Chapter 9 #2
I paused before I added his office number beneath it.
Then I stared at the screen for a long second, my pulse ticking a little faster than usual.
I knew this was me poking the hornets’ nest, but you reap what you sow.
If his paper gowns were as good as he thought, he wouldn’t get any complaints. It was as simple as that.
The printer whirred to life after I’d hit the button, making quick work of printing the requested copies. I grabbed the stack while the paper was still warm and tucked them into my bag. I spent the rest of my shift sneakily putting them up where the old ones had been.
By the time I clocked out, I felt like I’d earned my mischief.
Numerous patients had complained to me about the gowns today, not just Mrs. Oyama.
Some had even threatened to leave if we didn’t return the other gowns, but of course, despite wanting to help them, we simply didn’t have any gowns to give.
I really had tried warning Sullivan, though.
While I was far from the longest serving employee in this hospital, I’d been around for enough years to know that comfort was absolutely vital in patient care—and that people who were already sick or hurting, and were paying a bundle for the treatment they were receiving, didn’t give a damn about corporate mumbo jumbo.
After a quick trip home to shower and change, I met Ellora and Mercedes at our usual restaurant, a place with low lighting, good music, and bartenders who didn’t judge us for ordering fries with our cocktails.
Ellora was already there, stirring her drink with a dreamy, faraway smile that told me she was thinking about her husband, and Mercedes slid into the booth only seconds after I did. Naturally, she took one look at me and knew I’d been up to something.
“You look smug,” she said, reaching for the pitcher of margaritas that Ellora must’ve ordered when she’d arrived. “What’s going on with you, Nurse Practitioner Bennett?”
“If I had a fry right now, I would throw it at you,” I joked. “First, don’t call me that. Second, I probably look smug because I feel it.”
Ellora snapped out of her Holden-induced daze and grinned at me. “Did you cause more drama at the hospital?”
“It’s not drama. It’s just the only way to fight back,” I said easily, pushing the empty glass in front of me toward Mercedes.
“Besides, it’s practically my job to do this.
I’m supposed to help patients, right? That’s what I get paid for, and right now, this is the best way to help them.
In addition to keeping them alive, of course. ”
“Of course.” Ellora cocked an eyebrow at me. “What did you do this time?”
“I might’ve told a patient to call dearest Sullivan Crowne directly to complain about the paper gowns.”
Mercedes choked on her first sip of her drink. “You did not.”
“I absolutely did.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s brilliant. If there’s anything those powerful CEO types hate, it’s having to deal with regular people. And the consequences of their own actions.”
I leaned in and glanced between the two of them. “I may have also posted his phone number in the event that other patients might feel the need to contact him about their complaints.”
They stared at me. Mercedes burst out laughing and lifted her glass. “To Bree.”
Ellora clinked with her. “The Patron Saint of Petty Justice.”
Finally, I lifted my glass to join the toast and sipped once our laughter had subsided. “For the record, I do know that it’s petty. I just feel like our new overlord deserves it. Honestly, whenever I start feeling guilty, I think about my patients’ faces and I just… stop.”
“That bad, huh?” Ellora’s features softened, and I had no doubt she was thinking about her mother and the measures we’d taken to keep her as comfortable as we could. “Actually, don’t even answer that. I can’t even imagine how bad it must be for some of them.”
“That patient I gave his number to first? She was so uncomfortable that I could hear it in her voice before I even went into her room. Another of my patients has just had major abdominal surgery. I don’t even want to think about how that must feel against the dressing over his wounds. It’s awful.”
Ellora made a soft noise of agreement while Mercedes winced. “Unfortunately, these business types who’ve done so well tend to get narrow-minded when it comes to achieving their goals.”
“What you mean to say is that they tend to forget they’re human,” Ellora suggested before looking back at me.
“They are, though. You know that, right? Deep, deep down inside, so deep that it’s often somewhere near their rectums, they are, in fact, human.
Just keep fighting, girl. Eventually, his humanity will surface. ”
“I don’t know,” I mused out loud. “You two know a thing or two about infuriating businessmen, but I don’t think Sullivan is like them. I think his inner robot killed his secret human self a long time ago.”
Mercedes chuckled. “Wow. You really don’t like this guy. I don’t think I’ve ever even heard about you putting so much as a toe out of line, now you’re fighting the system and doubting his humanity? I love it.”
I smiled, rocking my head from side to side before I finally shrugged. “Yeah, so do I. This just feels like a worthy cause, you know? It’s good to feel like I’m fighting for something that actually matters.”
We ordered another round, the conversation finally drifting away from my woes at the hospital to more familiar territory. Our families, their work, husbands, and the never-ending onslaught of administrative emails.
But eventually, the drinks loosened my tongue just enough to make me blatantly honest. “It’s just such a shame that Sullivan is such a jerk.”
Ellora’s lips curved slowly, her own eyes now glassier than usual and more than a little amused. “Why?”
“Because objectively, he’s hot. So freaking hot.”
There was just a single beat of silence before Mercedes burst out laughing. “Oh no.”
Ellora’s grin widened. “Don’t you dare leave us hanging like that. We want more. Say more, Bree.”
“I will not,” I said immediately. “That was a mistake.”
Mercedes wagged a finger in my direction. “You said it’s ‘such a shame.’ That implies regret.”
“The only thing it implies is aesthetics,” I argued. “You’ve seen him. In pictures, anyway, and those really don’t even do him justice. Seriously. He’s got these eyes, and a jawline, and he’s actually annoyingly smart.”
“Eyes, a jawline, and a brain, huh?” Ellora nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a dangerous combination.”
“Stop it, you know what I mean,” I moaned, lowering my forehead to my hand on the table. “It doesn’t even matter because I do not like him.”
“Mm-hmm.” Mercedes grinned. “That’s what I said about Kody.”
I lifted my head up immediately and pointed at her. “You hated Kody.”
“I actively loathed him,” she agreed, a knowing smile ghosting across her lips. “God, I hated him so much, I thought I might break out in hives whenever I saw him.”
“And yet,” Ellora said sweetly. “Here we are. Didn’t you also used to think that he was hot? Objectively, anyway. Because I swear I remember you admitting it. Eventually.”
Mercedes winked at her. “Oh, I knew he was hot. My blinding hatred didn’t actually blind me, and it’s an objective fact that my husband is incredibly, blazingly fucking hot. Just like Bree just pointed out about Sullivan.”
I groaned. “You two are not allowed to use your marriages as evidence.”
Ellora smiled. “Holden was rude.”
“Rude is generous,” Mercedes said. “He made you feel like you crawled out of a dumpster when your whole life was already on fire.”
“Exactly,” Ellora said. “He was so rude and he made me feel awful about myself, until he didn’t. Then he started making me feel—”
I shook my head and cut her off. “It’s not happening.”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me if Sullivan Crowne apologized—”
“He won’t.”
“What if he apologized and fixed the gowns?” Ellora asked, her eyes sparkling.
“He definitely won’t.” I sighed. “Will you two cut it out already?”
“What if he apologized, and fixed the gowns, and stopped acting like a corporate Bond villain?”
“Please stop,” I said.
Ellora laughed. “Relax. We’re only teasing.”
“I know, but seriously, even teasing me about it is a total waste of time. There’s no way I’m ever going to fall for an infuriating billionaire of my very own.”
Mercedes smirked. “You’re saying this to the wrong crowd, babe.”
I sighed, slumping back into the booth. “I just want him to stop making everyone miserable.”
Ellora reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re doing good work, Bree. The best you can. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”
I nodded, but doing my best wasn’t going to make Mrs. Oyama sleep any better tonight. I decided against telling them that, though. There was nothing any of us could do about it in this moment and they’d heard enough of my venting.
We ended up staying until the crowd at the restaurant thinned out, my cheeks hurting from laughing so much and the knot in my chest finally gone. As I walked home after, I thought about the flyers, the phone calls, and the ripple effect of small rebellions.
I wasn’t falling for Sullivan Crowne, but I was definitely not done with him.
Maybe Mrs. Oyama wasn’t sleeping comfortably tonight, but one day, in the not-so-distant future, my patients would sleep well again—no matter how many more small acts of pettiness I had to perform in order to make it happen.