Chapter 24

24

F orest lost his absolute mind on me for about the hundredth time in a span of forty-eight hours. First with what our grandmother said about the engagement and his relationship with Tinsley, again when he learned about her stalker and that she's living with me, and the last time after she sang the National Anthem with my ring front and center.

"What's with the ring? Why the real fucking diamond, Stone?"

"Because I'm a Fritz and I can't have any fiancée of mine walking around with a cheap, fake diamond. It wouldn't pass, and right now, that's what she needs to stay safe."

It wasn't a total lie, even if it felt partially like one.

"Why are you even part of this? The only way you knew Tinsley was through me. None of this makes any sense, and I don't get it. It should be me she's living with, me as her fiancé. Not you."

I didn't know what to say to that because guilt sucks, so I said nothing, and it only angered him more until I told him point blank that the reason we were doing all this was for her safety. He couldn't argue with me after that, though he did try, and it did little to ebb his anger with me. I don't blame him for being upset. I'd kill me if I were him, and he's right to question me.

So I told him the truth. Tinsley isn't mine, and she doesn't want to be, and anything he's seeing is fake. I wanted to ask him why he's still holding on after all these years. Is he expecting her to come crawling back to him? Tinsley and I never talked much about Forest. He always felt like an out-of-bounds topic for both of us. But I have to wonder, does he still love her, or is his fixation with her something else?

My grandmother won't answer or return my calls. All I get when I text her, asking why she won't pick up the phone, is a smiley emoji. The woman is up to something. She never does anything off-the-cuff or without intention. This keeps up, I'm going to drive out to the compound and demand answers.

It was a media storm but containable until Tinsley went on national television with my ring on her hand front and center. Now it's a Category 5 cyclone. We have vans parked out front of the building and in the back too. Paparazzi littering the sidewalks. News outlets reaching out to us personally, as well as our "people" asking for statements and wedding dates and plans. There is a bump watch on Tinsley's fucking stomach, which inwardly makes me postal.

Watching a woman's body for physical changes is one of the most fucked-up things I can think of.

Add to that fun, Tinsley and I haven't seen much of each other in the few days since all this hit. She's avoided me for the most part, and I've worked long hours this week. She spends her days with Loomis and her security team on set, and I spend mine at the hospital. Our nights are spent on different ends of the apartment, with no middle ground between us. I cook dinner and make extra since I usually get home before her. Sometimes she eats it, sometimes she doesn't .

I may or may not get a thank you text for it since texts are our main form of communication, and even then, only when necessary.

I've gotten the impression she's mad about the ring I got her.

I had one of the family assistants take care of picking it up for her because there was no way I was going into a jewelry store to do it myself. That would have drawn too much attention. It should be fake. That's what Maria told me. But I couldn't do it. I shopped around online, and when I found the ring in a vintage jewelry store, I knew there was no other place for that ring than on her hand.

I didn't care about the cost. I would have paid anything for it. That was the ring.

I didn't want it to be fake or a lie like everything else between us is.

Tinsley is leaving in less than three months. It's a reminder that she will never be permanent in my life. This was my one shot to give her a piece of my heart, and it sure as fucking hell was going to be real. The only way I know she wears it is that she's photographed in it and obviously sang with it on.

It's only making the press more rabid for a photo of us together.

They're relentless, their coverage is over the top, and it's bleeding into every facet of my life. Like right now…

"You're Stone Fritz. I saw you on the news this morning."

Jesus. Not again. This makes the tenth patient or patient's parent today. I'm not even talking about yesterday or the day before or even while she sang the anthem, and they flashed the pictures of us together outside the hospital all over the screen.

"You're much better looking in person," she titters, shifting in closer to me, and I can't even with this. "Not that you're not gorgeous on camera, but in person, just wow." She fans her blushing face. "I feel like I'm watching a live-action soap opera or an episode of Friends where Joey is Dr. Drake Ramoray."

"Except I'm an actual doctor, you're in the emergency department of Boston Children's Hospital, and your daughter requires abdominal surgery for appendicitis."

"Mom, just get the picture," the daughter hisses under her breath, though there was no way I wasn't going to hear that. Despite being in pain, on morphine, and having been throwing up for the last two hours, she has been trying to get to her purse. Thankfully, it, along with her phone, are on the other side of the room. Her mother's, unfortunately, is right in her hand.

"Oh, yes!" The mother giggles and bats her eyelashes at me. "Can you say all that again? In that same gruff, sexy voice? I want to record it. My friend Cara is going to be so jealous that I met you. She's been obsessed with your family forever. Especially Oliver Fritz."

She holds up her phone, and I turn and walk out of the room before she can start recording.

Owen is standing outside the patient room, his lips bouncing in amusement. I called him down for a consult on this patient, and as far as I'm concerned, he can have her and her mother too. "You saw all that, didn't you?"

"You have some fans."

I roll my eyes, fold my arms, and sag against the wall. "How am I supposed to treat patients if they only see me as the future Mr. Tinsley Monroe?"

Owen snickers. "Actually, I believe the press have dubbed you Stoneley."

I groan. I didn't know that, and I wish I still didn't. "Remind me why I'm doing this again?"

"Because you're in love with a woman you shouldn't be who happens to be in danger and you're in a position to help keep her safe. Even if said woman is giving you the cold shoulder at the moment."

I grunt. For everything Owen just said and the fact that Tinsley is still in danger. The FBI took the envelope, but the only prints on it were Tinsley's from when she opened it. They didn't have much more than we did with the video from the warehouse and were able to confirm that Terrance Howard wasn't behind the letter. All things we already knew.

"Thanks for keeping it real."

"You mean because you're not."

"Ha! Funny. I think I liked you better when you were miserable and grumpy."

"Blame Estlin for making me happy and reminding me I have a sense of humor." He grins. "How's this? I'll take the super fan and her kid off your hands, and one day, hopefully, you'll either tell Tinsley how you feel or find someone to fall in love with?"

I smack his arm and push away from the wall, ignoring the second half of all that bullshit as I say, "They're all yours."

"Are you playing this weekend?"

By playing, Owen means in our hockey league that he, Vander, and I play in. I'm usually pretty regular when my schedule allows it, but over the last couple of weeks, I've missed our games.

"Hope so. Catch you later, man."

I meander back toward the nurses' station, grateful my shift is over. I sign out my patients and head out. For a few minutes, I sit in my car, debating if I should go home or figure something else out on this Friday night. The heat is blasting because it's unseasonably cold for the end of October. Halloween is next week, and the trees have all but shed their multicolored leaves. Fall is shifting into winter early this year, and I won't complain about it.

It's my favorite time of year in the city, but once January hits, I'm going to want to take a trip somewhere south. Somewhere warm. Maybe on Benthesicyme because it's been too long. I wonder if I can talk Tinsley into—nope! Not even gonna think it.

By January, this will all be over, and she'll be gone.

Maybe I should just sell the boat. I don't see how I can ever go back on her when?—

My phone rings through my sound system and Tinsley's name along with a picture of her singing the anthem with my ring on her hand pops up on the screen. It's as if my mind conjured her.

I smirk and answer, "First-time caller, long-time listener."

"Huh?" she replies, and I chuckle.

"Clearly, you're not a Boston's sports radio listener."

"Clearly," she deadpans.

"What brings you to my world, little rose? You haven't called me in… well, I don't think ever."

"Probably because I haven't, but this wasn't something I could easily text. Is now a bad time?"

"Not even a little. Now is perfect."

"Okay good." She blows out what sounds like a relieved breath, and I hate how uncertain and shaky her voice is with me. How cold and detached. We both said we'd keep our distance, and we have, but that distance is starting to get to me. She's right here, but she's also not. "We're on set, and I slipped, and, um, got hurt."

I shift, sitting upright as alarm flitters through me. "Hurt? Are you okay?"

"Uh, I think so."

" You think so ? How did you get hurt? What's the injury? Do you need the emergency room? Are you bleeding? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?"

"Stop with the fifty questions, Doctor."

"I'm worried. "

"You are?" she asks incredulously.

I roll my eyes though she can't see it. "Of course I am. You called me. It has to be pretty bad for that once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon to happen."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. It's not that bad."

"Okay." I tap the steering wheel, anxious to go to her. "What's going on?"

"We were filming a baking scene, and I slipped in the flour and twisted my ankle. I tried to brush it off, but it hurts when I stand on it, and Loomis reminded me that my fiancé is a physician. The director asked if I'd call you to see if you could come and check me out. I told him you're a pediatric doctor, but he didn't care. We're behind schedule. Again."

I grin like a bastard. "You hate that you had to call me, don't you?"

She huffs. "I'd rather have taken a cheese grater to my skin."

I laugh. "That sounds painful."

"Now you're getting it. But will you come anyway?"

I smirk wryly, never one to miss an opportunity with her. "For you? I always come."

"I know you do because, much like with Doe, you're a sucker for a sweet pussy. But seriously, I'm sorry to ask, and I'm sure you're working or busy, but?—"

"Stop. No need to explain. Text me the address, and I'll come take a look. As luck would have it, I'm done with my shift anyway." I would have gone regardless, but the timing couldn't be better.

"Thank you, Stone. That means a lot, and I'm very grateful."

I swallow down my flirty and sexy retort and say, "I'm glad you called. I'll see you soon."

I end the call, and a moment later Tinsley texts with an address, and I program my GPS and head that way. It's clear across town and over the bridge into Cambridge. I realize I have no clue what her movie is about other than she's filming it with Loomis, and I think it's holiday or Christmas-based.

As I approach the set, I follow the signs and park where it says visitor parking, and then I meander along, only for security to stop me.

"Sorry, sir, you can't go in there," the man wearing all black says to me without even sparing me a glance. I have no doubt he pushes tourists away all day.

"I'm Dr. Stone Fritz, Tinsley Monroe's fiancé. She fell and they called me to check her out."

Now I've got his attention, and his steady gaze drops to mine. I'm tall. Barefoot, I'm six-three, but he's got several inches on me. He eyes me, asks for my ID, and then speaks into a headset. A moment later, I'm allowed to pass through onto the set, and when I ask him where the hell I'm supposed to go, he says it'll be obvious.

It's not. There are three sets set up. Two outdoors that look like winter wonderlands, and one that's in a building where I assume they shoot the indoor scenes. I pull out my phone and text Tinsley, and after a few minutes, she hobbles out the door of the building, caked in flour with her hair piled on top of her head.

I snort out a laugh, and she flips me off.

"Don't make fun. I told you we're filming a baking scene. But here, look, you'll appreciate this." She twists to show me her ass, and she has two flour handprints, one on each cheek.

"I want to kill the person who got to put those on you."

She grins. "It was Loomis, but he went back to his trailer to call his mom since we're on break because of my ankle. Speaking of, can you check me out so we can finish up?"

She looks fucking adorable like this, wearing a red and white checkered apron with her hair twisted up into a messy bun and flour—whether real or movie fake—caked all over her .

"It's what I'm here for." However, that doesn't stop me from leaning in and kissing the corner of her lips. I'm her fiancé, and we're in public. Whether anyone here cares or not is a different story. "Just in case someone is watching," I tack on because she gives me a look. A look I hate. She's not amused that I kissed her.

I pull back and catch sight of her hand, but she's not wearing her ring not that I should be surprised. She's on set. I haven't seen the ring on her in person yet, and I can't help but be a little disappointed. With the way we've been avoiding each other, who knows when I'll get the chance.

I clear my throat. "Where do you want me to check your ankle?"

She gives me a wan smile and hobbles inside, wincing and bouncing, and what the fuck is this? Who let her walk around like that? I scoop her up in my arms, and she gives me yet another perturbed look, but she knows better than to fight me on it.

There are people everywhere in the background of the set, as well as a brightly lit stage-like area that resembles a large, high-end kitchen. "What's your movie about?"

"I'm a nanny, and Loomis is a billionaire single dad. It's an enemies-to-lovers rom-com."

I snicker. "Sort of like Estlin and Owen." She blinks at me, and I clarify. "Estlin was Owen's nanny, and he pretended he couldn't stand her for a while."

"Oh." She laughs. "I'm not sure I knew that. Wren never mentioned how they got together."

I follow the path she guides me, no longer fighting me carrying her now that we're inside the building. Having her this close, holding her in my arms, and feeling her tucked against me is the best thing I've felt all week. I'm an addict with her. Chasing small fixes wherever I can get them. Eventually, we reach the area where she points me to, and I set her down on a wooden bench, crouching by her feet.

She shifts to get comfortable, and I keep her injured ankle extended as she sits up and faces me.

"Hi," I say in a serious tone. "I'm Dr. Fritz. I understand you hurt your ankle?"

She rolls her eyes at me and points to her ankle. She's wearing a dress beneath her cute apron, and it slips up to her midthighs, but more than that, from this angle, I can see up it, and which draws my focus when it needs to be on her injury.

"Do you stare up the dresses of all your patients, Dr. Fritz?"

I beam at her. "Never. Not once. Wanna play doctor with me, though? Since I'm here to give you an exam."

She rolls her eyes yet again, but her lips twist into a smirk she's trying to hide. My girl likes to role-play. It's why she called me sir that night.

Her expression turns coquettish. "I slipped and hurt my ankle. Do you think you can help me, Doctor Fritz? It hurts so bad."

Fuck, do I love this woman.

"I'll do everything I can to help you. I'm going to put my hands on you now so I can examine you."

With that, my gaze drifts and snags on her swollen ankle. And it is swollen. To the point where it makes me frown, and all playfulness evaporates as I give her a thorough exam. I make her move it this way and that. Flex and extend. Wiggle her toes, rotate her ankle left and then right, and test her strength.

But after all that, once I've gleaned my diagnosis, I say, "I'm not sure I've gotten a full diagnostic picture yet. I might need you to spread your legs a little for me."

She blinks in that doe-eyed way of hers. "You think so, Doctor?"

"I do. I think you're going to need to relax your legs so I can make you feel better. "

Her knees part slightly on the bench, while her eyes stay on mine. I can't help it. I sneak a peek and groan when I catch sight of her black satin panties. "Does everything look okay, Doctor?"

"Everything looks perfect."

"I was worried this injury would require surgery."

"No surgery is required." I lean in and kiss her ankle. Right where she's hurt. "I think you did sprain your ankle though, but I haven't seen anything to make me think it's broken. That's said, small fractures are easily missed on an exam, and we should order an X-ray."

"Do you play this game a lot, Doctor?"

I glance up at her and tilt my head. Her sudden bitter tone surprises me. "How do you mean?"

"You have so many women fawning over you. The gorgeous and sexy Dr. Stone Fritz. I'm sure you play doctor with them a lot."

I blink, slightly taken aback. "I haven't been that guy in a long time, and you're the first woman I've ever played doctor with."

She squints, disbelieving. "Maybe so, and maybe not." She closes her legs and pulls her ankle away from me, twisting to sit sideways on the bench. "Thank you for coming to check it out. I don't need an X-ray. I think I'm okay."

"Are you, though?"

Before she can answer, her director is in front of me, introducing himself as Johnny and insisting I stay to finish out the scene. So I do, much to Tinsley's chagrin. I stand by the side as Tinsley, some kid, and Loomis throw flour around a fake kitchen. She doesn't spare me another glance, and I wonder how much longer I can take this distance until I snap.