MATT

Let’s be perfectly clear: everyone knows what just happened in that bathroom. Dr. Richards is the only one who still thinks I’m having stomach problems. As I take Bailey’s hand and lead her back to her sister, he rushes over to me with water and some antacids he found in his wife’s purse. Sweat drips down his forehead as he presses a hand to his stomach. “Now that you mention it, I don’t feel so good either.”

Bailey has to stifle her laugh with a poorly executed coughing fit, and I tug her along before she can blow our cover.

“Really?” I chastise, unable to wipe the satisfied smirk off my face.

She shakes her head and covers her smile. “I can’t stop.”

She’s giddy from her post-orgasm high. At least that makes one of us. I’m still so hard, a soft brush of her hand across my crotch and I’d be a goner. It’s pathetic. I need to get the hell out of here. My mission is done. I came, I saw, I conquered. Well, I did the second two.

“People are still staring at us,” Bailey hisses under her breath.

“Huh.” I sound bored. “Are they?”

“You know they are,” she says, wrapping her free hand around my forearm, shielding half her body behind mine. A few minutes ago, she wanted away from me as fast as possible. Now, suddenly she can’t get close enough. It’s the best case of whiplash I’ve ever had.

“Just smile and look confident. They’ll move on. Look, Dr. Goddard and his wife are over there making fools of themselves. No one even cares about us anymore.”

It’s true. Dr. Goddard is stamping his foot and insisting the children “stand in descending order by age, not height” for their photo with Santa while his wife shouts back angrily. Still, half of the room remains laser-focused on us. I should probably let go of Bailey’s hand. It’s not helping matters. Instead, I tighten my grip.

“Just to be clear,” she says, leaning in and dropping her voice so only I can hear. “Holding hands right now is as good as getting on a loudspeaker and announcing to everyone that we’re a couple. If you want to be discreet about this, I’d let go if I were you.”

“I’m not letting go,” I reply confidently.

Her mouth forms a perfect O.

I lift my chin. “Are you changing your mind?”

“About what just happened in that bathroom?” she quips, lazy smile back in place.

“About agreeing to give us a try.”

She laughs. “Ooooh, I didn’t realize that’s what was happening back there.” I shoot her a teasing glare and she wiggles her fingers against mine. “Fine. Okay! Yes! Let’s give us a try, but if it doesn’t work out, you have to tell everyone I’m really good in the sack and super smart and that I left you.”

She’s teasing but her words still sting.

She tries to catch my eye, but I tug her along. “C’mon, it looks like Josie finished her book and there’s a group of boys trying to talk to her.”

“Oh good! Scare them all off, will you? She’s not allowed to date until she’s 40.”

I was worried about how people would treat Bailey after our little show. I probably should have given her the choice about where and when she’d like to inform people about our relationship, but…well, things happen. Our plan was to leave soon after getting back to Josie, but there were too many people eager to hear news about June and her recovery. I hadn’t even told Bailey the best of it: June tested positive for motor and sensory function this afternoon. She’ll still need physical therapy, but I have no doubt she’ll regain normal use of both legs. I watch Bailey’s face as I tell this to the group of surgeons crowded around us. Her eyes well up and she forcibly swallows as if that might keep her emotions at bay. I want to wrap my arm around her and tug her close, tell her she has as much to do with June’s recovery as I do, but my colleagues crowd in like a tidal wave, eager with questions.

I play at politeness for a little while, appreciating how sour Dr. Goddard’s face is every time we make eye contact from across the room. Dr. Richards and Dr. Smoot are quick to amend their original stance on the subject. “We didn’t have the forethought you had, Dr. Russell.”

With the amount of press coverage from the case, New England Medical Center won’t be hurting for surgical patients any time soon.

As the night continues, I give Bailey every opportunity to break free and save herself. She could go hang out with the other surgical assistants or find her sister, but instead, she stays by my side. My colleagues notice. They try to be sly about it, but they’re definitely inspecting how close we’re standing. They pay careful attention when I whisper something in her ear and Bailey smiles. A few of them even toss her a question or two about June’s case, and to Bailey’s credit, she doesn’t cower. She lifts her chin and holds her own in a group of egotistical surgeons, every bit as confident as the day I met her.

No one asks about our relationship outright. I think they’re minding their business because they know better than to pry.

Bailey thinks that’s hilarious and informs me they’re actually whispering nonstop behind our backs, but no one is brave enough to ask us directly if we’re dating because they’re terrified of me. I smile at the thought. There is one person who’s brave enough to address the elephant in the room, though.

Patricia walks by at one point with a plate of desserts in hand. She pauses beside us, drops her chin, and stares pointedly over the brim of her glasses at our joined hands. Then she emits a half-interested hum and keeps walking. That’s it.

“I swear she smiled a little,” Bailey insists, watching her walk away over her shoulder.

“Patricia? I’m not sure she knows how to smile.”

The snow’s still coming down hard when we finally manage to escape the party and I insist on driving Bailey and Josie home. Bailey’s conspicuously quiet in the passenger seat. Her hands are wrapped around her purse and I can see the edge of a present sticking out of the top—my present. Josie, meanwhile, sits in the middle of the back seat, doing her best to catch up on all the changes in the last few hours. For every question a colleague of mine suppressed at the party, Josie asks five.

“So you two are really dating now? Like it’s Facebook official?”

“I don’t use Facebook,” Bailey replies quickly. “But sure, yes. Can’t you go back to reading now?”

“I finished my book. Harry’s back at Privet Drive for the summer. So, Matt, can I call you that? Or do I have to call you Doctor?”

I laugh. “Matt’s fine.”

“Right. Matt, have you had many serious girlfriends in your life?”

“A wife.” I meet her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Does that count?”

“A WIFE?!” Josie acts outraged, and I have to stifle a laugh as Bailey drops her head in her hands and groans.

“Why don’t you just let us out here?” Bailey suggests. “Yes, this is fine. We’re only, what, four miles from our house?”

I ignore her and give Josie a CliffsNotes version of my relationship with Victoria.

“So it was ages ago?” Josie asks once I finish.

“Ages,” I confirm.

She nods and leans forward so her head hovers between Bailey and me.

“Well, Bailey here hasn’t had a serious boyfriend ever. Have you told him that, sis? Seems like something a guy would want to know before he commits.”

Bailey reaches to unlock the car, presumably so she can leap to her death on the highway, but I’m too fast at re-engaging the lock.

“As a matter of fact, Josie”—I grin—“she hasn’t.”

Josie nods. “Yeah, I mean if I were her age and had only ever dated—how many guys is it, Bailey? Two?”

“THREE,” she corrects, crossing her arms and staring out the window. “And I’m no longer participating in this conversation.”

“Right, I mean three’s not that many. Hell, I kissed three boys in kindergarten alone.”

I have to fight down a surge of laughter.

It continues like that the whole way to their house. Josie’s got the innocent act down pat, but I’m confident she knows exactly how to torment her sister. It reminds me a lot of how Cooper and I act when we’re together.

After a few detours because of heavy snow, I eventually make it to their house and pull into the driveway.

“Want to come inside for some hot cocoa?” Josie asks excitedly.

I glance to Bailey, wondering what she wants me to do, and to my relief, she smiles and shrugs.

“I was going to suggest the same thing, but she beat me to the punch.”

When we get out and walk up the path, Bailey takes my hand before I can take hers. We’ve done so much hand-holding tonight I should be sick of it, but I’m not. I can’t remember the last time I just wanted to hold on to someone like this. It feels silly, and yet I can’t stop doing it.

We kick off our shoes in the foyer and Bailey turns to her sister.

“Josie, why don’t you go make the hot cocoa? I’m going to talk to Matt for a second.”

“Okay! I’ll pick a movie too!”

Bailey smiles weakly as her sister skips into the kitchen. “Sorry, you probably didn’t think you’d be hanging out with a teenage girl tonight.”

“I happen to think she’s funny.”

Bailey rolls her eyes. “Well, whatever you do, don’t tell her that. Now c’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

If possible, their house has even more holiday decorations inside of it than it did the last time I was here. The Christmas tree we walk past is covered with so much tinsel it’s in danger of tipping over. There are a few gifts under the tree—not nearly as many as I had growing up. I narrow my eyes, trying to see if any of them are addressed to Bailey, but she tugs me along before I can get a good look.

“The carpet is old and stained. Ignore it. It’s from the 80s, and we only made it worse when we fostered a dog for like three weeks last year. It didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t handle raising Josie and a puppy who wasn’t housetrained. I mean, Josie barely is,” she quips with a smile.

If she thinks I’m looking at her carpet, she’s insane.

“Now this,” she says, patting the wall with a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “This here is grade-A wood paneling.”

“Fancy,” I say with a smile.

“You can’t just get this type of high-end finish in any ol’ house.”

I laugh and step toward her so I can wrap my hands around her waist and match her step for step as she continues walking backward to her room. “What about the 70s-style wallpaper in the bathroom up ahead?” I ask, nudging my chin toward it.

She pats my chest teasingly. “The pinkest, most ugly thing you’ve ever seen.”

We arrive at a door beside the bathroom and she reaches behind her to turn the handle, her eyes staring up at me while she does it. “Are you ready to see the main attraction?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

I grin and push us forward until her door opens wide and I’m standing on the threshold of Bailey’s bedroom.

The first thing I notice is the twin bed. I have to stifle a groan. Really? A twin? I haven’t had sex on a twin bed since my freshman year of college—not that we’re about to have sex. Yet.

She follows my gaze and bites her lip. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to upgrade. Also, not to further disappoint, but it’s hard as a rock.”

I nod and drop my hands as I move past her, anxious to uncover the secrets of Bailey Jennings.

In lieu of a nightstand, she’s stacked pre-med textbooks beside her bed so she can rest a glass of water and what looks to be a half-finished copy of When Breath Becomes Air—a book I read the day it released—on top.

“You’re judging,” Bailey accuses, crossing her arms by the door.

I step farther inside and turn in a slow circle. “I’m not. Really.” I glance at her with a smirk. “It’s only fair. You got to snoop around my room when I was passed out drunk. Now I should get to do the same.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “Actually, I didn’t. I was too scared of what I would find in your bedside table.”

“There isn’t anything too terribly shocking. A pack of condoms.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Some ball gags.”

She chokes out a laugh, and then her eyes widen and she jerks her head out into the hallway.

“Oops.” I’m not used to having to watch what I say. “I don’t think she heard. Also, for the record, I’m kidding.”

Bailey lets me take my time looking around her room. I browse through her books (she has good taste), test out her bed (rock hard, as promised), and then stop short when I realize there’s not much else. Her walls are bare. Her bed doesn’t even have a headboard. Her box spring is sitting on the floor.

Josie shouts from the kitchen that the hot cocoa is ready and Elf is cued up on the TV.

“Not one for interior decorating?” I ask as we step back out into the hallway.

Bailey deflects. “Haven’t really had the time.”

I don’t quite buy her answer, especially when we pass Josie’s room and I see it’s stuffed to the brim. She has two bookshelves fully stocked with what looks to be the entire contents of the teen section at Barnes & Noble. Posters of One Direction and some guy named Ansel Elgort cover the wall above her bed. She has a little writing desk, and a bean bag, and a blue and white striped rug.

It confirms everything I already know about Bailey.

When we arrive in the living room, Josie has confidently claimed the middle of the couch. She has a blanket over her legs, a bowl of popcorn on her lap, and her mug of hot cocoa cooling in one hand. The remote is poised in the other, aimed for the TV.

“C’mon, you two,” she says impatiently.

“Josie, why don’t you scoot over,” Bailey suggests, waving to the left side of the couch.

Josie’s nose scrunches in protest. “What? But you know I like sitting in the middle. The cushion has a nice little indention from my butt.”

“Josie,” Bailey hisses, obviously trying to convey something to her sister, which the fourteen-year-old completely misses.

Her bottom lip juts out. “But I like being in the middle.”

So that’s that. Bailey and I are forced to sit on either side of her. I fight back a laugh as we lock eyes behind her head.

“Sorry,” Bailey mouths, shooting me a defeated half-smile.

I reach my arm along the back of the couch and brush my thumb back and forth across her shoulder.

“Quiet!” Josie insists. “The movie is starting!”

The irony is that Josie herself talks through the whole movie, pointing out her favorite characters and explaining to me why certain jokes are funny then looking over to see if I’m laughing too.

I chuckle because there’s nothing else to do. This night is nothing like I thought it would be.

I catch Bailey glancing over at me every now and then. There’s tension between us, and during slower parts of the movie, I can’t help reliving moments from the party, specifically every second we spent in that bathroom together. I fidget in my seat and lean forward to take off my coat.

Then I stand to get water and Bailey shoots to her feet to join me, explaining to Josie that she needs to show me where the cups are.

“Okay! I’ll pause it.”

Bailey laughs. “Oh good.”

Their kitchen is right off the living room, small and just as dated as the rest of the house. Bailey walks over to a cabinet and reaches up for a cup and I come up behind her, hands on her hips, turning her slowly toward me.

Her eyes widen in shock then her gaze darts toward the living room. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

In response, I tip my head down and kiss her slowly. My mouth claims hers and my hands curve around her ass, tugging her toward me until our hips meet. Fuck. I need her.

Our kiss turns hotter as I try to convey every ounce of torment I feel, but then Josie’s voice carries into the kitchen and we leap apart.

“Hey!” she shouts. “Could you bring me some water too, please?”

Bailey whirls around to the cabinet and grabs another glass. “Yes! Got it!”

Obviously, I don’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. My focus is on Bailey. Every little move she makes, every time she smiles or laughs. I’m hypnotized, worked up, and slightly annoyed Josie’s bedtime isn’t 8:00 PM.

I suspected the snow was piling up outside, but I’d put it out of my mind. Once the movie is over and the mugs of hot cocoa are sucked dry, I face the fact that I probably can’t drive home. The three of us stand at the door, staring out at the driveway. A thick layer of snow covers my car.

“You shouldn’t drive,” Bailey says, tapping on the glass. “Look at how icy the walkway is.”

“Yeah, I bet the roads are just as bad. You’ll just have to stay here.” Josie nods before turning to look over at us. “But, wait, where will he sleep?”