End Game

by Emily Goodwin

  “Aren’t you wearing one?”

  “No, this is a swim coverup.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t get the difference.”

  “This one is a little see-through.”

  “I didn’t even notice and I’m always checking you out.”

  I laugh and grab the beach bag. “Okay, that’s good enough for me then.”

  “Walk in front of me,” he says with a smile. “Let me check out this see-through dress.”

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” Archer asks once we’re seated for breakfast. We’re on an outdoor patio with the resort pool on one side and the ocean on the other. I cannot get over how pretty everything is here.

  “Beach time, a couple’s massage, and then a luau. It’s supposed to be really good according to what I read online.”

  “I’ve never had a professional massage,” Archer says as he looks over the menu.

  “You’ll love it.”

  “What exactly does it mean ‘do a couple’s massage’ over a regular one?”

  “We’re just next to each other. Usually you do the same things, but mine has to be altered since I’m pregnant.” I glance at the drink menu. “Order a mimosa for me. I just want to smell it.”

  Archer laughs. “I can do that.”

  I look out at the ocean, watching people drag kayaks through the sand and into the water. There were a few things I couldn’t do that I wanted to—like kayak and go horseback riding—due to being pregnant. There were mixed reviews online about whether it was safe or not, but Archer and I decided or err on the side of caution.

  “So, the fellowship,” I start, looking down at my menu. “Have you thought about it at all?”

  “Nope.”

  I put the menu down. “Really?”

  “Really. I meant it when I said we shouldn’t think about work. Let’s focus on us and how fucking amazing it is here.”

  I smile and nod, wondering how I can focus on us when I don’t know where we’ll be. I don’t want to be away from him.

  “Us. Right. Well, we are doing the perfect Quinn and Archer vacation with food, sleep, and sex.”

  “It’s the perfect relationship,” Archer says with a smile. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re a total hottie.”

  I laugh. “We are good together and—” I cut off, hand flying to my stomach.

  “Are you okay?” Archer starts to get up.

  “Yeah. I felt a kick. Like a real kick.” I move my hand, feeling it again. “Whoa. That’s weird. But cool.”

  “You know the whole process of conception and birth fascinates me.”

  “Oh, I know. You had me watch that Miracle of Life video with you like we were in a middle-school sex ed class.”

  “You never watched the end.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to see someone give birth until after I have.”

  “That might be a good idea,” he laughs. The waitress comes to take our food order. When she leaves, silence falls over the table. I’m trying hard not to think about the fellowship, and I have a feeling Archer is too. But he’s right not to bring it up.

  We’re in paradise together with no responsibilities. The week will be over before we know it, and then it’s back to reality.

  “You’re looking a little red,” Archer tells me, setting his book down. We’ve been on the beach for a while, and I moved out of my shady spot inside the cabana to soak up some sun.

  I sit up, readjusting my floppy hat. “I’m feeling a little warm.” I stretch and go back into the shade next to Archer and grab the sunscreen. Archer takes it from me and rubs it on my shoulders. “Want to walk in the water with me? I’ll cool off and we can explore the beach a bit.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s get something to eat first.” He grabs a bottle of water and hands it to me. “You need to make sure you stay hydrated.”

  I twist off the cap and take a long drink. “You too, mister. You might be used to not taking care of yourself, but I won’t allow that on my watch.”

  “Thanks, babe.” He takes his own water and finishes it off. I stick his book in my bag and move it deeper inside the cabana. Taking only my phone and wallet with me, we go to a walk-up tiki hut-themed bar that serves snack foods as well as alcohol. We bring the food back to our reserved space.

  We sit close together, cuddling up after we’re done eating. Being with Archer feels so right. This is how we were meant to be.

  Together.

  Which makes not knowing what Archer wants to do about this fellowship hover above me like a dark shadow. Refusing to let it darken my mood, I get out my phone and take selfies of us together, and then snap a few pictures of the beach to send to Mom, who’s been texting me all day asking for more photos.

  Archer and I walk along the beach for a while, and then I lay out a bit more, careful not to overheat. We go back to our room a few hours before dinner to shower and get ready.

  I stay in the bathroom to blow-dry my hair, and when I come into the room, Archer is already asleep.

  Smiling at how he looks both sweet and sexy at the same time, I grab my phone and take a picture of him before carefully getting into bed next to him. The balcony doors are open, and the sound of the ocean below lulls me to sleep.

  I wake up before Archer, needing to pee. When I get back into bed, I can’t fall asleep. My phone is on the mattress next to me, and I go through the photos we took today while at the beach. I upload my favorite to Instagram and send a few more to my mother.

  I log back onto Instagram to check and see who’s liked my photo so far. Instead of putting my phone down and turning off my mind, I open an internet search and look up information on the fellowship.

  The particular hospital in Boston is one of the best in the nation, and I’m all the more proud of him for getting in. It hurts my heart to think of us being separated, but this is his dream. I don’t want him to regret this, years later or to resent me or Emma for keeping him from following this path.

  If he wants to go, I’ll have to be okay with it.

  23

  Archer

  “Are you doing all right, babe?” I ask Quinn, wondering if the sun is getting to her like it’s getting to me. Though judging by the distance between us, she’s doing just fine.

  She stops, turning around and holds up her phone, taking pictures of our surroundings before taking one of me.

  “I’m fine, just like I was the last time you asked me. You’re a slowpoke.”

  I laugh. “You ran up ahead.”

  “I thought I saw a ferret.”

  “They’re mongooses. Mongeese? They were brought here to help control the rat population but took over.”

  “Well, they’re cute. I want one.”

  “I think they’re mean.”

  “They just want love.” Quinn puts her phone back in her bag and holds out her hand. I take it, lacing our fingers and pulling her in for a kiss. We’re hiking today, on our way to see a waterfall. It’s hotter today, and the comfortable breeze is gone now that we’re in the thick of the woods. Still, being here with the love of my life is good for my soul. I didn’t know how much I needed this until we got here.

  Quinn makes it easy to enjoy life. To laugh and smile. To be happy. She’s distracting, which is good because I’m having a really hard time not obsessing over the fellowship. We’re on day three of our vacation, and other than Quinn bringing it up at breakfast, nothing more has been said about it.

  Though I know we’re both thinking about it.

  Part of me didn’t think I’d actually get in. It’s an extremely competitive program, and after not hearing back for several weeks, I assumed I hadn’t made the cut.

  And it was a relief.

  I could pick and choose my job—to an extent—from there on out. There are enough hospitals around Chicago that I’d get something, and Quinn and I could raise Emma together like we want to. We could talk about looking for a new place, maybe even one in the suburbs with a yard.


  But if I go to Boston…I don’t know what will happen. It’s only temporary, but two years is a long fucking time. I don’t want to be away from Quinn for two days, and Emma…I’d miss so much if I were in Boston. We’d see each other as much as possible, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same.

  Getting the fellowship and becoming a trauma surgeon has been part of my long-term plan since I got into med school. I want to do this, and I know I’ll love working trauma.

  “There’s another one!” Quinn whisper-yells. “Come on, you have to admit it’s cute.”

  “It’s not hideous.”

  She laughs and starts forward again. We made it another few yards before I slow to a stop.

  “Listen,” I tell her, tipping my head.

  She closes her eyes, lifting her chin to the sky. “Water.”

  “We’re close to the waterfall.”

  Quinn’s lips curve into a smile and we start forward again. I break a spiderweb out of Quinn’s way at the last second. We’re on a less popular trail, going to see one of the smaller waterfalls. We haven’t seen anyone else out here in a while, which has been nice. The world seems to fade away when Quinn’s with me like we’re the only two left in it.

  The path gets a little steep and slippery with wet rocks and mud. I keep a tight grip on Quinn’s hand, but she doesn’t need any help. Emerging through a thick of trees, we see the waterfall.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Quinn breathes.

  “It is,” I say, but I’m still looking at her, watching her face light up as she takes it all in.

  “Come here,” she says, turning around. She gets out her phone and holds it up to take a picture of us kissing with the waterfall in the background.

  “You’re a terrible selfie-taker,” I joke, taking the phone from her.

  “I don’t take too many selfies. And when I do, they’re of me in lingerie and I accidentally send them to my brother.”

  We both laugh, and I take a photo. It’s candid and probably my favorite of us so far on the trip.

  “I can’t believe I had to ask my mom to delete it for me.”

  “At least it wasn’t your dad.”

  “Oh my God, I know.”

  We sit on the flat rock, feet dangling over the water, and eat some of the snacks we packed. Neither of us speaks as we eat, but it’s not awkward in the least. Quinn finishes her water and puts the empty bottle in her bag.

  “I have to pee.”

  “Go in the woods,” I tell her, waving my hand at the trees behind us.

  “Keep watch and make sure no one is coming?”

  “Okay.” I finish my food and get up, looking down the path. There’s no one in sight. Quinn goes a few yards away just in case, and once she’s out of sight, I carefully pull her grandmother’s ring from my pocket. It’s in a little velvet bag, but I’m still scared of losing it.

  The question burns in my throat, and I’ve gone over and over what I want to say to her. Laughter echoes through the forest, and I quickly put the ring back. Quinn is making her way back and gets to me before another group of hikers comes to the waterfall.

  Taking Quinn’s hand, we start down the path going back the way we came. We have a fancy dinner later tonight…I can ask her then. Though that’s a little cliché and Quinn doesn’t like cliché. The pressure to make this proposal unforgettable is getting to me. Quinn deserves the best.

  “There’s another mongoose,” I tell Quinn, pointing it out. “And yeah, I’ll admit it now. They’re cute.”

  “Let’s take one home with us.”

  “That would not go over well with TSA.”

  “Fine. I’ll just get another cat.”

  I put my arm around her. “You’re turning me into a cat person.”

  Quinn smiles. “Now that’s something to be proud of.”

  “Wow.” My eyes widen when Quinn steps out of the bathroom. She just got done getting dressed and looks stunning in a low-cut white dress. “You’re beautiful, babe.”

  “And you look pretty hot too, Dr. Jones.” She makes a move to come in and kiss me.

  I hold up my hand. “I almost forgot my accessories.”

  “Accessories?”

  I reach into my suitcase, pull out my stethoscope, and hang it around my neck.

  “No. You did not,” Quinn laughs.

  “We gotta make sure people know you’re dating a doctor, right?”

  She laughs again, throwing her head back. “I can’t believe you brought that and didn’t get it out until now.”

  I stride over and kiss her. “Is it turning you on?”

  “Being able to make me laugh is one of the hottest things you can do.” She runs her hands down my chest. “You’ll have to give me a checkup when we come back.”

  “As a doctor, it’s my duty to examine every single inch of you.”

  She takes the stethoscope from around my neck and puts it on, listening to my heartbeat for a moment.

  “I love you, Archer,” she says slowly, looking up into my eyes. She takes the stethoscope off and tosses it on the bed. I kiss her hard, feeling the ring in my back pocket. Cliché or not, I want to ask her to marry me tonight.

  “And I love you.” I kiss her once more and then break away, needing to stop now or else I won’t be able to. She’s pressed up against me, and letting her go proves to be difficult. I’m about to let her go when I feel something.

  “Is that Emma?”

  “You felt that?” she exclaims.

  “Yeah.” I put my hand on her stomach and wait to see if I’ll feel it again. I don’t, not now at least. Quinn moves my hand to the other side of her stomach.

  “Can you feel that?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t think I’d be able to feel her this early.” I take my hand off Quinn’s stomach and close the balcony doors. We need to get going before we miss our reservation.

  The restaurant is outside on the beach, and our table is close to the water. The only light around the tables are from candles and tiki torches. Yes, this is the perfect place to ask Quinn to marry me.

  We get seated and are looking over our menu when cheers erupt around us. I look up to see a guy down on one knee sliding a ring on his girlfriend’s finger. Well, there goes that idea…

  “I wouldn’t want to get engaged in a public setting like this,” Quinn tells me, looking back at her menu.

  I guess I dodged a bullet here for sure then.

  “Why not?”

  “Everyone is looking.”

  “Oh. Good point.” So, something secluded is better. We have plans tomorrow that involve a group, but I’m sure I can get her to go on a walk along the shore with me at night. My heart speeds up thinking about it.

  “What are you getting?” she asks.

  I haven’t even looked at my menu yet. “I’m not sure. What about you?”

  “Probably this one that I can’t pronounce.” She points to it on her menu. “Everything sounds good. I swear I’m going to leave here weighing ten pounds more than I did when I came.”

  “The food is good. Now I really don’t want to go home to microwavable meals and Ramen noodles.”

  “Hey, you’re almost done and then—” She cuts off, remembering that the fellowship is still up in the air. “I’m not the best cook, but that’s mostly because I’m lazy. I have a lot of my mom’s recipes so I could make us decent dinners if you’re, uh, you’re in town.”

  She folds her hands in her lap, looking out at the ocean.

  “I’m proud of you,” she says after a minute passes. “And I want you to know that I’m in favor of whatever you choose.”

  “You are?” I ask because I’m not even sure if I am. I want to take the fellowship and become a trauma surgeon. But not only is the fellowship far away, but I could work just as many hours as I do now as a resident.

  “Yes. You’ve wanted this for so long.”

  I look at Quinn. “I have.” But there’s something I’ve wanted even longer: her.

  24
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  Quinn

  “Today is our last day to stake a claim on the beach and never leave,” I say, running a comb through my wet hair. “I’m not ready to leave in the morning.”

  “Me neither. I know my surgery schedule and it’s back-to-back operations.”

  “I feel bad for you,” I tell Archer, turning away from the mirror to look at him. “I have Sunday off before going back into work.” I comb out a tangle, regretting keeping my hair down while we were at the beach today. “Will you work as much in the fellowship?”

  “The workload will be more intense, and the hours will probably be similar.”

  His words make me cringe, but only on the inside. Archer needs a break. He deserves one more than anyone I know. “It’s just two years,” I say, trying to be optimistic. But two more years of working eighty hours a week sounds awful. Archer closes the balcony doors and lays down on the bed, turning on the TV. We spent the day on the shore, had an early dinner, and are going whale watching. Archer doesn’t seem as excited as I am about it.

  I get the tangle out and towel dry my hair the best I can before putting it in a French braid.

  “Do you think it’ll get chilly on the boat?” I ask.

  “It might be windier than on shore. Bring the sweater,” he answers, knowing what I’m thinking. He gets me, and I’m sad our vacation is coming to an end. Being with him this week has been so nice.

  “I’ll grab your jacket then too. Ready?”

  “Yeah.” He turns off the TV and looks me over. “I don’t know how you look so good in everything you wear.”

  “You must have gotten too much sun or something. I’m in leggings and a tank top.”

  “If you haven’t picked up on it yet, I think you look hot in anything.”

  I smile and go over to him. “I hope you always think so.”

  “I don’t see why I won’t.”

  “What if I get really bad stretch marks?”

  “Then you get really bad stretch marks.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You’ll still find me attractive?”