Page 12 of Sticky Situationship

I knew Brock lost his dad, just as I did when we were both in our late teens. But I didn’t know that man had been married to Dr. Novak. Clearly.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” Wrinkles crisscross Brock’s forehead as he glances between us.

“She’s my attending physician,” I reply at the same time Dr. Novak chimes in, “Dr. Bauer is one of my residents.”

And because this moment isn’t insane enough, she adds, “A verypromisingresident,” and looks pointedly at me.

I swallow, unsure what to make of her statement. So instead, I turn to Brock. “Why didn’t you tell me your mother oversaw a residency program at Manhattan General? You know I’m a medical resident there!”

He flinches at my outburst, but at the moment, I’m too distraught to care.

“I didn’t know that. I figured you were at Central Park West,” he replies, naming the hospital only four blocks west of our building.

A logical conclusion, I suppose. And, now that I think about it, I can’t remember a time when the exact hospital I’m at came up. Plus, what are the chances that out of all the residency programs in Manhattan, I’d be placed at the one where my hot firefighter next door, no-strings-attached lover’s mom would be in charge? Slim to none.

“Plus,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me either way.”

For a moment, I ignore Dr. Novak’s keen glance. I have a more pressing concern to address. “Just like it doesn’t matter that you have a girlfriend?”

My tone is harsh, snippy even, but I don’t care. I know our agreement was always no strings attached, but I didn’t think Brock was seeing anyone else. And the more the idea settles in my chest, the deeper it cuts. Like a razor-sharp scalpel twisting in my side. But I have only myself to blame.

“I…uh,” Brock starts, looking uneasy. Probably because he’s been able to keep the fact a secret for the past few months. And now, the truth is out.

My fingers clench into fists tight enough to turn my knuckles white. And I keep going because it’s better than breaking down.

“Well, it’s been fun while it lasted,” I stammer, fighting back the tears threatening at the back of my eyes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I scoop up the articles of my clothing within reach and spin toward the door, ignoring Brock’s feeble attempt to explain as I grab my keys and phone from the counter.

“I need to go study. Dr. Novak, I’ll see you in the morning. Brock,” I say, not bothering to glance back, though I feel his towering presence approaching from behind. I turn the doorknob. “This is goodbye.”

Brock

I’d rather be anywherebut here, standing outside my mother’s apartment in Chelsea, tempted by the smell of roast beef wafting into the hallway. My stomach growls, but if I thought my mom would buy any of my excuses for skipping Sunday night dinner, I’d turn around and hightail it home to my cold, empty apartment where the only dinner waiting for me is the untouched lasagna I ordered the other night, still sitting in my fridge..

But she wouldn’t. Not after what she witnessed.

Plus, she may have answers. To questions like,How’s Libby doing?orHas she asked about me?Questions I’m dying to ask, even if they reveal how bad I have it for the physician next door. Even if I have to endure the third degree from my mom and sister tonight.

My mother’s the lucky one. Surely, she’s seen Libby, talked to her even, since four days ago when the girl I fell for stormed out in front of both of us. I haven’t so much as caught a glimpseof Libby in the hallway or the lobby. And definitely not, as she warned, in my apartment.

At least, I didn’t bring the roses. No, that bouquet didn’t last ten minutes after what happened. The minute my mom left, I marched the flowers to the trash chute at the end of the hallway and dropped them in, glass and all, not bothering to wait for the usually satisfying thud that echoes up when trash lands in the dumpster. Nope, I walked away, just as Libby did.

The elevator dings, and I turn to find my little sister emerging, snowflakes still clinging to her hair. When she see me, she lights up as if she’s seen a celebrity. “I’m surprised you showed up.”

“Like I had a choice.”

Her eyebrow hitches at my grumbled response, but Charlotte still wraps her arms around me for a tight hug before pulling back to study my face.

“Man, this girl really did a doozy on you, didn’t she?”

I heave a sigh. I didn’t even make it inside before the inquisition begins. “How much did Mom tell you?”

“Not nearly enough.”

She would say that.

My mother, with her impeccable timing, swings open the door. “I summarized the key details for her.”

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