Chapter 28
SULLIVAN
Ishould’ve known she would say no.
Again.
“You’re not even considering it,” I said, leaning against the edge of her kitchen counter while she flipped bacon in the pan.
“I have considered it,” she said calmly, not looking up from the hurried breakfast she’d decided to throw together before we left for work. “The answer is still no.”
“That wasn’t considering. That was an automatic refusal.”
She finally glanced at me, one eyebrow lifting in a way that made me feel twelve and reckless at the same time. “You asked me to go to dinner with you. In public. In this city. Where the hospital eats, drinks, and gossips.”
“I know some very discreet restaurants.”
“Sullivan.” She said my name like a warning, finally turning toward me once the bacon was cooked. “We cannot be seen together like that. It’s bad for you, it’s bad for me, and it’s bad for the hospital.”
“It’s just dinner.” I pushed off the counter, walking around it to slide my arms around her hips. “You make it sound like we’re committing a felony.”
“You’re Sullivan freaking Crowne,” she shot back. “If you so much as think about going to a restaurant, someone posts about it. Half the people in the hospital have got alerts set for when your name pops up. If they see me with you—”
“They won’t, and it’s not like I’m going to mount you at the table. Even if someone does see a picture of us eating together, that’s all it’ll be.”
“That won’t matter,” she said quietly.
I sighed, but I knew she was right. Besides, we’d agreed to keep it on the downlow. I just hadn’t realized that would mean never getting to take her anywhere at all.
It was one thing keeping my distance at the hospital, but despite how often I’d pestered her about letting me take her on a date, she kept refusing and it didn’t sit right. She was essentially my girlfriend and I couldn’t even eat with her unless it was at one of our apartments.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “What if it wasn’t here?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”
“What if I took you somewhere else?” I held her gaze, tightening my hold on her hips. “Somewhere nobody knows either of us. No hospital. No politics.”
“For how long?” she asked cautiously, staring up at me like she wasn’t sure a place like that even existed.
I made the decision on the spot. “A weekend.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. I have responsibilities. You have responsibilities. We can’t just disappear because you—”
“Because I want to take you somewhere I’m allowed to hold your hand in public?” I cut in. “That doesn’t seem ridiculous to me at all, and if we have to leave the city to do it, we might as well go for long enough to make it worth our while.”
She exhaled slowly, eyes moving from one of mine to the other. “Where would you even take me?”
I shrugged. “Just agree and I’ll handle the rest.”
“That is the vaguest and most suspicious pitch I’ve ever heard.”
“Is that a yes?”
She studied me for so long, I almost lost hope, but finally, she turned out of my grip and handed over a plate. “It’s a maybe. Now eat. If we don’t leave soon, we’re going to be late.”
I grinned, triumph coursing through me because a maybe was all I needed. I’d turn it into a yes. “Okay, then. Let’s eat. Be ready after your shift on Friday, okay? I’ll pick you up.”
She sighed. “I still think it’s crazy to go away for a whole weekend just so we can have dinner together.”
“We could always make it a week,” I said, not even really joking, but she laughed anyway.
We raced through breakfast together. Then I went back to my place to shower and change while she headed straight for the hospital. Over the next few days, I worked on turning that maybe into a yes while at the same time making the arrangements.
By Thursday night, I had it all worked out. Grinning, I took a sip of my scotch and sent her a quick text.
Me: Pack for warm weather.
Bree: That is not information.
Me: It is if you trust me.
Bree: Sullivan.
Me: All you need is comfortable clothes, a swimsuit, and your passport.
Bree: My passport??
Me: Weekend trip, remember?
Bree: A passport, though?? You’re insane.
Me: Is that a no?
Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared again. It took a few minutes longer than I would’ve hoped for her response to come through, but finally, my phone chimed and relief sped through me.
Bree: What time are you picking me up?
Me: 6 p.m. I’ll be outside staff parking.
Bree: If this ends with me arrested or stranded somewhere, I will haunt you.
Me: It’s worth the risk.
By six o’clock on Friday evening, I was parked on the opposite side of the street from the staff lot with my engine idling, watching the hospital exit like a hawk.
She’d been nervous about me picking her up from here, but there was so much activity at this time of day between shift changes and patient visiting hours that no one had even glanced in my direction.
At exactly seven minutes past six, she walked out with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Shrugging into a light jacket, she spotted my car and shook her head, but she still smiled as she approached.
“We’re really doing this,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat.
“Of course, we are,” I countered. “Especially now that I know you’re actually coming. The suspense was killing me.”
“I haven’t decided if this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me or a catastrophic lapse in judgment.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
She laughed under her breath, buckling her seatbelt as she settled back in her seat. “Maybe not, but I felt like a fugitive trying to leave the hospital without being seen.”
“Even if someone did see you getting into my car, there’s no way they saw me.” I pulled into traffic, feeling her glancing at me every few seconds like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “The windows, Bree. They’re tinted. No one saw us together. You can relax.”
“You’re very calm,” she said after exhaling a deep, long breath. “How is it possible that you’re so completely calm?”
I shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I be? You’re here. I’m here. We’re about to spend the entire weekend together far away from prying eyes.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think I’m just still trying to process all of that.” She turned toward the window, just watching the city slide by like she was trying to make sure we’d really made a clean getaway.
Twenty minutes later, however, as the skyline thinned and the road angled toward the outskirts, she frowned. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“I’m pretty sure that sentence has been used in every true crime documentary ever made.”
“Just trust me, okay? You’re going to love this.” I smiled and kept driving, not giving her any hints at all despite how many times she asked.
When the road curved toward the private airstrip, she straightened in her seat and immediately caught on. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No, absolutely not. You did not—”
She cut herself off when I stopped next to security and rolled down my window. The guard waved us through without hesitation and she gawked at me. Her mouth fell open as the hangars came into view.
“That is not our plane,” she said firmly as I parked beside a sleek white jet.
I switched off the engine and turned toward her, unable to stop the smirk ghosting across my lips. “It is.”
She stared at me like she’d never met me before. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“You own a plane?”
“I prefer the term have access to.” I grinned. “On a permanent, uninterrupted basis.”
“You own a plane,” she repeated faintly, her head shaking over and over again. “This is…”
When she trailed off, I chuckled and opened my door. “Come on. The Bahamas are waiting.”
“The…” She trailed off again, blinking hard, fast, and way too many times. “What?”
“The Bahamas. You’ve heard of the place, right?” I climbed out and shut my door, walking around the car to open hers and extending my hand toward her. “Are you coming?”
She didn’t move at first, just sat there blinking at the aircraft like it might vanish if she stared hard enough. Finally, she looked back up at me and slid her hand into mine. “It’s official. You really are crazy. We can’t go to the freaking Bahamas for a weekend.”
“Why not?” I asked as we walked toward the boarding stairs. “Google the flight time. We’ll be there before their dinner service even ends.”
She stopped halfway, already pulling out her phone. Her thumbs moved quickly, her eyes scanning the screen.
“Three hours?” she said, incredulous. “It only takes three hours?”
“Give or take.”
“That’s also insane. Just like you.”
“Do you still want to haunt me?”
She looked up at me then, something bright and reckless sparking behind her caution. “No. I think I’d rather just accept that you’re crazy and enjoy the ride you’re taking me on.”
“That’s all I ask.” I gestured toward the stairs. “After you.”
She climbed them first, pausing at the doorway and running her hand along the polished interior like she was testing whether the plane was real.
I followed, and the door sealed behind us with a solid, final click.
Minutes later, we were strapped in as the engines spooled up, the cabin vibrating with raw power.
She gripped the armrests as the plane began to taxi, her eyes flicking to mine. She let out a half-laugh, half-breathless sigh. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“Believe it, Bree.” As the jet surged forward, city lights blurring beneath us before dropping away entirely, she turned toward the window, watching New York shrink into scattered constellations below. Then she reached across the space between us and took my hand.
It turned out that she was exceptionally good at adjusting. No matter how shocked she’d been about the plane or the Bahamas, or how apprehensive she’d been about this weekend to begin with, she relaxed almost instantly after the driver dropped us off at the resort we would be staying at.