“I’m not sure,” she said, opting for honesty.
“Then I’ll keep calling you Lizzy until you decide you don’t like it. If you ever don’t like it, just tell me.”
“Okay.”
His tone shifted slightly to be more steady, assured. It was the same voice he used to deliver hard news or calm chaos in the emergency room.
“So,Lizzy,” he said again, with a gentle emphasis on the nickname, “how are you holding up tonight?”
“Oh yeah—tonight. It went okay. My parents were shocked speechless—well, momentarily. My mom doesn’t stay speechless for long, and my dad… well, he’s different. Not in a bad way, just—he’s autistic, so he has a very linear thought process. Anyway, you get my point. They weren’t expecting this kind of news, but like always, Dad handled it with calm logic, and Mom said whatever popped into her head. We never even ate the red velvet cake.”
She stopped abruptly, realizing she’d been rambling—a habit that always surfaced when nerves took over. “It went okay… good. I think.”
“I’m glad things went well with your parents. And sorry about the dessert,” Bryce said gently, carefully picking his waythrough her scattered thoughts. “But what I meant was—how are you? Are you okay… physically?”
Beth blinked. “Physically?”
“Yes. I know last night was your first time.”
Her gasp was loud over the line. “OH! Uh… ummm…”
His voice shifted—softer now. Clinical. Measured.
“Medically speaking, it can be painful. And since neither of us remembers… we don’t know how, um, active things were.”
Even though she was alone in her dark apartment, Beth felt her face flush. “Oh. Um, yeah—no, I’m fine,” she mumbled. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not with him—even if he was her husband.
There was a pause before Bryce spoke again, his tone the calm, soothing one she’d often heard him use in emergency room. The tone that reassured patients—and now, her.
“Okay. I realize I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about this, but I had to ask. You’re a nurse. You know what’s normal and what’s not. If anything seems off, promise me you’ll talk to someone. Don’t keep it to yourself because of embarrassment.”
The concern in his voice wasn’t clinical—it was personal. His tone anchored her, made her feel safe.
“I’m okay, Bryce. Really. Just a little sore, that’s all.”
She heard him exhale, tension dissipating out in sound—like he’d finally let go of something he’d been gripping too tightly.
“Thanks. I toldmyself not to worry, but I couldn’t help it.” There was a soft rustle on the other end of the line, the kind that made her imagine him sinking back into bed. “How are you doing otherwise?”
“Honestly?”
“Always.”
Beth inhaled slowly. “I think I’m still in shock. I know this morning wasn’t a dream—I wouldn’t be talking to you if it was—but it still doesn’t feel real. It’s like I watched it happen to someone else. Like I got swept into someone else’s story.” She paused, her voice softening. “I mean… nothing like this has ever happened to me.”
The heaviness settled again, pressing on her chest—so she reached for a thread of humor.
“I don’t usually marry my coworkers.”
The silence that followed her joke stretched longer than she expected.
“You can laugh. It was a joke,” she added, her tone lighter, trying to break the tension.
“I know,” he said quietly. “It just got me thinking about who you would normally marry. I can’t help but wonder… am I ruining a relationship for you?”
His tone was casual, but something beneath it tugged at her attention—something that sounded suspiciously like jealousy. It surprised and confused her.
Cloaked in the darkness, Beth felt a boldness crept in. Even if they never spoke again after tonight, there was somethingabout this strange connection they shared—something peaceful, almost comforting—that made her want to hold onto it a little longer.
