Page 7 of Sticky Situationship

“And how’s that working out for you, exactly? No strings attached, aside from the regular fucking, of course?”

My fingers curl into fists. But the worst part is, he’s right. I can still remember the minute I tossed out the offer that first night, the way it hung in the air between Libby and me, and the bitter taste in the back of my throat.

Because in that moment, two undeniable truths landed in my gut. First, that the irresistible woman I’d just met would take me up on the offer. And second,casualwith a woman like Libby would ruin me. I’m not a casual sort of guy, and to this day, I don’t know what possessed me to suggest it as an option, other than maybe I could tell it was the only way to see her again.

When I don’t answer, Jake sinks onto the gripped steps of the engine in the next bay and stretches out his legs, crossing them casually as if he's got all the time in the world. “And this agreement,” he continues, “it prevents you from seeing other people, right?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. He’s got his facts wrong. “That’s not one of the terms.”

“Then why, my friend, have you—an attractive, single, twenty-something with a clean record, a respectable profession, and a steady paycheck—not been on one date since the day you met Libby?”

“That you know of.”

He leans forward and sets the tablet on the concrete floor, suddenly all ears. “You’ve been on a date I don’t know of?”

I consider lying for exactly two point two seconds before I push away the thought and begrudgingly mutter, “No.”

“But you don’t have feelings for Libby?”

There’s not a man alive who could spend even a fraction of the time I’ve spent with Libby, a man who could watch her come undone beneath him, and not feel something for her. Feel loads of things for her. Just not love. “I didn’t say I don’t have feelings for her. I just said I don’t love her.”

“Because it would breach the terms of your agreement.”

“No,” I insist, much too loudly and entirely too quickly.

Jake’s blond eyebrows raise as I stammer to explain. “Because…because…” But I can’t finish my thought. Because the truth is, if I loved Libby, I’d be on a one-way road to heartbreak.

From day one, my brilliant, irresistible neighbor was crystal clear on what she wanted. And what she didn’t. And a boyfriend, hell, arelationship, was at the top of the second list. Libby is laser focused on her training. She’s a driven, high-achieving, detail-oriented Type-A personality who will stop at nothing to pursue her dream.

And I don’t blame her. I just don’t want to think about what will happen when she finishes her residency and is ready to move on. When she’s done with me.

My shoulders drop, and just like that, my anger is gone, evaporated into the biting, dry winter air.

Jake presses off the step and squats across the hose from me on the concrete floor.

“Suggestion for you?” he offers, his voice devoid of the smart aleck tone.

I heave a sigh. “Sure.”

“If you want to change lanes, you need to signal first.”

Libby

Morning rounds are usuallyan hour, sometimes two. Today, we’re pushing three, and my stomach is growling, despite the foul combination of astringent antiseptic and stale cafeteria coffee in the air. My friend Zoe and I, along with the rest of the residents on our rotation, converge around our next patient’s bed.

Dr. Novak, our no-nonsense attending, stands at the foot of the bed, her hawklike dark gaze sharp and unyielding. Despite a tough love approach and terse bedside manner, her knowledge of medicine is unmatched. I’ve learned as much from her in the past few months as I did in four years of med school.

The patient, a heavyset eighty-six-year-old with a perplexing combination of presenting symptoms, peers at the six of us with suspicion.

“Given the patient’s fatigue, intermittent claudication, and non-healing ulcer on his anterior longitudinal sulcus, whatwould be your next step?” Dr. Novak’s eyes sweep over the lot of us and come to rest on me. “Dr. Bauer?”

Damn.I take a deep breath, running through my textbook knowledge and what I’ve learned on-the-job during my residency.

“Well,” I start, buying myself a few seconds by leaning in for a closer look at the ulcer before straightening. “Considering the symptoms, I would start with a CBC to check for anemia or infection along with an MR angiography for a better view of the blood vessels.”

Dr. Novak arches a thin brow expectantly as if waiting for more. An awkward silence falls as the other residents shuffle until Dr. Hanson, across the patient’s bed from me, chimes in. Because of course he does. “Perhaps a detailed vascular examination, including an ankle-brachial index to assess for peripheral artery disease, would be more appropriate. If the index is abnormal, further imaging, like a…duplex ultrasound, could assist with an evaluation of the extent of arterial involvement.”

Dr. Novak purses her lips and gives him the slightest nod. “Well done. I concur. Write it up.”

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