“And if you’re not working at the hospital, then…” She trails off.
“Then no one has grounds to dictate who I see or what I do in my free time.”
I hear something shift in her breathing. Her voice is soft. “You’re doing this because of me.”
“I’m doing this for a few reasons, actually. I’m done dealing with the whims of administrators who have never helped a sick person in their lives. I’m done with Meron and Amber’s games. Trust me when I say, it will be better for me not to see myex-wife’s affair partner every day. And it’s time for me to help people my own way.”
That’s not the full truth. But it’s not a lie.
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I’m the maid of honor,” she says finally. “I’ll have duties.”
“Congratulations, and I expect you’ll be at Faith’s beck and call for the day, but all the same, I’d like to attend it with you.”
“Then, I’d be happy to be there on your arm.” The warmth in her voice hits deeper than anticipated.
This isn’t how I imagined my life shifting. Not from a parking lot argument with my former best friend. Not because of a woman who once kissed me in a restaurant bathroom and now occupies my thoughts with dangerous consistency.
For years, I’ve allowed the hospital to function as a pillar of identity. Senior physician. Respected. Steady. Reliable. It gave shape to my days. Structure to my weeks. It justified long nights and tolerated isolation.
It was also the excuse I used to avoid my marriage. Once I knew I had begun to fall out of love with Amber, the hospital became a convenient excuse to avoid being home. When I realized just how deeply her talons had sunk into Jason, the hospital became my refuge. A way to dodge my personal responsibility.
Without it, I have nothing to use to avoid building a life with Perry. If she wants that. If not, I’ll figure something else out, but I won’t use my career that way again. I got into medicine to help people. It’s time to get back to that.
It’s time to get back to myself.
21
PERRY
The wedding dayfeels like walking into a kiln. Everything is hot. Overlit. Too bright to hide inside.
Faith’s venue is exactly what she wanted—the sprawling Baylock estate, ivory drapery everywhere, chandeliers dripping crystal like they also cry at weddings. The floral arrangements alone could fund a small country and hide a large sin.
I am running. I have a clipboard. I have a headset. I have three bridesmaids texting me about lip gloss and one stylist asking if Faith wants the second set of lacquer applied to everyone’s hair, just in case.
I’m the perfect maid of honor. Fetching champagne. Steaming dresses. Reminding the photographer that Faith’s left side is her “camera side,” and no, that is not negotiable, no matter how the light falls.
“If the light is failing, get more lights.”
“She wants natural lighting?—”
“Then make it look natural.”
“Perry!” Faith calls from inside the bridal suite.
“I’m here,” I answer on my way to her.
She’s in the center of the room, robe cinched tight, hair halfway curled, face contoured within an inch of anatomical accuracy. She looks like herself if herself was airbrushed, polished, and perfected into a doll designed to look like her.
“Why aren’t the mimosas here?” the bridezilla demands.
“They’re on their way,” I say calmly.
Candy rolls her eyes in the corner. Alexis is already tipsy. Brie is crying because her strapless bra betrayed her.
I solve all of it. I solve everything. That’s my job today, and I’m nailing it, no matter how stressed out this event has made me.
Every time something has gone wrong in the past month, Faith has called me. Not Jason. Not her idiot wedding planner. Me. And I have put out every fire. She has been whinier than my infants, but I’ve handled it all, and today is the culmination of my hard work. I’m not about to let something as trivial as mimosas get out of hand.
