“Dr. Bell!” My eyelids snap open, and I blink the fog away before realizing I fell asleep sitting up on the couch in the lounge again. Olivia, one of the ER nurses, stands in front of me with a stack of charts. I give her a sheepish smile, then take the charts from her hands before heading to the ER.

I’ve wanted to become a doctor since I was five years old. Dressed in scrubs, I took my toy doctor kit to career day in kindergarten. My eighth-grade presentation was on healthy heart rates and blood pressure. In high school, I wrote a twenty-page paper for my senior final on why I wanted to become a doctor and how I was going to achieve my goals.

Being in this profession is in my blood especially since my dad’s a top-ranked fertility doctor in Houston. Only the wealthy elite who want to get pregnant see Dr. Bell. He has the highest success rating in the country, and couples from all over book appointments months—sometimes years—in advance. I’ve idolized him for as long as I can remember, but that doesn’t mean it’s been easy living in his shadow.

My older sister, Annie, is an OB/GYN with an eighteen-month waitlist. She followed in our dad’s footsteps, and they often share the same patients. My younger brother, Daniel, is in medical school but wants to become a plastic surgeon. He’s already been accepted into a residency program once he graduates. However, as an adrenaline rush junkie, I wanted a more exciting specialty. After my residency, I got my license in emergency medicine and started my fellowship in Houston. I don’t think anything could’ve quite prepared me for working in the emergency room other than diving in head first.

Saving a life is the biggest high I’ve ever felt. I experience it each time an unresponsive patient starts breathing, or their heart beats again. There’s nothing in the world like it, and though doctors are constantly on their feet and are married more to their jobs than their significant others, I wouldn’t change anything.

It’s been twenty-eight hours since I started my shift. I’m on my sixth cup of coffee, and I’m ready to collapse. New Year’s Eve always brings out the dumbasses who drink themselves stupid and think they can fly off the roofs of cars. Then there are the ones all cut and bruised from getting into bar fights and black out before they’re even admitted.

“I’m taking twenty,” I tell one of my interns, Georgia, so she’ll cover me in the ER. I need to splash some water on my face and grab a drink. “Room fourteen needs discharge papers,” I remind her before grabbing my phone from my pocket and walking toward the elevators.

Checking for new messages, I click on my boyfriend Justin’s name and see he hasn’t responded to the text I sent six hours ago. It’s not uncommon for us to go days without speaking because he’s a doctor, too. We both work eighty-hour weeks and spend our dates in the cafeteria catching up.

For most people, dating a doctor would be hard, but since we both understand the commitment and hours it takes, it works. We met during my first year of residency, and he was a second year OB/GYN resident under my older sister. They’re both working their way up to become fertility specialists, so there’s usually plenty to talk about during our rare family dinners. Justin and my father easily get wrapped up in conversations for hours. I love that about him. He looks up to my dad just as much as I do.

Once I’ve used the bathroom and grabbed a fresh bottle of water from my locker, I head toward the labor and delivery floor where I know Justin is on call tonight. I’ll probably get less than five minutes with him, but it’ll be the most I’ve seen him all week.

“Hey, Miranda!” I smile at one of the nurses sitting behind the counter at the nurses’ station, and she smiles back. “Have you seen Dr. Hayes lately?”

The corner of her lips falls, and her eyes widen. “Um, no. Not for a while.” She swallows before licking her bottom lip.

“Okay. I’ll check his office; maybe he’s napping between patients.” I chuckle.

After finding his office empty, I decide to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. As I walk down the hall toward the elevators, something in my gut tells me to look in the on-call room. We used to have quickies in there when we first started dating, but now we use our spare time to sleep instead.

I turn around and head toward the other hall. Noises come from behind the closed door, and as I step closer, I hear moaning and bodies slapping together. Figuring I don’t want to interrupt, I spin to leave but freeze the moment I hear his name.

“Justin! Yes, yes!”

My eyes widen, and blood drains from my face.

That can’t be right. I must be hearing things. I’m sleep deprived.

Yet I walk back and press my ear to the door.

“You greedy whore. You like that, don’t you?” The voice is deep and familiar. Before she can respond, a loud smack echoes. The woman giggles as another smack rings in the air.

Now I know, without a doubt, Justin’s in there. With another woman. He always spanks my ass when he’s trying to hurry things up.

Most women would cry at a moment like this, but I’ve learned to push my emotions back for so long that I’m not even sad. I’m fucking pissed.

With my ear close to the door, hearing him fuck her, I figure I have two options right now. I can walk away and pretend I didn’t hear a thing, living obliviously to the fact he’s probably been cheating on me for a while, or I can barge in and catch the rat bastard in the act. Knowing Justin’s love for my father, he’ll tell me it meant nothing. Or that it’ll never happen again. Or it was a one-time mistake. Whatever bullshit he tries to feed me, I won’t be eating it.

I like to think of myself as a nice person. I’m caring and thoughtful, and sure, I have my moments, but right now, I’m sleep deprived, hungry, and PMSing. Not to mention, I haven’t had sex in over a month, yet this asshole finds time with another woman in the same damn hospital we work in. I think “nice” Emily isn’t the version Justin’s about to see right now.

Twisting the knob the dumbass didn’t even bother to lock, I push the door and watch as it opens. Justin is bare ass naked as he bends a girl over the bed. They’re both moaning, not even realizing I’m standing in the doorway watching. My jaw clenches when I watch his fingers grip her hips as he slams harder inside. His eyes are closed, and I can tell he’s close by the tight expression on his face.

Eyeing their clothes piled on the floor, I formulate a plan. Timing it just right, I wait for the perfect moment to make my presence known. His hands shift to her shoulders, pushing in deeper, which means he’s seconds away from release.

“I hope you wore a condom,” I blurt out. Both of their heads turn toward me as their bodies freeze. “I’d hate to see another STD breakout.”

“Emily.” Justin’s voice is strained as he tries to catch his breath.

“Oh my God,” the girl squeals, twisting her body so she’s standing behind his tall frame.

I step into the room, invading the space. The smell of dirty sex fuels my anger even more.

He places his hands over his junk. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” Yep. Called it.

“Oh really? Is having sex with patients a special form of fertility treatment? A new kind of sperm donation? Or an alternate payment plan?”

“It’s not like that,” he insists, taking a step backward as I move closer.

I purse my lips, nodding as if I actually believe his bullshit lies. The girl looks terrified, as she should be, but Justin looks like he’s trying to put out a fire with alcohol. Absolutely clueless.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me what it’s like then?” I challenge, knowing he’ll come up short.

“Just let Isabel go, and we can talk this out.” I cringe when he says her name.

“Hmm…” I ponder, eyeing the distance from their pile of clothes to the door. “I don’t think so. However…” I quickly bend down and scoop up their clothes, pressing them to my chest as I walk to the door. I feel his cell phone and pager in the pocket of his scrubs. “You two can spend all the time together you wish!” I smile as I back out into the hallway, knowing he can’t chase me without being seen.

“Emily!” he shouts, rushing to the edge of the doorway. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Oh, I’m ridiculous?” I muse. “Perhaps you should’ve thought about that before using your dick as her personal egg fertilizer.” I flash a smug grin and walk away. He shouts my name as I round the corner and walk toward the elevator.

The moment I step back into the ER, I ditch their clothes into one of the soiled baskets and get back to work.