"Good. Stay that way. We're close on this." She disconnects.
Gwen flops back against the pillows. "They're close. That's good, right?"
"Should be. But close is when people get desperate."
"You're very reassuring."
"I'm very realistic."
She turns to face me. "So what do we do while they're being close?"
"Normal routine. You've got surgeries today?"
"Not until this afternoon." She traces a pattern on my chest, absent-minded. "We could just... stay here for a while."
Everything in me wants to say yes. Pull her closer, ignore the world outside this bedroom, pretend protective details and federal investigations don't exist.
But my phone buzzes again. Hayes this time:
Team dinner tonight? Santos wants to meet the doc.
I show Gwen the text. "My guys want to come over. Meet you properly."
"Tonight?"
"If you're up for it. I can tell them no."
She considers. "Actually, yeah. I'd like to meet the people you trust."
"You sure? They're going to ask invasive questions and make inappropriate jokes."
"I'm a surgeon. I've handled worse than inappropriate jokes."
"You haven't met Sullivan."
She grins. "Now I'm intrigued."
I text Hayes back:
1800. Tell Sully to behave.
Hayes responds immediately:
No promises.
"This is going to be a disaster," I say.
"Probably. But at least it'll be entertaining."
We get up. I make coffee while she showers. Normal morning routine except nothing about this is normal. There's a woman in my shower using my towels, and instead of feeling like an intrusion, it feels right.
When she emerges, hair damp and wearing my spare t-shirt because she forgot to grab clothes, something in my chest tightens.
"What?" she asks, catching my expression.
"Nothing. Just—" I hand her coffee. "You look good in my shirt."
Color touches her cheeks. "It was the closest thing. I can change?—"
