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He raised one brow, amused. “You always this strict?”

“When somebody wastes my time? Absolutely.”

“Damn.”

“And since you already burned forty minutes of my afternoon,” I added, checking my watch, “I’m tacking that time onto your first invoice.”

That crooked smile widened. “Do whatever you gotta do, Nurse Lakelyn.”

So I did.

I billed him for every single minute of that forty-minute delay.

Yonas paid the invoice that evening without disputing a cent. Then he added a tip so ridiculous that I called him the next morning to inform him I was refunding it because I refused to accept an amount that looked like somebody’s hand had slipped and hit the zero key three extra times.

He had just chuckled through the receiver.

It wasn’t an accident, Nurse Lakelyn. Take the money.

That should have told me everything I needed to know about him.

Over the next month, I cared for his mom while she regained her strength. Yonas was there almost every day. He showed up with extravagant floral arrangements his mom fussed at him for buying, and takeout containers full of salty, seasoned food she had no medical business eating.

Watching him with her gave me a glimpse of the man beneath the wealth. He wasn’t just a rich investor with an annoying habit of thinking his calendar outranked everyone else’s; he adored his mother. He checked her incision with his own eyes, rubbed her feet when they swelled, and anticipated what she needed before she even had to ask.

Somewhere between administering pain medication, helping with physical therapy, and me threatening to confiscate every illicit snack he tried smuggling into the kitchen, we fell into an easy rhythm.

He flirted relentlessly.

I ignored him.

He laid the charm on thicker.

I pushed back twice as hard, reminding him that I was a professional doing a job and that crossing lines wasn't in my contract.

Once his mom’s case officially ended and I signed off on her discharge papers, Yonas waited exactly twenty-four hours before contacting me… and not to ask about his mom’s recovery, but to ask if he could take me out to dinner.

I told him no.

He called back the following week and asked again. I told him no a second time.

By the fourth time he called, I finally agreed, mostly because I assumed an evening of me talking about twelve-hour hospital shifts and toddler tantrums would scare him off for good.

It didn't.

Instead, one dinner turned into a second, dinner turned into a genuine friendship, and the friendship gradually settled into something comfortable. Somewhere along the line, comfortable had become us.

Or whatever version of a relationship we had managed to build over the last two years.

I picked up a folded cream sweater from the comforter, keeping my eyes fixed on the knit fabric. “I know you can come, Yonas.”

“So why are you acting like I didn’t just say it?”

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. “Because it doesn't make sense.”

“I’m serious, Lakelyn.” He leaned his hips back against the wooden dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can throw a few bags in the trunk and follow you down there tomorrow morning.”

“No.”