Chapter 17

I got my period. I sort of expected it when all the tests we took came back negative, but still. It sucks. On top of that, my patient died on the table this morning. There was no saving him, and I knew that, but it was just one thing on top of the other, and I still have six hours left on this bitch.

"I heard about your patient," Cricket chirps, giving me mockingly sad eyes with a stupid smirk that makes her look even more like a bug than she already is. "I guess you can't save them all. Though I'm sure I could have."

"Oh, you mean like the lady who died in your OR yesterday? The one you likely could have saved, but didn't?" I retort, staring at the computer screen in front of me and pretending like she's not getting to me as much as she is.

She makes an annoyed noise in her throat because there is no retort to that.

"Whatever," she snaps. "You're just upset because Bennett?—"

"Delivery for you, Katy," Michelle, one of the nurses, says with a big beaming smile as she walks over carrying a cellophane-wrapped basket.

"What is it?" I ask as she sets it down before me.

"You're not allowed to have that out here," Cricket bites, her face pinched up as she eyes the large basket with derision—and likely a bit of jealousy.

Michelle and I ignore her. I'm too focused on what's before me. "It looks like a basket of goodies for you. There's a card too."

She rips the taped-on card and hands it to me. Tearing at the small white envelope, I open it, and immediately a smile spears my lips as a pack of happy butterflies fills my chest.

Hope you're not too down, but if you are, I hope this makes you feel better. Don't stress it. We'll get there when the time is right, but, in the meantime, I can't wait to be inside you again. P.S. The baked goods are all sugar-free or sugar substitutes.

It's in his handwriting, which means he put this together himself and had it delivered.

"Who's it from?" Michelle asks.

"A friend," I whisper, biting into my lip as I tuck the card in my pocket and then attack the cellophane with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. I told Bennett—who has the day off and is going to his mother's chemo treatment to read her smut—before I left the house this morning that I got my period. He gave me a sweet kiss on my forehead, one on my nose, then wrapped me up in a hug for the ages and told me I was beautiful and perfect and that most people don't get pregnant on their first try, so I shouldn't let myself get too upset.

And now he did this.

Something so sweet and thoughtful it makes my heart pinch and my face hurt from trying to contain my smile.

Since our encounter in the women's locker room over a week ago, things between us have been great. We went to the attorney and discussed with him what we want and what we don't want, and he drew up papers we both signed. Bennett came swimming with me a couple of mornings, and I went running with him on others. We eat dinner together—healthy meals he cooks for us—when we can.

We talk. A lot. Constantly. And are so fucking honest with each other, it's insane.

I haven't slept in his bed, and we haven't had sex in mine. We're still maintaining boundaries, but this friendship we've developed feels, well, like something that is almost so much better than a friendship. Even when I'm forcing myself to remain neutral and unaffected.

So this basket is messing with that a bit, but right now, I don't care.

Inside is a small teddy bear with a pink ribbon around its neck, a candle that says Light for Emergencies, Infused with Relaxing, Positive Vibe, two self-packaged chocolate chip cookies, two oatmeal raisin cookies—my favorite—two brownies, two blueberry muffins—also my favorite—and a bottle of Advil that makes me laugh out loud.

He's worried I'll have cramps, which is so damn cute I could die.

I open the lid on the candle and inhale. Lavender and vanilla—my two favorite scents.

Bennett sure pays attention. I'll give him that. It makes me think about how he replaced my bodywash with his. I haven't said anything about it, but I use it and I'm positive he knows that since every time he smells my skin, he groans and growls. I like smelling like him. I like that he wants me to. And no, I don't think too closely about either of those. I also snuck a bottle of my shampoo into his shower, and though he doesn't use it, I did notice that the cap was open on it the other day so he must smell it.

"Wow!" Michelle exclaims, snapping me back. "That's some sweet gift. Whoever this friend is, must really care for you."

I don't take the bait, even if that makes my heart go pitter-patter faster than it already was. I know that's not how things are between us. I know he's just a good man who cares and doesn't want our first failed attempt to get me down. If nothing else, it makes me smile, thinking of what a good dad he'll be one day.

"I'm assuming it's not Zane."

I shake my head. "Not Zane." Zane would never have thought something like this up or been as conscientious about it. Even when he planned my birthday weekend away that never happened, he was taking us to Vermont so we could ski—I suck at skiing and don't love it, and he knew that.

"Katy?! Did you hear me? You can't have that out?—"

"Cricket, go annoy someone else with your incessant noise. I'm moving it out of here. And because you're such a miserable, joy-sucking human, I'm not going to share my care package with you."

I give her a smug look and then take my basket toward the locker room.

When I get there, I shove it in my locker—thankfully it just fits—and then go to text Bennett.

Me: Thank you so much for the basket. You didn't have to do that.

Bennett: What basket?

I hesitate, squinting at the screen. Huh? If he didn't send it, then who the hell did? No one else knows?—

Bennett: Ha, gotcha, didn't I?

A laugh flees my lungs, and I find myself shaking my head. For a man who is so serious, he's becoming more and more playful.

Me: *eye roll emoji* Ha. Very funny. Yes, you got me. Now I'm not thanking you anymore.

Bennett: No sense of humor.

Me: Only when things are funny.

Bennett: If it wasn't funny, why are you smiling?

I search around, but I'm alone. My smile grows.

Me: How do you know I'm smiling?

Bennett: I know you, Katy baby.

The nickname is new. I've been baby and sweetheart—sweetheart is during sex, and for some reason, it's insanely hot to me—but Katy baby is when he's being fun or sweet Bennett. And I fucking love it.

Bennett: How are you feeling though? I saw your face this morning and I wanted to do something to make you smile and feel better.

Bastard. If he's not careful, he'll make me swoon, and he's firmly in no-swooning territory.

Me: Well, you did. I lost a patient too, so this really helped.

My phone rings in my hand, Bennett's name lighting it up, and I sigh. Perfect. Why does he have to be so freaking perfect?

I hit the green answer button. "Hey."

"Hey," he says in that gruff baritone of his that never fails to give me chills when he uses it just right. He sounds like he's walking, and then I hear a door open and shut. "I'm sorry about your patient. Are you okay?"

"Jesus wasn't even going to be able to save him. So yes. But still, that always sucks. His wife told me he likes to garden and plants her a new flower every year. I'm heartbroken for her."

"Damn. That is rough."

"Yes, but this basket is amazing."

"So are you. I hope you know that. Both as you and as a surgeon."

I blink, stare at the basket in my locker, and then slam the door shut. "How's your mom?" I ask, redirecting him. I inwardly sigh. I'm being ridiculous and need to remember to stop overthinking and overanalyzing everything. I punch in the code for my locker, remove an oatmeal raisin cookie, and then close it back up. Peeling off the foil, I shove a soft, gooey, cinnamony piece into my mouth and moan accordingly.

"Uh. She's good. Having her chemo. Um. Why are you moaning?"

"Sorry," I garble around the cookie as I swallow. "I had a bite of the oatmeal raisin."

He chuckles lightly. "Orgasmically good, huh? Since that's how you sound when I make you come."

"It is not!"

"It is too. Trust me, that sound is forever ingrained in my brain. I jerk off to the memory of that sound in the shower practically every morning."

My eyes flare, and my head whips around to make sure no one overhears that, even though I'm holding the phone up to my ear and I'm alone in here. "You do not!"

More chuckles. "I do. I even use your shampoo that somehow ended up in my shower so I can smell you as I jerk my cock. We haven't had a lot of morning sex, and I wake up hard as stone knowing you're just down the hall and I can't have you. Maybe I should start sneaking into your room and waking you up with my face between your thighs."

Heat ignites like a forest fire in my blood. "Bennett Lawson! You're fucking dirty." And getting me very wet. While I'm at work.

"Katy Barrows," he mocks playfully. "You make me that way."

I cover my mouth with my hand and abruptly stand, needing to move so I don't start squirming on the bench. "I'm riding the crimson wave. It's officially shark week in these waters."

"Next week then," he comments, unperturbed before he pauses. "Do you want me to come home tonight?"

I do. I shouldn't, but I do. So I don't even entertain it. "No. Your mom needs you tonight. She gets sick after her chemo."

"I hate the thought of you at the house alone tonight, though."

I start to pace around the changing bench. "I'll be fine, Bennett. I'm a big girl."

"I know. But I like being there when you get home."

"I'll take a bath and then watch a movie or read a smutty book."

"Without me? That's just torture. I suppose I have no choice but to get over it."

But will I?

"Are you reading to your mom?" I ask, once again redirecting us.

"Yep. Same book. We're almost at the conclusion."

"Do you think there's going to be an HEA?"

"HEA?" he questions.

"Happily ever after."

He scoffs indignantly. "I sure as fuck hope so. This couple has been through it. A surprise pregnancy, a crazy ex, some weird workplace drama, and some annoying insecurities broke them up for a bit. That was a twist my mother and I were not expecting. We thought they'd make it through without that. Why couldn't they just communicate like regular adults do?" He laughs self-effacingly. "You totally think less of me now, don't you?"

"Nope. Not even a bit." Actually, I think more of him. So much more. More than I should.

"Well, my mother is convinced they're going to have a HEA, as you put it, fuck each other crazy, and then we get the epilogue where they have the baby. She's excited to see if it's a boy or a girl."

Me too. Because I want to one day be able to tell his mom we're having one or the other. Or make Bennett's dream come true and tell her we're having twins. This thing has taken on a life of its own, but I don't have it in me to stop this train again. I'm riding it. Hell, I'm fucking conducting it.

But that doesn't mean I'm being stupid about it either.

"They better have the kid on the page."

"For real. I think that's a bit of a must. Even if the knocking-up part is my mother's favorite. Right now, with you, it might be mine too. Even if knocking you up isn't possible for a bit."

My belly swoops and my skin hums. "Bennett," I warn.

His voice drops, making delicious tingles snake up my spine. "Don't play coy, Katy. I know it's yours too."

I shake my head and bite the corner of my lip. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Lawson."

I can hear the smirk in his voice when he follows that up with, "Looking forward to it, Dr. Barrows."

He hangs up, and I leave our conversation, the basket, and the fluttery feeling both have given me in the locker room. I focus on my patients and end the day with a successful surgery that was complicated and required a lot of skill and time.

With the basket in my hand, I head toward the garage. The hot summer sun is still high in the sky, and I think I might barbecue and hang out in the backyard. I told Bennett this fall I want to plant some things back there. He hasn't done anything to it since he moved in and?—

"Cricket told me your new boyfriend sent you a basket." Zane's voice comes from behind me, startling me out of my reverie.

A scowl pinches my face. Fucking Cricket. She's such a bitch, and that's not a term I throw around at women idly. She knew it would piss him off. She knew he'd come after me because Zane isn't a guy who likes to lose, and she knew that would piss me off. God, why do some people have to suck so badly?

"So what? You thought you'd chase after me and see for yourself?" I shake my head as I keep walking, not even bothering to look back at him. "Go away, Zane."

He grabs my arm just as I reach my car door, stopping me. "So it's true then? You're seeing someone?"

"None of your business," I tell him, shirking off his touch.

"It is my fucking business!" he yells, the sound reverberating off the concrete. "I shouldn't have to hear about it from fucking Cricket."

I laugh at his over-the-top anger because that's kind of a good one. "And I shouldn't have had to discover you were cheating on me by walking in on you fucking two women in our bed. We don't always get what we want."

"Is he going to get you pregnant? I know you're worried your endometriosis could grow back, so you're wasting time with that when you don't have to."

"I'm all set with your stud services."

He grabs my arm as I open my car door and start to get in, the basket swinging and hitting him in the stomach. He looks down at it, and fury washes over his face. "You got your period, didn't you? Either that or you miscarried."

My eyes round. "What?"

"The basket." He studies it in my hand. "I can see it all now. A teddy bear, cookies, and fucking Advil. You're trying to get pregnant, but it didn't work."

"Fuck off, Zane."

"The basket is not from your uncle or even Owen or Vander. They would have signed the card. So who are you fucking that you shouldn't be? Who is trying to get you pregnant that you don't want anyone to know about? If your new boyfriend is the real deal, why wouldn't he stake his claim by putting his name on the card?"

"What makes you think the card isn't signed?"

"Cricket told me there was no name on it."

What in the absolute fuck is going on here, and how freaking close was Cricket to me? Did she comprehend any of this too? She doesn't know about my plans to get pregnant, so I hope not.

But Zane knows.

And if he discovers Bennett is who I'm trying to get pregnant with…

"It's from Keegan and Kenna."

He gives me a mocking glare. "But we both know it's not. Who's the guy who doesn't care enough about you to tell the world you're his?"

My heart starts to pick up a few extra beats, but I do my best to keep my tone bored and my expression annoyed. "It's your brother," I retort, and it's a dig. A nasty one. One I hope is powerful and bitchy enough to push him back. He and his brother don't get along at all, and his brother hit on me relentlessly when I went to his family's house for Christmas last year just to get a rise out of Zane. It worked. They ended up in a fight—an actual fight—over it.

He turns to stone. "Fuck you with that, Katy."

I smirk. "Nope. And never again." I get in my car and slam the door practically in his face. He steps back, his expression hard and determined, and I drive off with my heart in my throat. I have a bad feeling this could all blow up in our faces if we're not careful.