Page 72 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
"She was showing me my heart music!"Megan exclaims, bouncing on her toes.
Dr.Harrison watches our interaction with a smile that reminds me so much of Adam it makes my chest ache."Eve has a real gift with children," he tells Wes."She's got Liz shadowing her with all our pediatric patients now."
I blink in surprise."I do?"
"You didn't notice?"Dr.Harrison chuckles."Liz's been taking notes on your approach all week.That color-coding system you developed to keep track of the kids' symptoms?She's implementing it."
"But I only showed her once, I wasn't trying to—"
"Mentor her?"Dr.Harrison finishes for me."Sometimes the best teaching happens when we're not even aware we're doing it."He gives me a knowing look."You've been a real asset to this team, Eve.More than you realize."
The praise makes me simultaneously want to stand straighter and hide under the exam table.In Chicago, recognition usually came with strings attached—expectations to exceed, bars constantly raised higher.
"Thank you," I manage, as Megan tugs on my scrubs.
"So will you come?"she persists."To see my Santa hat?"
Wes gives me an apologetic smile."You don't have to—"
"I'll try," I hear myself say, surprising all of us."If my shift ends on time."
Megan's face lights up in a way that makes me understand why Adam can't say no to her."Promise?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep," I tell her, definitely not thinking about the one promise I didn't keep."But I'll really try."
“Oh, and there’s the tree lightning tonight and the caroling in the park tomorrow and did you hear about the dog parade?”
Wes tilts his head with a smile.“Okay, pumpkin, let’s go.”
After they leave, I stand in the empty exam room, staring at my reflection in the window.The nurse looking back at me seems different somehow.Less tightly wound.More...present.
Dr.Harrison pokes his head back in."By the way, Nurse Foster," he says casually, "my wife mentioned you might be joining the book club."He smiles, reminding me so much of his son I have to look away."And I want you to know I’m happy I hired you."
He steps away before I can ask him why.
Last night, I broke my own rule.For once, we were on the same schedule.
So, when Adam came in from his emergency shift, I saw the exhaustion etched in every line of his face.The words slipped out before I could stop them: "Come to sleep."Such a simple invitation that felt heavier than my medical textbooks.
We didn't have sex.Just sleep.But somehow waking up with his arms around me had me sleeping better than I have in years.
Now I'm at the desk, wrapped in his hoodie that he handed me when I shivered.A gesture so natural it scares me.I focus on patient charts, trying to ignore how his scent surrounds me, how my body still remembers the weight of his against mine that first night, and how hard I've been working to maintain boundaries since then.
This clinical approach isn't working.My diagnostic skills appear useless when it comes to the condition I'm developing: acute Adam Harrison attachment syndrome.
"Tree lighting's tonight.You coming?"His voice breaks through my concentration.
I barely glance up, afraid my face will betray me."I can't.I have plans."
He leans against the doorframe, deliberately rolling up his sleeves.I can't help tracking the movement, the flex of forearm muscles.
"Not playing fair," I mutter, forcing my attention back to the charts, but my fingers have stilled.
"Plans?"His voice holds amusement.
I lift my chin, strands of hair escaping my messy bun, tickling my neck."Yep.Huge night.Very important."
"Oh?"
