Page 16 of Saved By the CEO

“What?”

“The whole section did.” She takes another sip of wine. “They closed half the floor last year because there weren’t enough patients to justify keeping it open.”

“What do they use it for now?”

“A little bit of everything. Outpatient procedures, storage, overflow when another department is full.” She pauses. “They cleared a couple of the old rooms for RHV when the hospital got the new guidelines.”

I think back to the pale walls. The locked door. Dr. Shaw waiting on the other side while my boss put his hand between my legs.

“So I got fingered in an old maternity ward.”

“Basically.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of fucked up.” Annie looks down at her glass. “The nursery is still there too, but they barely use it anymore. Most of the bassinets have been moved into storage, and they don’t even keep the desk staffed overnight unless there’s actually a baby on the floor.”

The image lands harder than I expect.

A whole part of the hospital built around people having children, slowly being dismantled because there aren’t enough children to put in it.

“That’s bleak,” I say.

“Very.” Annie takes another drink, then turns back to me. “Anyway, you were saying something about his thumb?”

I snort despite myself. “It wasn’t just his thumb.”

Her eyes widen. “Continue immediately.”

I finish telling her everything. When I’m done, she sets her wine glass on the coffee table and turns fully toward me.

“You do realize you don’t actually have a crush on him, right?”

I pour more wine into my glass. Feels like I’m going to need it. “I think I might, actually.”

She shakes her head. “He gave you an orgasm, and he’s not terrible to look at. It’s not a crush. It’s just your brain short-circuiting.”

I take a sip and consider that. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never been great at separating sex from feelings, and I really don’t want to embarrass myself by falling for him or something.”

“First of all, it wasn’t sex. It was a medical treatment.”

I open my mouth to object, but she waves me off.

“I know, I know. Best orgasm of your life, blah blah blah. Still a medical treatment. And second, there’s a very simple solution to all of this.”

“And what’s that, oh wise one?”

She gives me a light shove, and I almost spill my drink.

“Just date someone else.”

I wakeup the next morning feeling jittery. At first, I think it’s a hangover from last night’s wine. Then I wonder if the fever has returned. But nope. No hangover. No fever. It’s all nerves.

I’m scared to go into the office.

I consider calling in sick, but decide against it. It would only delay the inevitable. At some point, I’m going to have to face him again.

I get to work earlier than I usually do, just to make sure I don’t bump into a bunch of people in the lobby, or—god forbid—have to share an elevator with someone. I do not want to talk about what happened yesterday, but since someone decided to call agoddamn ambulance, I’m assuming it’s going to be hard to avoid. I will, however, do my best.