“Actually, critical care. I was mostly in the ICU.”
There’d been a time when he’d known everything about what she was doing and learning during her anesthesiology residency.
They’d met and started a Dom/sub relationship at Las Palmas when she was in her first year of residency, started dating romantically when she was in her second year. Now she was in her final year of residency, and for the past two years he’d learned more about pain management than he’d thought possible.
It had been a long time since she’d say something along the lines of “Do you want to hear the difference between altering ion channel activity and sodium channel inhibition?”
He’d say yes, and then she’d launch into an explanation that always made him feel like a dumbass, even though he knew he’d taken both chemistry and biology in college.
“You didn’t tell me you were being an intensivist.” He was only about seventy percent sure that was the right word.
“I haven’t seen you much.”
Leon’s chest tightened. He hadn’t been home much—too wrapped up in his latest company. He was betting big with ahefty investment in a company developing new desalinization tech. Great idea, crazy-smart founders, but both of them were shit at the business side. And while a venture capitalist’s job varied depending on current investments, this job was proving to include a lot more coaching and mentorship than normal.
The distance between he and Cessie had grown over the last few months, little by little. He could feel it now, the invisible barrier that had slowly but steadily come between them, both of them retreating into their separate worlds.
He slipped off his shoes and dropped onto the couch, his knee almost touching her shoulder.
The weight of the silence between them felt less like a static wall, and more like an avalanche. A wall of blank whiteness barreling toward them.
His fingers brushed her hair, most of which was caught up in a tight bun, but a few strands had escaped near the nape of her neck.
“We could use a weekend away. Just the two of us. Tomorrow’s Friday, I can cancel meetings. We can leave as soon as you’re done at the hospital. We’ll go to Las Palmas.”
She turned a little and her eyes flickered briefly to his, but she didn’t respond right away. That hesitation—small but unmistakable—set him on edge.
“Cessie,” he pressed, his voice soft but firm, “it’s been six months since we scened. We need this. We always feel better after we go.”
She sighed and sat forward, the small strand of hair he’d been playing with slipping from his fingers.
“I can’t, Leon. I wish I could, but I just… I can’t. For the next few months, I’m either on call, or I’m flying home to Nevada to help my mom and brother with everything. It’s not just the weekends—this is my life right now. There’s no time for Las Palmas.”
She gestured at the coffee table, and he finally looked at the papers she had spread out there. A schedule with the hospital logo, her personal planner as well as a wall calendar. Printed flight confirmations. The fellowship applications she was working on for next year.
Colored pens and highlighters were scattered across it all. Her planner and the wall calendar were covered in lines of highlighter with matching text. Each day had at least two colors on it.
“What color are we?”
“What?” She turned to look back at him.
“What color are we?” He sat forward, scanning the calendar. “Blue must be work. Purple is… on call? Yellow looks like fellowship application work days. That means orange is going to Nevada. So what color are we?”
He kept his voice calm, but she flinched at his question, because they weren’t on there. Their relationship wasn’t anywhere on her list of priorities that he could detect.
She exhaled slowly, and he could see the fatigue in the set of her shoulders. It was like a punch to the gut.
“Cessie…” His voice was quieter now, almost pleading. “You’re going to burn out. You can’t keep going like this. You need a break, and we need it too.” He slid off the couch onto his knees beside her, his bulk pushing the table a little. Leon cupped her face in his hands, trying to get her to meet his gaze. “I’m not asking for a week in Paris. Just a weekend at Las Palmas. One night even. We go up Saturday come back Sunday. It’ll be good for both of us. I miss you.”
Her eyes softened, but there was still that edge of determination behind her expression. “I don’t need a weekend away, Leon. What I need is… more hours in the day. Even if we just went away overnight, I’d spend the whole time worried about the things I’m not doing.”
He swiped his thumb along her cheek before gently pressing it to her lower lip. “And that’s exactly why we need to go, because I can get you to a place where you forget all this for a little while.”
She softened, he saw the longing in her eyes, not just for the physical, but the emotional release.
Then her eyes slid to her calendar, and she tensed.
Fuck.
