"I'm trying to be but my gut doesn't deal well with this kind of stress." She uncapped a bottle, shook another tablet into her palm. "We'll see how well it works."
"Just for my reference, who am I to you?" I asked. "Tonight."
And always?
"He's not going to ask," she replied. "He only cares about proximity to power."
"Right." I slipped my hands into my pockets. "It's good we cleared that up."
We took a taxi to the restaurant on the other side of the island. It was close to the hotel where the conference was taking place, and as the minutes ticked by, I could see the tension building inside her. She kept her gaze fixed on her lap while she ran the pad of her thumb over her nails. I didn't think I could remember ever seeing her nails polished before. I would've remembered.
When we stepped out of the taxi, I brought my hands to her shoulders and steered her away from the entrance.
"Where are we going?" she yelped.
"Over here," I said. "Just for a minute."
"We're going to be late."
"It's just a minute." Once we were tucked away behind a tree, I turned her to face me and lifted my hands to her jaw. "I need you to listen to me now.Listen. Be strong for me like I know you can, and when you can't be strong anymore, you'll let me do it for you."
She gave a quick, unconvincing nod. Then, "Don't mess up my face."
"Iwillmess up your face," I replied. "What do you think we're doing when we're done here?" I took her hand, squeezed it to remind her that she didn't have to let anyone make her small. "I've been thinking about bending you over that bed all day. I found a foot stool so you can reach, little bit. I plan on testing it out later. Just keep that in mind."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. That's exactly what I need to think about right now."
"It's better than anything else you're thinking." I rested my hand on her lower back. "Come on. Let's do this."
We made our way through the restaurant and found Dr. Shapiro seated, his attention fixed on his phone.
"Dad," she said, standing beside the table like she wasn't convinced she should sit.
Ihatedthat hesitance. Hated the way she twisted her fingers together, hated how she shrank in the face of his indifference. Where was the woman who ripped a fucking curtain from the ceiling because I dared to dismiss her criticism? Where was she? And who the fuck was this guy to chase her away with nothing more than the chill of his presence?
I didn't fucking know, but I was ready to scoop her up and get the hell out of here if it continued. I could be the asshole in this situation. I had no problem with that.
The man finished typing before looking up at his daughter, and that was all I needed to know about him. That was fucking it.
"Sara," he boomed, pushing to his feet. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten." He folded her into a hug while catching my eye over her shoulder. "She's always been such a scatterbrain."
What a fucking asshole.
"Dad, this is Sebastian Stremmel. I told you about him earlier. He's the top trauma surgeon at Massachusetts and the next Chief of Emergency Surgery."
I accepted his outstretched hand. "The part about emergency surgery is true. The part about Sara being a scatterbrain is not. Can't say I've ever seen her less than completely composed."
"Then you aren't looking very hard, Dr. Stremmel," he said, the words cracking into a chuckle.
Sara gave meI warned youeyes. I shrugged, giving her mythis doesn't scare mescowl.
As she'd promised, the older man asked nothing of our relationship or even why I was here in Jamaica. Instead, he launched into a long story about bumping into another surgeon, someone who'd once been something of a rival and now wanted Dr. Shapiro's assistance.
"That's always how it goes. They always come back around," he said, motioning to the server with his empty tumbler. "Another bourbon on the rocks, splash of soda, and something for the kids." He ran a tight, impatient grin over Sara. "You look like you could use a drink. What do I always tell you? You need to lighten up!" He leaned toward me, his elbow on the table, his fist under his chin, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes like I was the kind of dickhead who'd join him in slamming his daughter. "Always serious, this one. You'd think the world's ending every day. Can't even scare a smile out of her."
What afuckingasshole.
I pulled my most confused expression. "You think so? Huh." I grated my knuckles down my jaw. Sara passed a hand over her lips to hide a grin. "I don't see that at all."
