Page 35 of Not Like Christmas At All
From down the hall, the elevator pings. Instinctively, we pull apart quickly, not wanting to get caught.
I round the desk, sinking into the chair, while Lincoln leans against the counter casually, pretending to read the file I abandoned.
“Doctor Stokes, have you checked in on the patient in room 602?” My eyes snap to his, voice lowering. “Come to mine instead. You can meet Pebbles.”
Nurse Edwin comes into view, smiling from ear to ear as she approaches the desk. “Good morning, Doctor Stokes! Nurse Nikolaou!”
“Good morning,” I greet just as cheerfully, forcing myself to focus on her, not Lincoln.
She busies herself with another stack of patient files, and Lincoln clears his throat. “I’ll check on that patient, Nurse Nikolaou. Thank you. I look forward to meeting her later.”
Pushing off the counter, he straightens his coat and winks at me before disappearing down the hall.
“Doctor Stokes is in a good mood today,” Nurse Edwin muses, not missing a beat.
I fight the smile tugging at my lips and reach for the tablet I’ll be using during my rounds today. Shaking off all thoughts of Lincoln, I wish Nurse Edwin a lovely day and head down the hall to my first patient's room.
The rest of the morning is normal—productive, even, but everywhere I go, Lincoln is there. Passing me in the hallway, standing too close as we share an elevator. The only time he’s not around is when I’m with a patient or hiding in the nurses’ locker room.
Yes, I’m hiding from him.
I have to—the amount of times I’ve wanted to fling myself onto him and kiss him senseless is embarrassing at this point.
When I finally have time to sit and take my lunch, I grab it from my locker and head down to the cafeteria. There’s an empty table in the corner, and it looks like the perfect place to decompress a little.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scroll through my mountain of unread messages, opening the conversation with Zee. Four texts await, each getting more irritated in nature.
COME AGAIN?
You can NOT drop a bomb saying “I spent the night with Lincoln” and follow it up with SILENCE.
Miller just confirmed what you said is true. YOU SLEPT OVER AT LINCOLN’S? HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME ON READ.
I’m going to assume you’re either dead or at work, and I swear if it’s not the former I’m going to put you in the hospital myself and make you wish you were six feet under. BECAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SLEPT AT LINCOLN’S? DID YOU SLEEP WITH LINCOLN?
“Care for some company?” Lincoln startles me, and I slam my phone down against the table so he can’t see the messages from Zee. “Whoa, Gen. Everything okay?”
“Peachy!” My voice comes out in an overexaggerated squeak, like Ross fromFriendswhen he’s trying to convince everyone he’s fine.
His brows furrow as he pulls out the chair across from me, settling into it. “How’s your day going?”
“You should know,” I tease. “You’ve been following me everywhere.”
His arms cross over his chest, and he leans back. “I can’t help it if you’re assigned to my floor today.”
“Mmm,” I murmur. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Lincoln stands abruptly, pulling his chair next to mine. My eyes widen a fraction, looking around the bustling cafeteria.
“Lincoln—” I warn, but it doesn’t come out very stern.
His hand finds my knee under the table, gripping it. “Would you prefer we refer to it as something else?”
“Someone will see?—”
“And?”
My breath catches in my throat. This is walking a thin line, and we both know it. But I can’t help but to lean in.
