I took a sip of the scotch, letting the burn distract me from the urge to tell him exactly what I thought of his interference.
Tom seemed to sense my mood and didn't press me hard.
I stayed silent because I knew if I opened my mouth, I'd say things I didn't mean, or maybe I did mean them but I just knew better than to talk like that.
After a few minutes, he excused himself to speak with a donor, and I was left alone again and saw my chance to slip away unobserved.
The hallway leading to the exit was dimly lit and blessedly quiet.
I had nearly reached the coat check when a voice called out behind me.
"Dr. Bradley."
I turned to find Robert Kline, one of the hospital board members, approaching with a half-drunk grin.
He swayed while he walked and offered a cocky expression, and I had never cared for him.
"Leaving so soon?" Robert asked, stopping a few feet away.
"It's been a long week," I said, allowing just enough exhaustion into my tone to send the message.
I didn't want to be here at all, and if a board member called me out on shirking my responsibilities, I was in trouble.
"I noticed Miss Harrison wasn't here tonight," Robert said, his smile widening. "Trouble in paradise? Or did you decide to stop playing Daddy Claus with her?"
It took every ounce of control I possessed not to respond in a way that would've been deeply satisfying but ultimately destructive.
I stared at Robert, my jaw clenched, and he had the audacity to chuckle.
The rage must've shown on my face because he started laughing harder. I could've decked his drunk ass.
"Just a joke, Doctor," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "No offense intended."
"None taken," I growled, but it should've been obvious how upset I was.
He turned and walked past me, disappearing back toward the ballroom, while I stood frozen in the hallway, my fists clenched at my sides.
His little nickname was just the tip of the iceberg. This "Daddy Claus" thing was out of control.
Tabloids, newspapers, hospital gossip ring…
People had dubbed me the insulting term because they saw me as old enough to be her father, but what was more insulting was that they didn't even take time to notice how very human and fragile either of us were.
And the protective urge I had in that moment showed me something with crystal clarity that I'd been dancing around for weeks.
I loved Ember Harrison with a ferocity that terrified me.
Everything about her was perfect and wholesome and good.
And I had hurt her.
I had dismissed her in front of Thomas Reed, prioritizing my reputation over her feelings, and sent her home alone while I attended an event that meant nothing without her.
The realization was both liberating and agonizing.
I wanted to go to her, to tell her everything, to lay my heart bare and beg her forgiveness. But she would probably just send me away.
I got my jacket and stepped outside into a stiff breeze that chilled me.
