Tom frowned down at the insurance bill.

He had his mail delivered to his office at the firm, since he was there so much. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Ross that his last relationship had failed because of his job. Pulling an all nighter was a semi-regular occurrence.

“What’s wrong?” Enid asked, pausing on her way past his desk.

Tom had insisted that he continue to work. He couldn’t do some of the legwork that he was used to, like going to interview clients or witnesses or whatnot, but he could still do all the paperwork and internet researching, and he could still make all the phone calls. There was no reason for him to leave Enid and Adam high and dry for however long.

Besides, he’d go crazy if he just sat around at home all day.

Tom showed her his hospital bill. “Am I crazy, or does this say that my hospital bill’s already been paid?”

“Your insurance covered all of it?” Enid asked, taking the bill from him.

“It shouldn’t have, not from the insurance statement I got.” He couldn’t exactly afford it, either. He’d been worried about it, although he hadn’t said anything to Enid and Adam. They’d try to lend him the money, and then he’d just feel worse.

His salary meant he was comfortable, but he didn’t have a whole lot left over. He’d been planning on cutting back on a few indulgences, like no takeout for a month and bringing bagged lunches to work—cutting corners so that he could make sure he had everything covered.

The past two weeks had been a constant low-grade panic attack as he waited to get the bill, waiting to find out how much he owed. He’d tried to find out earlier, but he just kept being told that it was still “processing.”

But now the bill was telling him that the entire thing had been paid.

“Yeah, it looks like there was some money owed after insurance, but a single payment was made that covered all of it,” Enid said, examining the bill. “I’m not seeing any information on who or what paid it, though. Your parents?”

“I haven’t even told them yet.” He felt kind of guilty about that, but he’d been so busy trying to organize his life now that his leg was busted up. It was going to be an annoying couple of months, that was for certain. “And they couldn’t afford it, anyway.”

Enid hummed, handing the paper back to him. “Call your insurance, or actually, call the hospital. The payment probably went directly to them. Someone in administration can look it up for you. Just be prepared for a lot of red tape.”

“Dealing with a lot of red tape is literally my job,” he reminded her.

Enid smiled. “And that is why we love you. If you’ve finished with the Emerson file, I’d call now; they’ll probably be closed by the time you get off work.”

“Thanks, Enid.”

Tom went ahead and called right away. It took him a good twenty minutes to get to the right department, and then another forty minutes being on hold—he did some research for a case while he waited—and then another half an hour to get the person to find the correct file and understand that he wasn’t asking them to look into his insurance.

“Ah, here we go,” the woman said.

Finally, Tom thought, but didn’t say. Showing irritation was the number one way to not get what you wanted out of the employee on the other end of the line who, to be fair, was probably as sick of this as he was.

“Looks like a full payment was made to cover the amount by a Ross Carlyle,” the lady said. “Is that what you were looking for, sir?”

Tom felt kind of like he’d had all of the air punched out of his lungs. Sure, he’d never gotten Ross’s last name in all the confusion, but how many Rosses did he know? How many could it possibly be? And why the hell would a stranger pay for his medical bill?

It had to be his Ross. Not that Ross was his anything, but—

“Thanks for the information,” he said, putting on his customer service voice. “I really appreciate it. That was exactly what I was looking for. Have a great day!”

After hanging up, he was seriously tempted to bend down and put his head between his knees.

Ross had paid for his medical bill. Tom had seen the guy’s apartment, and his car—he was guessing that Ross could afford it. But why would Ross do that? And without asking permission, either?

Tom didn’t like the idea of being in someone else’s debt. Sure, Ross probably didn’t see it that way. He didn’t strike Tom as the sort of person who’d hold that over him. But it wasn’t like they were anything to each other, not really—as Tom had been reminding himself over the past couple of weeks. Despite the fact that his brain seemed determined to remind him about Ross at every opportunity.

If he and Ross had been dating, or been super close friends, and Ross had talked to him about it first, that would be one thing. Or if they were able to do big gestures like that for one another, that would be another thing.

If Adam had been the one paying for his medical bills, for example, Tom would still be upset, but not quite as upset. He and Adam were boss and employee, yes, but they were also friends, and they’d helped each other out. Hell, Tom had been one of Adam’s groomsmen at the wedding.

But he and Ross had only spent the one night together. How was he supposed to take this? Was it a romantic overture? Was this something that Ross was rich enough to do for all of his patients?

Tom didn’t understand it, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It felt kind of romantic, but Ross had said he didn’t do relationships. So what the hell was Tom supposed to do with this?

“Well?” Enid asked, walking over to the desk. “Did you find out who it was?”

“Yeah,” Tom said, because he couldn’t see any way to get away with lying, and maybe telling her would help him clear it up in his own head.

“Sounds like there’s a story behind it. Let me buy you lunch; I’ll bring it up to you, and we’ll eat it in the office.”

“Thanks, Enid.”

Once he told her the full story, Enid laughed. “I’d say that he likes you, Tommy boy.”

“He literally told me he doesn’t do relationships,” Tom said, stabbing his salad.

“That was before he slept with you. People can change their minds. Luke slept his way through half the guys in the state before he met Adam.”

“That wasn’t just him meeting Adam, that was losing his parents and having to take care of Seth. It wasn’t like he took one look at Adam and decided he was going to give this whole dating thing a try.”

“That’s what Matthew decided.”

Tom pointed his fork at her. “Even if he did decide that he wants to date me, he could tell me that to my face, or give me a phone call. It doesn’t mean he should cryptically pay my bill. That wasn’t his right, not without talking to me.”

“You have his number,” Enid said. “You could call him and talk to him about it.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t know where I stand with him. I don’t like that.”

“Well, you’re never going to know where you stand if you don’t ask him.”

It was a fair point, but Tom wasn’t sure if he was that bold. It had been an amazing one night stand—hell, it had quite possibly been the best sex of his life—and Ross seemed like a great guy. But was that really worth dealing with whatever Ross seemed to be going through? Was that really worth trying to be that “special someone" who finally made him want to “do” relationships?

Tom wasn’t the high school girl pining after the loner guy she thought she could change with her love. He wasn’t going to put himself through that.

“I’ll wait and see if he tells me,” he said. “Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s planning on sending a card or something.”

It didn’t seem likely, but it was possible. A big gift like that, surely if Ross intended to announce it, he’d do it with a card or something, right? He wouldn’t just send a text or something.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Enid said. “No need to rush into things. But if it’s another week and he hasn’t said anything, I’d call him out on it. You can’t let that shit lie if you don’t like it. And even if you did like it, I’d tell you to say thank you.”

“Fair enough.”

One week, Ross.

Then Tom would be calling him out.