I have with my mother, and he’s always supported me whenever I had to deal with her drama, and drama is her middle name. “How about you have another coffee before we move to the comfy couch and watch a movie?”

I respond with a grateful smile. Yes, drinking a freshly brewed coffee from his fancy, fully automatic coffee maker and watching a good movie to silence my mom’s nagging voice in my head sounds like pure bliss.