Page 52 of Night Shift

Eventually, the preparation for the evening began in earnest. “Shower time! Let’s get all dolled up,” Bethany announced, leading the charge. We each took a long, luxurious shower, carefully cleaning and shaving our girly parts in an effort to be perfect for our dates that night.

The ritual of getting ready—from the careful selection of dresses to the meticulous application of makeup—transformed the condo into a bustling hub of activity. Marissa’s earlier joke about being a fairy godmother didn’t seem so far-fetched now as she started to work her magic on us.

As I stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and feeling the warmth of the water still clinging to my skin, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The bruises were there, a reminder of the ordeal I’d endured, but for the first time in days, I saw past them. Tonight, with my girls by my side, I was ready to face the world again.

“Here’s to looking fabulous and kicking ass tonight,” Marissa declared, lifting her wineglass in the air. “Let the transformation begin!”

Bethany and I raised our glasses and then each took a nice long draw of the sweet wine.

“Ready for the magic touch?” Marissa asked, brandishing a makeup brush like a wand.

I nodded, a smile spreading across my face. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay, ladies, let’s get glammed up,” Marissa announced, her focus turning first to Bethany. As she applied foundation and blended eyeshadow, the conversation flowed effortlessly. The laughter and chatter continued while we primped and preened, each of us transforming under the skilled hands of our self-appointed fairy godmother.

While she worked on Bethany, I admired the array of dresses laid out for us. Each one was stunning, chosen to suit our individual styles.

Bethany’s dress caught my eye first—a deep-red, strapless number that would fall just above her knees, perfectly complementing her figure and her vibrant personality. Marissa had selected a shimmering silver dress for herself. It had a daring backless design that spoke volumes about her fearless nature.

“I can’t wait to show off in these dresses,” Bethany gushed. “We’re going to turn heads for sure!”

“Definitely,” I agreed, admiring the long-sleeved, emerald-green dress Marissa had picked out for me. The fabric would perfectly hide the stitches on my arm. “Thank you again for bringing so many options, Marissa. These dresses are incredible,” I said, unable to keep the awe out of my voice.

Marissa, who was just finishing applying a smoky eye on Bethany, beamed and nodded in thanks.

“Wait till you see yourself in that green, Samantha. It’s going to be showstopping,” Bethany chimed in, standing to admire her makeup in the mirror.

Marissa moved on to me, steadily applying makeup with an artist’s touch. “Can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when we walk in. I bet there will be some interesting plus-ones at this gala,” she mused, blending eyeshadow on my lids.

“Yeah, the hospital gala won’t know what hit it,” I joked, my nervousness about the evening ebbing amidst the cheerful banter.

“Speaking of interesting dates, what do you think about Dr. Thorin’s latest arm candy, Dr. Sinclair?” Marissa asked, a hint of mischief in her tone as she stepped back to assess her work.

Bethany snorted. “Oh, please, like it matters. Everyone knows she won’t be around after tonight. Atticus doesn’t do repeats.”

“Exactly,” Marissa agreed, laughing. “Dr. Sinclair is this month’s flavor. I swear, that man goes through women like I go through coffee.”

Their blunt comments should have stung, but the truth in their words was undeniable. Atticus’s reputation was well-known, and I had no illusions about where I stood—or didn’t stand—in that equation.

“All right, let’s get dressed,” Bethany said, glancing at the clock. “We’re running behind.” Panic set in as we realized how late it had gotten.

In a flurry of activity, we slipped into our dresses, adjusted our hair, and grabbed our purses. We raced out the door and piled into the waiting Uber, our excitement bubbling over into animated conversation.

“I just want to dance and forget about work for a few hours,” Marissa said, leaning back in her seat.

As the city lights passed by, I had a surge of gratitude for these women by my side. Despite the undercurrent of drama with Atticus and the lingering effects of the attack, my heart was happy. Tonight was about celebration, friendship, and maybe just a little bit of healing.

Chapter fourteen

My heart raced as we got out of the Uber and headed for the revolving doors, our heels clicking on the pavement. Bethany, Marissa, and I had barely made it a few steps when I caught sight of Atticus and Dr. Sinclair.

They stood just ahead of us, engaged in what seemed like a casual yet intimate conversation. Vanessa was breathtaking in a floor-length red gown that complemented her tan skin flawlessly. Her thick, dark brown hair fell in perfect waves down her back. She was the ideal image of refined beauty. Atticus was beyond dashing in his dark bespoke suit that was obviously crafted to fit him perfectly. Every stitch, every seam, was tailored for his frame. The fabric, a deep shade of midnight blue, caught the light with his every movement, enhancing his already commanding presence. It was complemented by a crisp, white shirt and a tie that subtly echoed the darker hues of his suit, striking a balance between elegance and authority. His hair, usually a tangle of rebellious curls, had been styled to a neat, understated elegance, framing his face and drawing attention to the sharp angles of his jaw and intense winter-gray eyes. There was an air of effortless grace about him tonight, a natural charm as he stood at Vanessa’s side. Together, they resembled Hollywood movie stars who had stepped straight out of a glamorous red carpet event.

“Wow,” I muttered under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away from them. Jealousy seared through me, and I suddenly felt awkward, painfully aware of my short, borrowed party dress. I wasn’t even in their league.

Atticus caught me staring, dropped his chin toward his shoulder, and smiled at me with that game on look as he grazed his thumb over his bottom lip. His gaze drifted down to the tips of my shoes before quickly returning to my eyes. I was paralyzed. His scrutiny sent my anxiety spiraling as my bottom lip quivered. How could I have ever imagined he’d be interested in more with me? No, more had never been an option.

“Sam, don’t worry about them,” Bethany whispered, and I broke my fixated stare away from the man who’d forever changed me.

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