by JD Hawkins
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Bob says, dabbing his forehead with a napkin.
“What made you decide to come back?” Beatrice asks.
“We talked about it,” I say, looking up at Colin who nods his agreement, “and I just didn’t have as much appetite to go independent as he did. I mean, I could have, but I like the hospital. I like you guys. You’re my family.”
“Aww.” Beatrice smiles. “And you’re ours.”
“To be honest,” I continue, “it had a little to do with Saskia, as well.” They look confused by this, and I quickly try to deflect any potential questions by adding, “What even happened with her? All I know is that she’s gone…”
“Oh Jesus…
“Man…”
“What happened…”
Their groans and mutterings are unanimously exasperated, as if they’ve been reminded of an ordeal. Beatrice sits back in her seat and waves her hand as if wanting to wave the subject away. Sean shakes his head and Bob drains the bottom half of his beer, immediately reaching for the pitcher again.
“She was dumb enough,” Sean begins, “to do the one thing nobody can get away with at Santa Teresa.”
Beatrice nods.
“Nobody,” Bob echoes like a chorus.
“What’s that?” Colin asks, intrigued.
Everyone glances at one another, as if it’s a Mexican standoff for who’s going to say it. I’m pretty sure I already know what they’re talking about.
Bob leans forward over his beer, staring down at it as if he’s about to say some sacred secret.
“She got into a fight with Jackie,” he says.
“A fight with Jackie?” Colin says.
“What about?” I ask.
Bob sighs.
“It began even before the two of you left—the tension. It started over the nurses’ shifts. She kept putting people like Deanna on nights, even though everyone knows Deanna likes to go out. She cut Sylvie’s hours down to half time, and for some reason she was scheduling Troy seven days a week. All of the nurses had their schedules messed around with, and call-outs skyrocketed—not just yours, Mia. It was all very strange…”
I squeeze Colin’s thigh under the table and he turns quickly to me, raising an eyebrow. He’d told me about how Saskia had engineered the schedule so that he was never around any female “threats.”
Bob continues, “Jackie may be an absolute pain in the ass…but she’s very protective of her nurses.”
“You do not fuck with Jackie,” Sean says, sounding almost afraid.
“What did she do?” Colin asks.
Beatrice shrugs and says, “Psychological warfare is the most appropriate name for it.”
“She had the delivery guys park in her spot every day, for one,” Sean says.
“And the IT guys lock her out of her computer,” Beatrice says.
“She had everyone calling her ‘Sonya,’ too,” Sean says, laughing guiltily.
“And she completely reorganized the nurses’ schedule despite Saskia telling her not to,” Bob adds. “Basically started doing everything her own way regardless. That led to arguments, which led to bigger issues…”
“Saskia didn’t try to get rid of Jackie?” Colin asks.
Bob sighs and leans forward once again.
“You see, Colin, the administrator might be the head of the hospital,” he says slowly, “but Jackie is the heart of it.”
“Jackie’s Jackie,” Sean says. “She is Santa Teresa. Been there thirty years—”
“Thirty-two,” corrects Beatrice.
“Nobody’s going to bat for anyone against Jackie—especially not the new boss.”
“To be fair,” Beatrice says, “Saskia didn’t exactly handle it very well. She seemed a little unhinged on that last day.”
“Yes but—to have her committed?” Bob says.
“What?” My mouth drops open.
“It’s only temporary,” Beatrice says.
“If she’s actually not insane,” Sean adds.
“Jackie will drive all of us insane eventually,” Bob says, taking a deep draw of beer, “especially me.”
“What are you saying about me, you old fool?” Jackie says as she bustles back into the booth, placing down my milkshake and sipping a neon-blue drink dressed in several different slices of fruit.
“Thanks, Jackie,” I say, seizing the opportunity to divert the conversation. I take the milkshake and hold it up for her to clink her cocktail against, then we both take a sip. I hold it up to everyone else. “It’s good to be back.”
“Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
We raise glasses and drink, but when I bring the milkshake to my lips all I find are Colin’s, and we kiss tenderly, as if marking something, as if celebrating it, as if reminding ourselves that from here on out, things can only get better.
We spend more than a few hours at the Three Flamingos. Jackie has more than one fruity cocktail but ends up going back to work (with Sean) seeming more alert and focused than ever. Beatrice and Bob stay with us to drink and talk about the hospital, his agony over returning to duty as the acting administrator, the chaos of the past few months. We give them a roughly edited—much cleaner—version of the story of how we got together.
Bob eventually settles into his “wise old man” routine, relishing the chance to give us marriage and child-rearing advice. Beatrice drinks just to the point at which she starts to seem a little sad, seeing me and Colin so happy together, as if reminded of something she doesn’t have, or has wanted for a long time. I try to lift her spirits, but the problem with Beatrice is that she’s so tough you can help her as much as you can hurt her. In a funny kind of way, she reminds me of myself, and I silently hope that she ends up the same way—profoundly happy and finding everything she wants.
As the drinks get sipped more slowly and the evening energy fades into a contented high I think again how easy this new life—not just me, but Colin and me—seems to fit. How many of the good things I used to love are still in it, and how many more good things there are now. Just this morning Maeve and I were shopping for baby stuff, my best friend squealing excitedly over every tiny pair of booties or animal print onesie. I was surprised she enjoyed it so much—though not as surprised as she was, I think. She’s going to be a fantastic Auntie Maeve. Meanwhile, Toby’s made a point of hanging out with Colin to get to know him better, gone surfing with him and Jake, and forced both of us to promise he’ll be the baby’s godfather.
Eventually time comes to leave. There are more hugs and belly examinations, though everyone seems a little less eager to paw me now that they know they’ll be seeing plenty of me.
Holding hands, Colin and I step outside into an evening that feels as good as it looks. A cool breeze carrying the familiar, comforting smell of jasmine and car exhaust and ocean air. The sun streaked across the sky in a neon pink that makes even the bar’s signage seem subtle. The gentle swooshing of tires on the freeway beyond. A sense that we might just get lucky and this atmosphere might last forever.
I stop dead on my heels. Colin walks forward without noticing until he feels himself pulling on my hand. He turns around and smiles when he sees me just standing there. I fold my hands tightly and hunch.
“I feel a little cold,” I say with a knowing smile.
Colin laughs, nods, then pulls off his coat and swings it around my shoulders. We kiss softly, slowly. And then he looks down at me with genuine, deep happiness in his eyes.
“You know what?” he says. “This feels like a season finale.”
I bite my lip in an effort not to laugh, knowing exactly what kind of show he means.
“No. Not to me.”
“What does it feel like to you?” he asks.
It doesn’t take me long to answer. It’s an answer I’ve known for a while now.
“It feels like a happily ever after.”
Stay tuned this summer for my next standalone romance coming this June, Bad Boy Benefits.
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Also by J.D. Hawkins
Behaving Badly Series
Playing Doctor
Bad Boy Benefits
Cocky Men Series
Cocky Chef
Flawless
All In
Bad Boys Series
Confessions of a Bad Boy
Love and Ink
Unprofessional
Temptation
Insatiable Series
Insatiable
Booty Call
The Bet
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About the Author
JD Hawkins writes erotic romance with modern-classic alpha males and strong, independent women. He currently lives with his wife in Los Angeles, CA. He loves to travel and has lived in many places, including New York City, India and Thailand. When he isn't writing, JD enjoys surfing, training in Mixed Martial Arts, reading and taking naps. He's always loved making up stories, especially ones inspired by real life.
