“You’re clearly making as if nothing happened at the gala.”
“Exactly,” Bette said. “Things got a little out of hand and it’s over. Nothing we need to talk about.”
“Nothing?”
“No,” Bette said matter-of-factly. But it wasn’t true. Of course, it wasn’t. Whatever had happened between them was a big, fat tangled mess Bette had no idea how to untangle.
Emily’s nostrils flared. “I should’ve known,” she said, pain flashing in her eyes.
Pain that Bette had caused and even though she so badly wanted to grab Emily’s waist, draw her nearer, smell her hair, she just couldn’t. Wouldn’t. The decision was made, and she was sticking to it.
“I should’ve known you’re the type to chase what you want and once you got it, you just move on. Act like it never happened.”
Bette didn’t let herself flinch. The last thing she needed now was to let her guard down. “Doctor Sharp,” Bette said, the words ice cold as she gestured to the treatment table once again. “I need to focus on your shoulder. It’s the reason you are here, remember?”
Emily didn’t move, and for a heartbeat, Bette thought she was going to push back—maybe Bette even wanted her to pushback—but then Emily’s shoulders sagged, resignedly, and she nodded.
“Alright.” Her fingers worked the buttons on her blouse. She slipped it off and tossed it onto the nearby chair before she slid onto the table with the same grace that she always did, except this time there was stiffness in the way she moved. A tightness that told Bette everything she needed to know.
Emily was no doubt pissed off.
Still, Bette didn’t allow herself to linger. She didn’t look into the softness of Emily’s green eyes or at the soft curve of her collarbone. She didn’t think about the heat of Emily’s breath on her skin or the delicious touch of her fingers between her thighs.
She focused only on the job.
“Your shoulder,” Bette started, feeling the range, way too aware of Emily’s soft, silky skin beneath her fingertips. She cleared her throat. “Is progressing well. As you’ve mentioned in previous sessions, your pain is improving, and your range too. If you keep up with the exercises, we could look at getting Meissner that letter of recommendation he needs to get you back into the OR.”
Emily just grunted.
Bette stole a quick glance and sighed, moving onto the next shoulder position she was testing. In a few short weeks, she could send that letter and close this chapter for good.
10
EMILY
“Why are you staring at your phone?” Tessa asked, slumping into the living room. She took up the seat on the couch beside Emily and angled her body so she could get a better look.
Emily, on the other hand, refused to deviate from her position where she was curled up against the armrest, her phone resting on a pillow, waiting for the screen to light up. “Doctor Meissner is supposed to call, remember?”
“Oh,” Tessa said, looking bored. “I thought you were waiting to hear from Bette Bridge, the woman who rocked your world and then pretended it never happened.”
Tessa knew everything. She knew how badly Emily had wanted to spot Bette at the gala, how relieved she had felt at the time. She knew how Bette had kissed her as though she meant it, how she had touched her like she wanted her… And then the audacity, the sheer gall, to act like it never happened, as if it should never have happened.
But that didn’t stop Tessa from teasing and rubbing salt into Emily’s wounds. Not that she did it to hurt her. On the contrary, Tessa believed in the power of humor to heal her wounds.
“She didn’trockmy world,” Emily said, shifting uncomfortably, hugging her knees closer. “And no, I’m waiting for Doctor Meissner to approve my request to PTs.”
“Why?” Tessa frowned, tilting her head.
“Because Bette made it very clear that our sessions together from now on will be a massive inconvenience for her,” Emily huffed, remembering their last encounter.
Bette had also made it crystal clear that Saturday night had been a huge, colossal mistake and that it should never have happened. Which frankly just wasn’t the truth.
Bette had enjoyed herself; Emily was sure of it. And if she was lying about it now, well, that stung the most. Not the rejection, but the dishonesty beneath it, the refusal to accept accountability for something that had been both their decisions. The way Bette had touched her—with intent, with want—that wasn’t a mistake.
Which was exactly why Emily was waiting for that call. She’d put in a formal request to transfer her physical therapy sessions to someone external, someone far away from Oakridge. Normally, the hospital had a network of pre-approved PTs, but since Emily wanted to go completely off the grid, she had to jump through a few extra hoops.
If only Dr. Meissner could hurry up and approve it, she could finally put Bette Bridge in the rearview mirror.
