Page 23 of Careless Whisper

I avoided her after that and never told Elias about the conversation. It seemed too ridiculous to talk about. But maybe I should have because when it all fell apart, Elias had chosen her version of the truth over mine.

“Did you harm a patient to get at Maren? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

They weren’t togetherthen, but they were now.

The ache in my heart settled deeper.

He’d been in Seattle and Harper Memorial for three months, and in that time, I’d lost my footing, my OR privileges, and most of my peace of mind.

I was happy before he came here. And now…I didn’t know who I was in that hospital anymore. I didn’t know if I could keep walking those halls with my head high when everything around me felt like it was tipping.

I thought,maybe I should take my parents up on their offer. I should go to Mexico and run the clinicand do work that mattered without having to fight tooth and nail for every inch of respect.

But the thought of leaving my life in Seattle, my hard-earned career as a surgical nurse, without fighting back, well, that tasted too much like defeat and I was no loser.

CHAPTER 8

Elias

We were seated at a window table at Barolo Ristorante, just off Sixth Avenue.

With its moody lighting, leather-bound wine lists, the scent of truffle oil in the air, and a waiter who spoke with an authentic Italian accent—I always felt I was in Milan and not Seattle when I came here.

When Maren insisted we go out for dinner after she’d accused me of being rude to her the previous night when she came to see me, I booked Barolo. I enjoyed the food and ambiance, and I knew Maren would like it as well.

She looked good. She always did. Polished, composed,expensive.

“Have you thought about my offer?” Maren asked, tilting her wine glass and arching her eyebrow in a way that made her question sound rhetorical.

“I’m considering it.”

Maren wanted me to work with her on a clinical study. My father wanted me to be a co-author on the paper she’d write eventually.

I didn’t want to do either.

Her mouth curled into a faint smile. “About just the study or…?” She put her hand on mine and dropped her voice to a husky whisper, “We also talked about getting back together.”

Before I left for Seattle, Maren and I ended up in her bed. It hadn’t meant a damn thing except we had been drinking, and it was convenient.

The whole point of having friends with benefits was that we’d remain friends regardless of the benefits. But that night ended up with her yelling at me for only wanting her body, and since then, she’d been pressuring me to be more than a friend.

We used to date, then broke up. Since then, we’ve had sex on and off—except when one of us was seriously seeing someone.

I hadn’t slept with her when I was with Reggie, even though I’d not considered us to be dating seriously.

Could it be anything but casual if you were fucking each other in on-call rooms and closets?

Reggie and I hadn’t gone out on dates. Did eating at a taco truck after a shift count? She rarely stayed over at my place, which was closer to the hospital. I hadn’t even been to hers. And, yet, she’d carved a place in myheart, my soul.

If she hadn’t been an immature child who thought she needed to handle Maren, would we still be together?

“Maren, we’re friends.” I patted her with my free hand and pulled away from her touch. “I’d like for it to remain that way.”

Before she could take me to task for that, our server returned with our orders. She was having the lobster risotto while I’d gone for my tried and true gnocchi.

Once our wine glasses were refilled, Maren doubled her efforts. “Our parents would like to see us married, Elias. You know that.”

“I’m not interested in getting married,youknow that.”

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