21. Elle

TWENTY-ONE

Elle

11:54 am

I'm literally smiling from ear to ear as I recount last night's events to Isabella over lunch on the rooftop terrace. The warm Birmingham sun bathes us in a gentle glow, and I feel lighter than I have in days.

"When he showed up after eleven at night, I was stewing so much in my anger that I could barely look at him," I say, sipping my sweet tea. "I basically told him to leave and turned over in my bed."

Isabella leans in, her eyes wide. "You're savage! What happened?"

"He left!" I laugh. "I didn't leave him much of a choice. I mean, as far as I saw it, he's just going to meander in at an indecent hour and act like nothing after not talking to me for days? No thanks, fuck face. That's basically how I felt."

"I got you. But I can see something else went down, so…"

"Well… He came back."

"And, long story short, I heard him out. Begrudgingly. And he had a plausible explanation. Enough so that I wanted to hear more."

I give her the whole shebang, filling her in on Opie's mom, the accident, the coma, and the brain activity. She is the perfect audience for me because she gets me. And she can get mad at Shep with me and then also forgive him.

I laugh, shaking my head. "It turns out he saw Justin holding my hand and thought he was my boyfriend. Can you believe it? He was jealous! That's when he finally got me. How arrogant of me?"

"No way!" Isabella exclaims. "But wait, what about that nurse he was hugging?"

"Oh, that," I wave my hand dismissively. "Carly, a nurse on the floor, is an old friend from his residency. That's why they seemed so familiar. He was just excited because he got news about Ari. She had been following the whole saga. So she was sharing in the good news with him."

Isabella's jaw drops. "Hold up. Are you at all worried about the baby momma? Is it weird he is so worried about her."

I fill her in on the details about Ari's disappearance and subsequent hospitalization and the fact that Shep's stress (and then his happiness to find out she was hopefully pulling through) was about Ari. "So, no, I find it fucking sexy and sweet."

"Because it is. Wow, he sounds pretty amazing if all of this shakes out to be legit."

"The moral of the story is that it was all just one big misunderstanding after another," I conclude. "We talked it out, and... well, let's just say we made up properly."

Isabella squeals with delight. "Elle! You little slut! In the hospital bed?"

I feel my cheeks flush and can't contain my grin. "Maybe. But Izzy, it felt so right. It's like all these years apart just melted away. Plus, if you catch my drift, I needed a release down there."

I wave goodbye to Izzy as she heads off to her cake-tasting with Mark. A pang of sadness hits me—I should be there as her maid of honor, sampling decadent slices and sipping champagne. Instead, I'm shuffling back to my five-by-five hospital room.

I round the corner, and my mood instantly lifts. There's Shep, looking like a snack in his soft scrubs, lounging in the visitor's chair in my room. His eyes light up when he sees me.

"Well, hello there, stranger," I say, unable to keep the grin off my face.

"Hey yourself," he replies, his voice warm and rich like honey.

I don't hesitate. In three quick strides, I'm at the chair. I swing one leg over and straddle his lap, my hands resting on his broad shoulders.

"So, Dr. Duncan," I purr, "I have some bad news about my fine motor skills."

His hands settle on my hips, thumbs tracing small circles. "Oh? Do tell, Ms. Klass."

I lean in close, my lips brushing his ear. "Turns out I'm absolute garbage at Operation. My patient died at least four times."

Shep chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest. "That's a shame. I was hoping you'd be my scrub nurse someday."

"Hey now," I protest, pulling back to look him in the eye. "I'll have you know I excel at other... hands-on activities."

His pupils dilate, and I feel a thrill of satisfaction. "Is that so?" he murmurs.

"Mhmm," I nod, trailing a finger down his jawline. "Want me to demonstrate?"

"That is absolutely essential. But first, we need a business meeting."

I can sense a shift in Shep's demeanor as his hands gently grip my waist.

"I can do business better than I can do operating."

"I can't believe that. But seriously, there is something I want to talk to you about," he says, his tone suddenly more serious.

I lean back, studying his face. Those stormy blue eyes that usually dance with mischief are now clouded with something else. Concern? Apprehension? It's hard to read.

"Uh oh," I tease, trying to lighten the mood. "You're giving me your serious doctor face. Should I be worried?"

Shep's lips quirk up slightly, so I'm not too alarmed yet. "No, no. Nothing to worry about. Just something we should discuss."

I nod, sensing this isn't the time for jokes. Reluctantly, I slide off his lap and perch on the edge of my hospital bed, my legs dangling over the side. The thin mattress dips beneath me, a stark reminder of where we are and all that's happened.

"Okay, Dr. Duncan," I say, folding my hands in my lap. "I'm all ears."

Shep leans forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He takes a deep breath, and I find myself holding mine, waiting for whatever bombshell he's about to drop.

"Charlie stopped me after surgery today. He had an unusual request."

My heart skips a beat. "Oh, yeah? What kind of request?"

"It's about you, actually," Shep says, his voice gentle. "The hospital is at full capacity, and they're pressuring Charlie to free up some beds. He says you're ready for rehab, but..."

"But what?" I prompt, leaning forward.

"There aren't any open rehab beds within a hundred-mile radius," Shep explains. "Charlie doesn't want to fully release you yet, given your recent bout with sepsis and the need for continued antibiotics and therapy."

I nod slowly, trying to process this information. "So what does that mean for me?"

Shep clears his throat and shifts in the chair. He runs his hand through his thick, dark hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of nervousness for him. "Charlie asked if I'd be willing to have you stay at my place again for another week or two. It would be like a hybrid halfway discharge. You'd continue your outpatient therapy here at UAB, and Charlie can see you a couple of times before final release from his care."

My breath catches in my throat. Stay at Shep's place? For weeks? My mind races with the implications. The last time that happened, I almost died. But, then again, he is the reason I didn't.

Not to mention, if I have to be stuck here, playing a little house doesn't sound too bad. There are certainly worse scenarios that I could imagine.

"Interesting. Last time, it was kind of a fluke situation, but he actually asked you if you would do it. Hmm. It's an interesting proposition, for sure."

"I told Charlie I needed to talk to you first," Shep continues, his eyes searching mine. "I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the idea before I gave him an answer."

The first time he offered me a room in his house, we hadn't slept together yet. This time, the cat's out of the bag, pun intended. The stakes are definitely higher.

I sit there, stunned a bit into silence.

"Not that I'm against it, but did he say what the alternative is? Like, am I being kicked out of the hospital?"

"We didn't discuss it, but I imagine they would transfer you to one of the rehabs, which is a good way out of the city. He would probably consult with an on-site doctor and keep up with your progress that way. Your antibiotics can be finished at rehab."

"Let me explain my reticence."

"No explanation needed," he starts, but I cut him off with my open palm outstretched.

"Please. I'd like to say this. We have been kind of acting on pure emotion and raw desire. If we both agree to do this, I propose we have a real conversation. So we both know what exactly we are doing and what expectations are on both sides."

"I think that is an excellent idea." He seems genuinely open to the idea of talking.

"So, are we doing it?"

"Let's do it. I'd love to get more time with you than just a few visits here and there. And late nights sneaking in and out of your room," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

I'm thrilled at the thought. This time feels different than last time. We are going into this with our eyes and hearts wide open. And I'm ready and looking forward to discussing what we are doing.

2:49 pm

I sit in the visitor's chair, surveying the small mountain of items I've somehow accumulated over the past two weeks. It's funny how quickly a hospital room can start to fill up with things people send or bring to a patient—some of this stuff. I don't even know where it came from. I arrived with the clothes on my back, and somehow, I have this pile of stuff that might require several bags.

The nurse bustles in, arms laden with plastic bags. "Here you go, honey. These should help you pack everything up. Once you have it ready, we will bring a cart to take it all down to the lobby."

"Thanks," I smile, grateful for her kindness.

As I start sorting through my belongings, I can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I'm finally getting out of here—for the second time. But instead of heading home to Florida, I'm going to Shep's house. I guess I could consider it bittersweet.

I carefully fold the cozy pajamas Izzy brought me, tucking them into one of the bags. Next, I come to the stack of magazines my mom left to keep me entertained.

I pause as I pick up the fluffy throw blanket from the end of the bed. According to my mom, Shep had brought it from his house when I was in a coma. She said he insisted the hospital blankets were too scratchy. The gesture touches me tremendously because he did it when he couldn't even get kudos for this thoughtfulness. He did it because he is genuinely thoughtful.

As I continue packing, my mind wanders to our conversation earlier. Shep's offer to have me stay with him feels different this time—more intentional, more loaded with possibility. We'd agreed to have a real talk about what we're doing and expectations. Part of me is terrified, but a bigger part is ready to see if there is something real there.

I glance at the clock, wondering how much longer this will take. Shep left hours ago to relieve Cason and get Opie, knowing the discharge process would take a while. I'm grateful for the time to gather my thoughts and my belongings.

The nurse pops her head back in. "Almost ready, dear? The doctor should be by soon with your final paperwork."

Chez Fonfon

2007 11th Ave S

5:02 pm

I can't help but smile as I slide into the booth across from Shep and Opie. The little burger joint is bustling with early dinner crowds, the air thick with the aroma of sizzling patties and crispy fries.

"So, this is the famous Chez Fon Fon burger I've been hearing about?" I ask, picking up the menu.

Shep grins. "Best in Birmingham. Right, buddy?" He nudges Opie, who's coloring intently on his kids' menu.

"Uh-huh," Opie nods, not looking up from his masterpiece. "Can I get a milkshake, Dad?"

"Sure thing, champ. What do you say we all get milkshakes?" Shep winks at me.

I laugh. "I'm game. After weeks of hospital food, I'm ready for some real indulgence."

As we place our orders, I can't help but notice how surprisingly at ease I feel with them. Shep's gentle way with Opie, the easy banter between father and son—it's all unexpectedly charming.

There's a warmth to their interaction that tugs at something deep inside me, a longing I've never had before. I find myself smiling more than I have in weeks, caught up in their playful dynamic.

It's strange how comfortable this feels, like slipping into a favorite sweater I'd forgotten I owned. I have to remind myself not to get too swept up in the moment, but it's hard when Shep's eyes crinkle with laughter, and Opie's face lights up with each silly joke his dad tells.

Our food arrives, and I bite into my burger with a satisfied moan. "Oh my god, this is amazing. Y'all were right."

Shep chuckles. "Told you. Hey, Opie, show Elle your burger-eating technique."

Opie grins, picking up his mini burger with both hands and taking a comically enormous bite. I burst out laughing, and even Shep can't contain his amusement.

As we eat, Opie regales us with tales from his Children's Museum adventures with Cason earlier in the day. Shep listens attentively, asking questions and offering encouragement. I am quickly drawn into their world, laughing at Opie's jokes and marveling at Shep's patience.

8:17 pm

I take a sip of my cabernet, savoring the rich flavor as I gaze at Elle across the small table. The pool shimmers in the twilight, reflecting the clear sky above. A cool breeze rustles through the trees, a welcome respite from the usual Alabama heat.

I turned on my Sonos speakers and have beach music playing lightly in the background. We both loved listening to the old tunes from the shag era back in college. It was one of the odd indulgences we shared.

So, I thought having a little Drifters and Smokey Robinson setting the tone was a nice touch. A big smile spreads across her face as she starts to sing along to " Under the Boardwalk."

"So," I begin, setting down my glass. "We should probably talk about where we go from here."

Elle nods, her eyes meeting mine. "I've been thinking about that too. A lot, actually."

"I know I want to give this another shot," I say, touching her finger as it rests on the base of the wine glass. "But I also know it's not going to be simple."

She squeezes my fingers. "I want that too, Shep. But you're right—there are some big hurdles."

I take a deep breath. "The distance is the biggest one. You'll be heading back to Florida soon."

"Yeah," Elle sighs. "My medical leave is for six weeks, but after that, I have to get back to work. My whole life is there."

"And mine is here," I add softly. "With Opie, my practice..."

We sit silently for a moment, the weight of reality settling over us.

"Maybe we could do weekends?" Elle suggests. "Alternating visits?"

I nod slowly. "That could work. It's about a six-hour drive, right, and a two-hour flight? We could make that happen."

"And there's always FaceTime," Elle adds with a small smile. "It's not ideal, but it's something."

I lean back in my chair, considering. "It won't be easy. But I think there is something still there between us worth exploring."

Her eyes soften. "I feel the same way, Shep."

"I don't know what is going to happen with Ari. I spoke with her team today, and there haven't really been any improvements. These things can take months, or there is the possibility she will never wake up. So that means, at least for the foreseeable future, I will always have Opie in tow."

"That doesn't bother me in the least. I love Opie. The question is, how do you feel about that? I know this has all been unconventional, but I imagine you don't introduce him to your lady friends so quickly. What if things don't work out?"

Hearing those words stings. Yes, she is right. Most of the women I've been with have never even met him, much less gotten to spend so much time with him.

But more than that, the notion that this might not work is a real possibility. We have the odds stacked against us in several ways.

"Well, to be honest, no one I've dated has ever really spent time with him. If someone met him, it was by pure coincidence and fleeting. I love that you get a glimpse into our life and be around him because doing this will require a lot of quality time together. To answer your question, I don't feel at all hesitant."

She nods her head and takes a sip of her wine. I swirl mine and sniff before doing the same.

"So, here is a big one. Are we just going to do a casual thing, or is this exclusive?"

She comes in hard and fast. We only broached this not even a full twenty-four hours ago. In fairness, this has been bubbling since we saw each other two weeks ago. But under any circumstances, this is happening at lightning speed.

"You know, that is a legitimate question. You might find it hard to believe, but I haven't been in an exclusive relationship since we broke up over ten years ago. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you the idea of that scares the shit out of me."

I listen intently as Elle shares her dating history since our breakup. Her honesty is refreshing, and I find myself opening up about my own experiences.

"I appreciate your candor about Justin," I say. "Ending things because you knew he wasn't the one, that takes courage."

Elle nods. "It wasn't easy, but it felt right. What about you? Any serious relationships?"

I shake my head. "Nothing long-term. I've dated but never committed. I've seen too many friends fall into comfortable routines, staying together out of habit rather than love. That's not what I want."

"I get that," Elle says. "I'm not necessarily asking for exclusivity right now. I just want us to be honest with each other."

Her words ease some of the tension I've been feeling. "Transparency is important to me, too. And right now, I'm not looking to date anyone else."

Elle smiles. "Neither am I. I think we can make this work, Shep. It won't be easy with the distance, but I'm willing to try if you are."

I reach across the table and take her hand. "I am. We'll figure it out as we go. Weekly calls, alternating visits when we can. It'll be an adjustment, but I think we're both up for the challenge."

As we continue talking, I feel a sense of hope growing. Elle's approach to relationships differs from what I'm used to, but it feels right. We're not rushing into anything, but we're not holding back either. It's a delicate balance, but I'm eager to explore it with her.

The familiar opening beats of The Embers' quintessential beach music song, "I Love Beach Music," drift through the speakers. Elle bursts into laughter, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia.

"Oh my god, Shep! Do you remember this one?"

I can't help but grin. "How could I forget? We must have danced to this song together a hundred times, easily."

Memories flood back—lazy summer nights on Florida beaches, the sand between our toes, and Elle in my arms as we danced under the stars. Without thinking, I stand and extend my hand to her.

"Well, Miss Klass, do you still have it in you?"

Elle's eyes sparkle as she takes my hand. "Let's find out, Dr. Duncan."

I pull her close, our bodies falling into a familiar rhythm. The moonlight casts a soft glow on her face as we begin to dance. Elle's hand fits perfectly in mine, just like it did all those years ago. We move together, our feet remembering the steps we practiced countless times on those beach nights.

We both sing along to the familiar and nostalgic lyrics, "I Love Beach Music. I always have, and I always will. There ain't no other kind of music in the world that gives me quite the thrill…"

I'm amazed at how quickly the steps come back to us. Elle's hand rests lightly in mine as we move across the pool patio, our feet gliding effortlessly over the warm blue stone tile. The starry night sky above us feels like a canopy of memories, each twinkling light a reminder of our happy and connected past together.

I lead Elle into a turn, and she spins gracefully, her hair fanning out behind her. When she comes back to me, there's a sparkle in her eye that takes my breath away. We fall back into the basic step, our bodies in perfect sync.

"Remember that time we danced until sunrise at Daytona Beach?" Elle asks, a hint of laughter in her voice.

I chuckle, recalling the memory. "How could I forget? We were so tired the next day, but it was worth it."

As the chorus hits, we pick up the pace. I guide Elle through a series of quick steps and turns, our feet moving in perfect harmony. The shag isn't just a dance; it's a conversation between two people, and right now, Elle and I are speaking volumes without saying a word.

We pivot and slide, our bodies close but barely touching. Elle's smile is radiant as we execute a particularly tricky move, and I can't help but grin back at her. The music flows through us, and for a moment, it feels like we're back on those Florida beaches, young and carefree.

As the song winds down, I pull Elle close for a final spin. She twirls under my arm and then settles against my chest, both of us slightly out of breath but exhilarated. We sway gently as the last notes fade away, neither of us ready to let go of this moment.

I'm struck by how right this feels. Elle's head rests on my shoulder, and I can smell the faint scent of her shampoo. It's intoxicating, bringing back a rush of memories and emotions.

"You haven't lost your touch," I murmur into her ear.

She laughs softly. "Neither have you, Duncan."

The cool breeze, the moonlight, and the music all together create a perfect moment. I hold Elle a little tighter, savoring the feeling of her in my arms. It's as if no time has passed, yet everything has changed.

As we move together, I realize how much I've missed this - not just the dancing but the easy connection we've always shared. Elle looks up at me, her eyes shining, and I'm transported back to those carefree college days when our whole lives stretched out before us.

As the last "I Love Beach Music" notes fade away, Elle remains in my arms, her body warm against mine. The speakers transition seamlessly into "Cool Me Out" by LaMont Dozier, and its smooth rhythm is perfect for this moment.

I gaze down at Elle, taking in every detail of her face. Her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and a soft smile plays on her lips. Without thinking, I lean down and capture those lips with mine.

The kiss is gentle at first, a tender exploration. Elle's hand slides up my chest and rests on my shoulder, pulling me closer. I deepen the kiss, pouring all the emotions of the past weeks into it—the fear, the joy, the rekindled feelings.

We sway gently to the music, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The world around us fades away, and all I can focus on is the feel of Elle in my arms, the taste of her lips, and the scent of her hair.

As we break apart for air, I rest my forehead against hers. Elle's eyes flutter open, and the look she gives me sends a jolt through my body. I've missed this connection, this intimacy that we once shared.

"Shep," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the music.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. "Elle," I respond, my voice equally soft.

We continue our slow dance, our bodies pressed close together. The cool night air contrasts with the warmth radiating between us. Elle rests her head on my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat matching the song's rhythm.

In this perfect moment, all the complications of our situation—the distance, my son, our careers—seem to melt away. It's just Elle and me, swaying under the stars, reconnecting in a way I never thought possible.

As the sultry notes of LaMont Dozier's "Cool Me Out" blend with the balmy night air, I find myself lost in the rhythm of our shag, the dance that once defined our weekends in Florida. With Elle in my arms, the past and present converge in a single, perfect moment.

Our lips meet, and the years between us dissolve. Her fingers trace the contours of my shoulder, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. The kiss deepens, a silent promise of the passion yet to come.

I guide Elle towards a lounger by the pool, its cushions inviting under the starlit sky. The music follows us, setting the pace for our growing desire. As we sink into the plush fabric, I'm acutely aware of every point of contact between us – her hand on my chest, her thigh pressed against mine.

My fingers find the hem of her shirt. And with a gentle tug, I lift it over her head, careful of her injured hand. I marvel at the smooth skin revealed beneath. Her body is a canvas of scars and strength, a testament to her resilience. I trace the line of her collarbone with my lips, eliciting a soft gasp from Elle.

She reaches for the waistband of my shorts, her movements confident and sure. I shed my clothes eagerly, our bodies colliding in a frenzy of want and need.

With Elle lying beneath me, I take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the woman who has, once again, captured my heart. Her eyes lock onto mine, a silent invitation to explore the depths of our connection.

I lower myself onto the lounger beside her, our bodies aligning perfectly. My hand travels south, exploring the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her breast. Her breath hitches as I tease her nipple into a peak, her back arching off the lounger.

Our hips rock together, a primal rhythm that builds with each passing second. I can feel the heat of her core against my thigh, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

Sliding down her body, I position myself between her legs. With a flick of my tongue, I taste her—her sweet, intoxicating flavor that's uniquely Elle. She moans, her fingers threading through my hair, guiding me closer.

I tease and pleasure her with my mouth, relishing the sounds of her ecstasy. Her body tenses, her muscles coiling like a spring as she nears the edge. With one final stroke of my tongue, she shatters beneath me, her cries echoing off the water.

As she comes down from her high, I rise and align myself with her entrance. With a single, fluid motion, I slide inside her, a groan escaping my lips at the exquisite tightness, her slick wetness.

We move together, our bodies in perfect harmony. The lounger creaks beneath us, a steady counterpoint to the slap of our skin and the soft, urgent whispers we exchange.

Elle's hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining as we climb higher and higher. I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, a telltale sign of my impending release.

With a final, powerful thrust, I tumble over the edge, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm. Elle follows me, her inner muscles milking me for every last drop.

Breathless and sated, we lie entwined on the lounger, the cool night air starkly contrasting with the warmth radiating from our bodies. The stars overhead wink knowingly as if they, too, understand the depth of our reunion.

In this moment, nothing else matters—not the past, not the distance between us, not the challenges that lie ahead. It's just Elle and me, two souls reconnecting in the most intimate way possible. As our breathing slows and our hearts sync up with the gentle lapping of the pool water, I know without a doubt that this is where I'm meant to be.