slowly, placing my hands on the curve of my hips. “I’m talking about the girl you’ve been fucking behind my back. Need me to be more specific?”
He’s trying to speak, but he stammers. He’s lost his cool and collected demeanor. He’s fumbling over his words like a criminal who’s just been cornered. James eyes the door.
“That’s right,” I say, nodding to the door behind me. “Get out while you can. Get out before I call HR and tell them you’ve been charging your romantic dinners, weekend getaways, and luxury hotel rooms to your company credit card. I found the receipts in your email, James.”
“You wouldn’t do that.” He’s too sure of himself, and that only makes me want to turn his world upside down even more.
“Why would I do you any favors? You were about to ask me to marry you while you were fucking Miss USA behind my back. And did I read that one email right? Are you buying a house with her?”
“You’re crazy, Lauryn.” He rolls his eyes, heading to the door.
“Right. I’m the crazy one.” I laugh an admittedly maniacal laugh, but it makes me feel lighter. Or maybe it’s the fact that James is leaving. That makes me feel lighter. “I’d be more than happy to show you crazy, James. I really hope you weren’t counting on your fourth quarter bonus, because as soon as HR finds out about your con-artist ways, you’ll be losing that too.”
James says nothing, which is almost disappointing because I want to keep going. I want to take everything out on him, call him every name I can think of, and make him feel tiny and worthless and undesirable. Instead he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
It’s all dissatisfying and anticlimactic. I wanted a brawl. I wanted to spit my words into his face and slam my fist against his chest.
I back away from the door, my breath slowing back to a normal pace.
And then I smile.
I smile because I’m free.
I smile because I never even knew I was a prisoner in the first place.
Thank you, Colette. Thank you universe. You just saved me from the mistake of a lifetime.
SIXTEEN – SUTTON
“Dr. Cawthorn at five o’clock,” one of the nurses tells me as I finish charting at the nurse’s station. She stifles a grin, and I know exactly why. Dr. Cawthorn has wanted me since the day she met me, and she makes no bones about it. She looks at me with a fierce, almost terrifying determination.
Our schedules vary and contrast, but every once in a while she fills in for one of her partners or her rotation falls on a weekend, and we bump paths. I never should’ve fucked her years ago, but I was new in town and she was attractive and we’d had too many drinks after a long shift. It was a one-time mistake, and one that I’d been paying for ever since.
“Sutton,” she says, slinking up next to me. She smells like expensive perfume and her lips are coated in dark pink lipstick. She flips her coffee-brown hair over her shoulder, letting her gold bracelets clink as they fall down her wrist. She’s always dressed to the nines under her lab coat, at least when I see her. She’s the only doctor I know who delivers babies in scrubs and Gucci heels. They don’t call her “Dr. Chic” for nothing.
“Corinne,” I say, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I hand my paperwork to the nurse and turn to head down the hall. There’s a gentle padding of her heels against carpet as she chases after me.
“Wait up,” she calls out. I stop. “Are you hungry at all? You want to go downstairs and grab a bite in the cafeteria?”
She can’t get a real date with me, so she’s constantly trying to con me into having dinner with her on work time.
“I’ve got to get some sleep,” I say. I press on, heading to the on call room. She follows. I give her a polite half-smile before slipping in and shutting the door. I take a seat on one of the beds and pull my shoes off.
The door flies open, presenting Corinne with a devilish grin on her face.
He’s trying to speak, but he stammers. He’s lost his cool and collected demeanor. He’s fumbling over his words like a criminal who’s just been cornered. James eyes the door.
“That’s right,” I say, nodding to the door behind me. “Get out while you can. Get out before I call HR and tell them you’ve been charging your romantic dinners, weekend getaways, and luxury hotel rooms to your company credit card. I found the receipts in your email, James.”
“You wouldn’t do that.” He’s too sure of himself, and that only makes me want to turn his world upside down even more.
“Why would I do you any favors? You were about to ask me to marry you while you were fucking Miss USA behind my back. And did I read that one email right? Are you buying a house with her?”
“You’re crazy, Lauryn.” He rolls his eyes, heading to the door.
“Right. I’m the crazy one.” I laugh an admittedly maniacal laugh, but it makes me feel lighter. Or maybe it’s the fact that James is leaving. That makes me feel lighter. “I’d be more than happy to show you crazy, James. I really hope you weren’t counting on your fourth quarter bonus, because as soon as HR finds out about your con-artist ways, you’ll be losing that too.”
James says nothing, which is almost disappointing because I want to keep going. I want to take everything out on him, call him every name I can think of, and make him feel tiny and worthless and undesirable. Instead he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
It’s all dissatisfying and anticlimactic. I wanted a brawl. I wanted to spit my words into his face and slam my fist against his chest.
I back away from the door, my breath slowing back to a normal pace.
And then I smile.
I smile because I’m free.
I smile because I never even knew I was a prisoner in the first place.
Thank you, Colette. Thank you universe. You just saved me from the mistake of a lifetime.
SIXTEEN – SUTTON
“Dr. Cawthorn at five o’clock,” one of the nurses tells me as I finish charting at the nurse’s station. She stifles a grin, and I know exactly why. Dr. Cawthorn has wanted me since the day she met me, and she makes no bones about it. She looks at me with a fierce, almost terrifying determination.
Our schedules vary and contrast, but every once in a while she fills in for one of her partners or her rotation falls on a weekend, and we bump paths. I never should’ve fucked her years ago, but I was new in town and she was attractive and we’d had too many drinks after a long shift. It was a one-time mistake, and one that I’d been paying for ever since.
“Sutton,” she says, slinking up next to me. She smells like expensive perfume and her lips are coated in dark pink lipstick. She flips her coffee-brown hair over her shoulder, letting her gold bracelets clink as they fall down her wrist. She’s always dressed to the nines under her lab coat, at least when I see her. She’s the only doctor I know who delivers babies in scrubs and Gucci heels. They don’t call her “Dr. Chic” for nothing.
“Corinne,” I say, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I hand my paperwork to the nurse and turn to head down the hall. There’s a gentle padding of her heels against carpet as she chases after me.
“Wait up,” she calls out. I stop. “Are you hungry at all? You want to go downstairs and grab a bite in the cafeteria?”
She can’t get a real date with me, so she’s constantly trying to con me into having dinner with her on work time.
“I’ve got to get some sleep,” I say. I press on, heading to the on call room. She follows. I give her a polite half-smile before slipping in and shutting the door. I take a seat on one of the beds and pull my shoes off.
The door flies open, presenting Corinne with a devilish grin on her face.
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