The couple beside us rises to leave. The woman pauses at our table. “You two are adorable together,” she says, addressing Zayn. “Don’t let this one get away.”
“Never again,” he says immediately, holding my gaze.
My heart feels too large for my ribcage. I used to hate when he made promises. They felt like ticking time bombs. But right now, with his warm hand wrapped around mine, I actually believe him.
I check my phone. “I need to head to work.”
“I’ll walk with you.” He stands and pays for both coffees before I can protest.
Outside, sunlight bathes everything in gold. He captures my hand as we walk toward the clinic, and I don’t scan the street to see who might be observing us anymore. I appreciate how his hand feels in mine—warm and solid and right.
“Want to come over tonight?” he asks as we reach the clinic entrance. “I’ll make that pasta dish you love.”
“With garlic bread?” I squint up at him against the brightness.
“With excessive amounts of garlic bread,” he confirms, leaning down to brush his lips against mine. His kiss tastes like coffee and something uniquely him. Something that feels like home now.
“Then absolutely yes,” I murmur as we separate. “Definitely yes.”
He squeezes my hand once more before releasing it. “I’ll text you later.”
I watch him walk away, already anticipating tonight. Already counting the hours until I see him again. Already believing—really, truly believing—that this time, we’re going to make it.
The clinic door swings open and Sara sticks her head out. “Are you coming in, or are you going to stand there mooning over your boyfriend all morning?”
“Shut up,” I say, but I’m grinning as I follow her inside.
I’m administering vaccinations to a wiggly Lab puppy when Sara appears in the doorway, her blonde hair escaping its ponytail. “Dr. Martinez wants to see you,” she says, eyebrows raised significantly. “In her office. She said it’s important.”
I finish the injection on the squirming puppy, who’s too occupied licking my face to register the needle’s prick. His owner—a teenage boy who saved his allowance for these shots—collects him with a grateful smile.
“She wants me now?” I ask Sara, disposing of the needle and peeling off my latex gloves.
“Immediately,” she confirms, still wearing that knowing expression.
My stomach clenches. Dr. Martinez only summons people to her office mid-shift when something’s wrong. Did I make a mistake? Is there a complaint? My mind spirals through catastrophic possibilities as I scrub my hands, check my scrubs for stains, and attempt to tame my chaotic ponytail.
“You look fine,” Sara says, reading my anxiety like she always does. “It’s nothing bad. Just go.”
The hallway stretches endlessly as I approach her office. Afternoon sunlight streams through vintage windows, creating golden rectangles on the worn linoleum. I knock tentatively on Dr. Martinez’s door, barely making a sound.
“Come in, Sophie.” Her voice carries through the wood—calm, not angry. Not upset. Just herself.
I push the door open to find her behind her ancient wooden desk—the one that’s occupied this space since the clinic’sfounding. Papers blanket every surface in organized stacks that only she can decipher. Sunlight pours through tall windows, illuminating suspended dust motes and making her framed veterinary license gleam on the wall.
“You wanted to see me?” My voice emerges higher than intended.
Dr. Martinez smiles warmly and gestures to the chair across from her. “Sit, mija. I need to discuss something important with you.”
I perch on the edge, hands clasped to stop them shaking. My thoughts race. Is she promoting me to lead tech? Does she need more weekend coverage? Or maybe?—
“We’re purchasing the building,” she announces, interrupting my speculation. She taps a substantial stack of documents with her pen. “Finalizing the paperwork now. Next week, this property will officially belong to the clinic.”
I gasp. “That’s incredible! I knew we were close, but I didn’t realize?—”
Her eyes crinkle with genuine joy. “Couldn’t have accomplished it without you and Zayn. His financial plan was brilliant—our monthly payments will actually be lower than the rent.”
Heat floods my face at Zayn’s name. Two months together, and I still get butterflies whenever he’s mentioned. “He’s exceptional at what he does,” I say, attempting professional distance instead of sounding like a besotted girlfriend.
