Page 51 of Wistful Whispers
I stare at him, trying to piece together what the fuck is happening here.
Then he takes a step back, hands still in his pockets, like he hasn’t ripped apart everything I’ve ever believed about myself. “All bets are off once you get the settlement for Miranda, though.”
My stomach plummets.
I’ve been the dirty secret. The side piece. The one you fuck, not the one you keep.
I’ve never been the woman men fight for.
Seamus doesn’t look at me with shame.
He looks at me like I’m wanted—fully, publicly, dangerously.
My brain tells me to stay sharp.
My heart and soul want to believe him.
sixteen
Seamus
Three Weeks Later
Threeweekssincedinner.
Three weeks replaying every word we said. Every word we didn’t.
I dumped more honesty than I’ve ever let anyone know.
She offered truths buried deep enough to permanently scar—and eviscerated me in the process.
We haven’t spoken since.
Aside from a handful of emails about the case, of course. Certainly not about our confessions. Or what it all means.
Which is a problem. A huge, gut-twisting, life-altering problem.
Whatever’s brewing between us—it’s not small. It’s not casual. It’s a goddamn tectonic shift. I’m not going to let it pass me by.
I’m also not ready for it.
Clearly, given the lawsuit, the timing couldn’t be worse. Plus, my most brutal years of residency are ahead of me and once I’m through school, I’ll be building my practice from the ground up. If I work my ass off, maybe I’ll be half as successful as Marcella by the time I’m pushing forty.
For now, I’ve been arriving in the lab before dawn and I’m the last to leave at night. Making up for the weeks lost to the lawsuit. I’m grateful for the distraction—the routine. The past seven months have been a whirlwind. Finding out my mentor was a snake. Signing the settlement. Wondering if my career will suffer.Marcella—there’s too much noise in my head.
I’m trying to quiet it by keeping busy.
It’s the only thing I know how to do. Throw myself into work like my life depends on it.
In some ways, it does.
Until this nightmare is over with Caldwell, my entire life is in limbo. The last I heard, his lawyer was making scheduling impossible. I could ask Marcella for an update. I want to. I’m trying to respect the boundaries I set the night we had dinner.
For now, the less I know the better. If the case goes to trial, I’ll likely be the star witness.
Grabbing my coat from the closet, I flex my shoulders and decide I need caffeine if I’m going to make it through the afternoon. Lab-coffee sludge won’t do, I need the good stuff. There’s a cafe across the street from the hospital with the strongest espresso I’ve ever had. I plan to inject it straight into my bloodstream and take some with me for later.
On my way back, with both coffees in hand, I nod to a few colleagues, trying to force my mind to focus. Hoping for an update from Marcella, I decide to swing by the lounge to check my emails before I head to the lab.
