Another shift at St. Caroline's. Another day of pretending everything was normal while my life quietly imploded in every direction.
From the moment I arrived, Xavier was attentive in ways that felt deliberate. Coffee appeared at my station without being asked—my exact order, still steaming.
He found excuses to consult on cases together, hovering at my shoulder while we reviewed charts, his hand brushing my arm when no one was looking. Small touches, meaningful glances, the careful architecture of someone mounting a campaign.
Part of me resented the manipulation. Recognized it for what it was—an attempt to remind me of everything we'd had before the lies shattered it. To rewrite history through accumulated kindness, burying the betrayal under enough small gestures that I might eventually forget to be angry.
Another part, the traitorous part, responded to it anyway. Leaned into the attention despite knowing better. Felt the familiar warmth spreading through my chest when he smiled at me across the nurses' station.
Six months of conditioning didn't disappear overnight. Neither did the loneliness.
Midday, a courier appeared with a delivery that stopped conversation across the entire floor.
The bouquet was absurd—roses and peonies and something exotic I couldn't identify, arranged with the kind of aggressive abundance that screamed
"I have money and feelings and I'm not afraid to use both." My name was printed on the card in elegant calligraphy that probably cost extra.
"Well, well." Priya materialized at my elbow, eyebrow raised to her hairline. "Someone's feeling romantic. Should I start planning your wedding registry, or is this an apology bouquet?"
"I don't know what this is." I took the arrangement from the courier, its weight surprising in my arms. "Nobody said anything about flowers."
The card was tucked among the blooms. I pulled it free and unfolded the note inside, recognizing Jay's handwriting immediately—bold, a little messy, utterly him.
I can't stop thinking about you. About the way you taste, about the sounds you made in the park when I kissed that spot below your ear, about all the things I want to do the next time I get you alone. Soon, I hope. I'm going crazy without you.
—J
Heat crawled up my neck, flooding my cheeks with color I couldn't hide. The words were intimate, suggestive, completely inappropriate for workplace reading. I stuffed the note into my pocket with movements that were definitely too quick to be casual.
"That good, huh?" Priya's grin had gone knowing. "Your entire face just turned the same color as those roses. Care to share with the class?"
"Absolutely not." I shoved the bouquet toward her. "Can you put these somewhere? I need to check on a patient."
I fled before she could ask more questions, my heart pounding with a mixture of embarrassment and something warmer.
Jay's words echoed in my mind as I moved through the halls, conjuring memories of that afternoon in the park—his mouth on my neck, his hands in my hair, the way he'd made me feel wanted and alive and completely overwhelmed.
When I returned to my station twenty minutes later, the warmth vanished instantly.
Xavier stood beside my desk. The note was in his hand.
He was reading it, his jaw tight, knuckles white against the paper. I watched his eyes move across Jay's words—the confessions of desire, the promises of things to come—and saw something shatter behind his careful composure.
"Xavier…" I started.
He set the note down carefully, deliberately, as if the control required to do so gently was the only thing keeping him from tearing it to pieces. When he met my eyes, the warmth I'd been basking in all morning had transformed into something cold and wounded.
He didn't say anything. Just looked at me for one long, devastating moment, then turned and walked away.
The rest of the shift was unbearable.
Xavier's attention had turned to frost. He didn't speak to me unless absolutely necessary, didn't look at me when we passed in the hallways, didn't acknowledge my existence beyond the minimum requirements of professional courtesy.
The coffee he'd brought that morning sat cold and untouched on my desk, a monument to everything that had changed in the space of ten minutes.
I counted the hours until I could escape. Then the minutes. Then, finally, I was pushing through the hospital doors into the evening air, breathing deeply like someone surfacing from too long underwater.
Footsteps followed.
"Summer, wait."
Xavier caught up with me in the parking garage, his composure restored but barely. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes that betrayed the control he was working to maintain.
"Let me drive you home." His voice was carefully neutral. "It's been a long day. For both of us. We should talk."
I opened my mouth to respond—to accept, to decline, I wasn't even sure which—when tires screeched behind us.
A car pulled up to the curb so fast that Xavier had to step backward to avoid being clipped. The passenger window rolled down, and Jay leaned across the seats, grinning like he hadn't just nearly committed vehicular assault.
"Summer! Perfect timing." He gestured toward the passenger door. "Hop in—you promised me tonight, remember? I've got reservations at that place you mentioned wanting to try."
I promised nothing. I didn't even know he'd be here.
"She's not going anywhere with you." Xavier's voice had gone hard, protective. "Can't you see she's exhausted? She needs rest, not whatever circus you're planning."
Jay's grin sharpened. "Funny, I don't remember asking for your opinion or your permission. Summer's a grown woman—she can decide for herself who she wants to spend her evening with."
"And you think showing up unannounced in a car you apparently can't control is going to impress her? Very mature, very thoughtful."
"At least I show up. At least I make an effort instead of lurking around hospital parking garages waiting to catch her alone."
"Effort?" Xavier laughed, harsh and humorless. "Is that what you call it? Flowers and grand gestures and notes that read like a teenage diary? Some of us prefer adult relationships based on mutual respect, not hormone-fueled infatuation."
"Mutual respect?" Jay stepped out of the car, squaring up. "Is that what you call lying to someone for months? Hiding a wife? Making promises you never intended to keep?"
They circled each other like fighters in a ring, barbed words flying, egos colliding. I stood between them—not physically, not anymore, but caught in the crossfire nonetheless—watching exhaustion and frustration build toward a breaking point I couldn't control.
A horn blared. Priya's car pulled up behind Jay's, window rolling down to reveal her unimpressed face.
"Summer. Get in. Now."
I didn't hesitate.
I pushed past both men, yanked open Priya's passenger door, and threw myself inside. She pulled away before either of them could protest, leaving them standing on the curb—still glaring at each other, united only in their shared bewilderment.
The silence in the car lasted exactly three blocks.
"So," Priya said, her voice deliberately casual. "That was something."
"That was a disaster." I pressed my palms against my eyes. "That was my entire life imploding in real time while two grown men acted like territorial dogs fighting over a bone."
"To be fair, you're a very attractive bone." She glanced at me sideways, a smile tugging at her lips. "Want to talk about it, or should I just drive until one of us runs out of things to say?"
The words spilled out—everything, from the confrontation last night to Xavier finding the note to Jay's ridiculous arrival in the parking garage. Priya listened without interrupting, her expression cycling through disbelief, amusement, and finally something more serious.
"This can't continue," she said when I finished. "You know that, right? Sooner or later, something's going to give. Either you choose, or they tear each other apart, or Nathan finds out and murders everyone involved."
"I know." My voice came out small. "I just don't know what I want. Every time I think I'm leaning one direction, something pulls me back the other way."
Priya was quiet for a moment. Then:
"Xavier is stable, mature, he understands your ambitions. But he also lied to you, kept you hidden, and his promises have already proven breakable. Jay is passionate and devoted and willing to fight for you openly. But he's impulsive, tied to a complicated past, and he only noticed you after you transformed into someone new."
"Neither is perfect."
"Nobody's perfect." Priya shrugged. "The question isn't who's flawless—it's who you can actually build a future with. Who you see yourself with in five years, ten years. Who fits into the life you actually want, not just the romance you crave."
I stared out the window, letting her words settle. They were unsexy. Unromantic. Exactly what I needed to hear.
"I'll try," I said finally. "Distance. Space. Actually thinking instead of just feeling."
"Good." Priya pulled into her apartment complex. "Now—terrible reality TV and wine, or do you want me to drop you home to spiral alone?"
"TV. Definitely TV."
Some decisions could wait until tomorrow.
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