Page 31 of Ten Day Affair
“It’s everything.” The words escape before I can filter them. Before the threat of it being eliminated, I didn't realize how true that is.
He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets as he turns his face toward me. “Tell me why.”
Normally, I keep things like this to myself. But with him, in this moment, I want to say more. That’s what unsettles me—the fact that it feels so easy to fall into stepbeside him. My body remembers his touch even as my brain keeps a running list of reasons to stay guarded.
His fingers brush against mine. I’m not sure if it’s intentional or not, but the contact leaves a trail of heat, like a brand.
The air between us shifts. Sea salt, fresh-cut grass, and the ever-present scent of steaks on a nearby grill drift in on the breeze.
“When I was twelve, my mother started a program at the hospital that was unheard of. It was for outreach, advocacy, and fundraising for low-income families. She wanted to make sure medical care wasn’t just for the wealthy, which is only what people think about when it comes to Palm Beach. She made sure to emphasize that patients weren’t just numbers or dollar signs.”
"Wow. Thank you for sharing that."
I swallow. “They named the wing after her when she died.”
Cole’s shoulder brushes mine as we round the corner, our footsteps falling into rhythm without effort.
“She sounds remarkable.”
"She was." My throat tightens. Whenever I talk about my mom in the past tense, it still socks me in the gut, even though it has been almost seven years.
He lets the silence hang until I can swallow down the grief.
"It was cancer. Ironic, right? The oncology pioneer."
His hand brushes mine again, lingering a moment longer this time. The warmth of his skin against my knuckles sends a current up my arm.
"The wing is her legacy. And yours, it sounds like."
I glance at him, searching for the manipulative businessman I should see. Instead, I find something unsettlingly genuine in his expression.
"What do you know about it? Since you do the research, I mean."
"Financials. Patient demographics. Service statistics." His lips quirk up.
"Ah, yes. Of course. The business end."
"But nothing about why it matters to the surgeon who runs through the halls saving lives and calling out veteran doctors on their mistakes."
"Funny. To me, she was my mom. But she did a lot of really great things for this community. Since she's gone, for me, it's not just a building." I take a deep breath.
"Of course."
"It's the promise that healthcare isn't a luxury. That we won't turn away the single mother with three jobs and no insurance."
We're in front of my house now. The porch light hums softly, casting a glow that feels too intimate for everything we haven’t said.
The space between our bodies whirs with tension. My skin tingles, waiting for him to close the gap, to pull me in like before. That night, I was bolder. For some reason, tonight, I feel more vulnerable.
“I’m glad I saw you tonight, Sam. Thanks for letting me join you,” he says quietly.
The restraint in his voice is worse than rejection. It lands like a bruise across my chest, an ache with no outlet.
“I have an early day tomorrow, so I'll probably turn in.” My fingers find the railing leading up my steps. It gives me something to hold onto, something to hide behind.
He nods once. “What’s your schedule look like this week? Are you going to let me take you to dinner while I'm here?”
My heart kicks. He’s not talking about surgery.
