Chapter 39
brEE
My hands trembled where I stood in front of my closet. Honestly, I’d faced down cardiac arrests with more confidence than I currently felt.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, staring at the row of dresses like they might collectively offer advice. “It’s dinner. You have dinner every day. Food goes in your mouth. You swallow. You do not die.”
My reflection in the mirror inside my closet door did not look convinced. I tugged one dress off the hanger, held it up, then tossed it onto the bed with the other rejected options.
Too formal. Too casual. Too try-hard. Not trying hard enough.
I scrubbed my face with both hands and groaned. I can intubate a coding patient, but apparently, I can’t survive choosing an outfit for a dinner date with my boyfriend.
Even just that word still felt new and fragile, but also electric. Every time I either said or thought it, a thrill passed straight through me.
Only a few days ago, it had felt impossible that we would ever get to this point, but somehow, we’d made it.
Actually, not somehow. We’d made it because Sullivan had proven to me, once for all, who he really was. And now, my brand-new, official boyfriend was finally taking me out to dinner in the city where we both lived. At this rate, I’d be going naked, though.
“Ridiculous,” I repeated quietly. “Absolutely fucking absurd. Just choose, Bree. Come on. It’s not that hard.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting my thoughts. I swiped it up, my heart fluttering a little at the message on my screen. It was my group chat with the girls, another text immediately followed the first.
Ellora: If he gives you a diamond tonight, I want pics.
Mercedes: Also has he bought furniture yet or is he still living like a rich cave troll?
Me: You’re both terrible and also not helping.
Ellora: We help through emotional support and active curiosity.
Mercedes: And wine. Mostly wine.
I rolled my eyes, but warmth spread through my chest. A few weeks ago, they’d been helping me trash talk the man. Now they were so fully invested in my romantic future with him that they were treating it like it was a TV show.
My phone buzzed again. I expected it to be another message from the girls, but when I glanced back down at it, my stomach flipped.
Sullivan Crowne: I’m outside.
I stared at the message for a full three seconds, a smile already spreading on my lips. He’s early.
My heart did that ridiculous melty thing it’d started doing around him and I grabbed the navy wrap dress I settled on in that very moment. It was elegant, but not over-the-top. I slipped into my heels before I could talk myself out of the choice.
Me: On my way.
One last glance in the mirror, a quick swipe of lipstick, and I was out the door with my heart going wild and butterflies doing crazy loop-de-loops in my stomach.
When I emerged from my building, Sullivan was leaning casually against his car like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread that specialized in devastatingly handsome billionaires trying to look approachable.
His suit was as impeccable as always, but the tie was gone. The top button of his shirt was undone, and it softened the sharp corporate edges of his daytime persona. He straightened when he saw me, his expression shifting into something openly appreciative that made heat crawl up my neck.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I answered, suddenly very aware of my own heartbeat.
He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that was possessive enough that it made me feel wanted. Needed, even. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You could have worn a tie, though.”
He looked shocked for a second, then started laughing when he realized I was joking. His mouth curved into a genuine, joyful smile. “Are you ready for our first HR-compliant date?”
I laughed. The nerves that had been wreaking havoc on my insides all day eased instantly. “I still can’t believe we had to sign relationship disclosure forms like we were filing taxes.”
“Romance isn’t dead,” he said solemnly. “It’s just legally documented.”
The restaurant he’d chosen sat tucked between two boutiques. As we approached, warm light spilled onto the sidewalk from tall windows. It was upscale but not intimidatingly so, with white tablecloths, soft jazz humming through the room, and the faint scents of garlic and butter floating in the air.
“This is perfect,” I said as a hostess held the door open for us.
He shot me a glance that was undeniably relieved. “My first choice came with six forks and required a jacket for the bread course.”
“No, thank you.” I grinned. “I would’ve been fine with fast food on a park bench too. Just for the record.”
Before he could respond, the hostess appeared and led us to a small table near the window. Sullivan pulled out my chair and I sat, smoothing my dress. He took the seat across from me.
The menus were leather-bound and heavy. I opened mine and immediately spotted several items written in a language I was reasonably sure was French.
“Oh good,” I said lightly. “Half of this looks like I might accidentally order a decorative centerpiece.”
He leaned forward slightly, smiling. “I’ll translate if you need to me to.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You speak French?”
“No, but I speak expensive restaurant fluently,” he joked. “It’s very useful in negotiations.”
The tension inside loosened another notch as the candlelight flickered between us. His gaze softened, lingering on my face in a way that made my pulse trip again. “Can I just address the elephant in the room?”
“What elephant?”
“It’s fucking amazing to finally be able to have dinner with you like this. Just down the road from the hospital instead of a three-hour flight away.”
I chuckled. “You’re not wrong, but that was also an incredible weekend.”
“One I plan on repeating very, very soon.” He winked.
A waiter appeared, taking our drink orders, and once he left, a comfortable silence settled between us.
Sullivan reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine in a small, almost absent gesture that sent warmth skating up my arm. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
I curled my fingers around his and squeezed. “Yeah, me too.”
A slight smirk ghosted across his features. “I’m thinking Fiji next. I know you loved the food in the Bahamas, but I hear Fiji is lovely this time of year.”
I groaned. “I’m pretty sure Fiji is lovely every time of year, but you just took a massive pay cut, remember?”
He shrugged, his eyes sparkling as he smiled at me. “Okay, so we’ll fly commercial. It’s not the end of the world.” His smile widened. “I’m kidding of course. Can you imagine?”
I laughed and shook my head. “I would argue but I suspect the flight to Fiji would be a lot nicer on a private plane, considering how long the trip is.”
It was nice to sit there with him in public, just two ordinary people having dinner together. Our relationship didn’t feel fragile or doomed anymore. Planning a trip didn’t feel foolish or like just a daydream.
It felt like the beginning of something that might actually last. Like maybe soon, dinners and trips wouldn’t be the only things we were planning anymore. Another little thrill shot through me.
“So, Fiji, huh?” I smiled even as my head shook. “Tell me more.”
Our waiter came back with our wine, and it was excellent. The food was even better, but the best part was Sullivan sitting across from me, his smile coming so much easier now that it was like the weight of the world wasn’t balanced permanently on his shoulders anymore.
After we finished our entrees, I swirled the wine in my glass, peering at him over the rim. “You’re suspiciously relaxed tonight.”
His dark blond, sandy eyebrows lifted. “Why is it suspicious?”
“You haven’t brought up work once. You’re not checking emails. You haven’t taken a single call from anyone. I’m starting to wonder if you’ve been replaced by a body double.”
“I fired the tyrant who lived rent-free inside me,” he said. “He had terrible people skills.”
I laughed, warmth spreading through my chest. “Good. He was the worst.”
He gave me a look so focused and attentive that it made my pulse skip. “You seem lighter too.”
“I am,” I admitted. “It turns out not having to pretend I can barely tolerate my boyfriend is freeing.”
“I’m very grateful you tolerate me publicly now.”
“I do more than just tolerate you,” I said, nudging his foot under the table. “I love you, Sullivan Crowne.”
His smile deepened. “I still can’t actually believe that’s true.”
“Well, you better believe it, because you’re stuck with me now.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I’ve never been happier.”
My heart skipped a few beats. Our conversation drifted easily from there. We hopped from favorite vacation disasters to childhood stories. For once, there was no hospital between us, no policy debates, and no budgetary secrets lurking behind every sentence.
For the first time since the Bahamas, we could just be us and it was amazing. Halfway through dessert, however, nerves flared suddenly in my stomach again when I remembered I was supposed to ask him something tonight.
I set my fork down, watching him sip his coffee. “So, uh, I have a hypothetical question for you.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Those are usually dangerous.”
“How would you feel about meeting my parents?”
He choked on his coffee. “What?”
I laughed as he coughed into his napkin, his eyes watering. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he rasped, clearing his throat. “Just inhaled wrong.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am not terrified,” he said immediately.
“You’re totally terrified.”
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his posture suddenly stiff. “Okay, so maybe I’ve negotiated multimillion-dollar deals with less anxiety than I’m currently experiencing, but that doesn’t mean I’m terrified.”
I chuckled, my head shaking. “You’ve never met a girlfriend’s parents before?”
“No.” The admission came out gruff but honest.
“They don’t bite,” I promised.
“They’re going to hate me.”
“They won’t.”
“They absolutely will. I’m the guy who made their little girl cry.”
“That only happened once.” I reached across the table and slid my hand over his. “Either way, my parents will see what I see.”
He studied our joined hands like he was committing the moment to memory. “What do you see?”
I squeezed gently. “A man who tries. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. A man who does his best, who learns, and who make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Something vulnerable flickered across his face, gone almost as quickly as it’d appeared. He turned his hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I would like to meet them.”
Relief and happiness clashed inside my chest, and I grinned. “That’s great. Because I already told them we’d come to dinner next week. They’ve been begging me to meet you.”
His eyes widened, but he nodded. Neither of us were eager to break the spell of our first public dinner, but eventually we got up to leave. His hand found the small of my back when he guided me toward the car, the touch possessive and gentle all at once.
Back at his penthouse, the moment the door closed behind us, the distance we’d maintained all evening snapped like a thread pulled too tight. He kissed me like he’d been holding it in for too long. Like he still couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to.
I laughed softly against his mouth, but the sound dissolved into a breathless gasp when he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bedroom without breaking contact. Every touch felt urgent but loving, like he was memorizing me all over again and couldn’t wait to get inside me at the same time.
As we undressed each other, there was whispered laughter, followed by hot kisses that lit a fire in me he was only too eager to feed.
We made love, neither one of us holding back.
Hours later, lulled by the slow rhythm of his breathing against my chest, I drifted into sleep with my fingers curled loosely around his hip.
In the morning, sunlight filtered through the hospital windows when I arrived for my shift. I adjusted my badge as I stepped off the elevator, bracing automatically for the strange new normal of being openly together.
He stood halfway down the corridor, talking to one of the department heads with his sleeves rolled up and his tablet tucked under his arm. He’d been doing this a lot recently, getting out of his office and trying to be more present on the floor.
He glanced up mid-sentence, and the moment he saw me, his expression shifted, professional focus melting into warmth. For a heartbeat, old instincts whispered at me to keep walking and maintain our distance, but instead, I smiled and walked straight to him.
He paused when he realized I was coming over, giving the guy he was talking to a quick grin. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
The man nodded, watching curiously as I reached them. I slipped my arms around Sullivan in the middle of the hallway, not even minding that the department head was right next to us.
“Good morning,” I murmured against his chest. “I missed you earlier.”
“A very good morning, apparently,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “I’m sorry I had to head out so early. I wasn’t sure where you stood about coming in together and I had an early meeting anyway.”
I felt eyes on us, curious, amused, and maybe even approving, but for the first time, I didn’t care. They knew now. Everyone knew, and although they were still staring and didn’t quite know what to make of it, I honestly didn’t give a damn.
The only thing I cared about was the way his hand settled comfortably at my waist like it belonged there. What we had was real, and if anyone had a problem with that, then it was their issue to deal with.
Every day, I helped heal people, and now it was my turn to heal my own heart. Sullivan was the key to that, and together, we could handle anything.