I drew in a deep breath and pressed my lips together to fight off the tears prickling my eyes. I was not going to cry over this or anything else today.
“How often do you get slammed like you did this week?” He glanced over as we rounded a hooked portion of the trail that jutted out into the pond. “When Copeland said transplant was more unpredictable than any other service, I believed it, but I didn’t dream that looked anything like the past few days.”
“It’s a blue moon sort of thing.” I let my fingers trail over his knuckles and the back of his hand. Two could play this game. “Probably once every year, year and a half.”
“Hartshorn was right.” Henry gazed at the pond as we came up to another bend. “This place is nice.”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
He shrugged, his elbow bumping into mine as we walked. “I don’t know the guy. I don’t know if I can trust his recommendations.”
“You should trust him,” I said, a laugh ringing in my words as I let our fingers tangle together for a second. “Did I take you away from other plans today?”
“Nope. I met with my cohort this morning for some journal and conference review. We divide up the conferences each week and present notes to each other.”
“That’s smart.” Feeling bold, I grazed my knuckles along the outside of his thigh. His stride faltered. He cleared his throat. I decided I liked this game. “Which conference did you have?”
“Melanoma research.” He dragged a hand from the back of my neck along my jaw. “Please tell me you’re wearing sunscreen.”
“Every day,” I said with a laugh. Goddamn, it felt good to laugh. And it felt good to be with Henry. “Are they looking forward to pediatric surgery?”
“I have no fucking clue.” He gave me a manic grin that had me laughing again. “You want to know why? Because you are the only thing that exists in my mind when I think about this time next week. All I want, all I can think about is finishing this rotation. I don’t care if I’m operating on rotisserie chickens for the next month. None of it matters as long as you aren’t my boss and this bullshit isn’t our problem anymore.”
Ourproblem.
I slipped my hand into his and squeezed. We stopped walking. “We can’t be obvious. We’ll need to keep it quiet for a few months.”
With his free hand, he reached for the zipper on my jacket, dragging it down enough to expose my neck. He leaned in, brushing his lips over my cheeks and along the column of my throat. “Can we have more sleepovers?”
“Not until you’re off my service.”
“Next weekend, then.”
He slipped a hand under my shirt and drew circles on my lower back. I couldn’t believe how much it turned me on. At this point, with all the tension crackling between us, he could probably elbow me in the ribs and I’d be aroused.
“Next weekend,” I echoed. He kissed his way up my neck and along my jaw while I locked my arms around his broad shoulders. “You’ll have to stay away from me until then. Faraway. No elevators. No hanging out in my gallery. Not even a cupcake. Just—just don’t make it any harder than it has to be.”
He held me closer and I felt his shaft, thick and long against my torso. “Really don’t think it could get much harder.”
I dropped my head to his chest. “Do you remember the elevator? After the wedding?”
“You ask that like I haven’t been thinking about it nonstop for months.” It was cute how he exaggerated. We were closing in on two months since the start of this rotation and there was no way he’d spent any time obsessing over a wedding hookup before then. Please. “If Lulu hadn’t barged in, I would’ve been on my knees with my head under that dress.”
I smiled into his shirt. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“I would’ve. I thought about kicking her out.” After a moment, he asked, “You’re sure about the sleepovers?”
“You’d think there’d be an exception for that, but no.”
Henry brushed a sweet kiss over my lips and shifted his hands to my elbows. He leaned back and I immediately missed being close to him. “Understood.”
I tipped my head toward the trail. “We should keep going.”
We walked in silence for several minutes, our hands bumping and tangling with every step.
He glanced over at me as we crossed the halfway point. “Why don’t you stop fucking around now and tell me what you’re upset about.”
“I didn’t realize I was fucking around.”
