He didn’t want to go back to business only when the snow stopped and they returned to work.
“Amityville,” Sofia said, pulling the blanket back over the sofa so he could sit next to her. “We get enough blood at work.”
Her eyes widened at the reminder of the jobs they’d left behind in the snow a mere half a day ago, and shit. Guess they were going to have this conversation sooner rather than later.
“You know I’m not going to treat you any differently than the other residents, or any differently than I ever have,” Emmett started carefully, sitting down beside her.
“I do.” Her reply came too quickly to be anything other than the truth. “I just…I can’t help but feel like I’m going to lose focus on becoming a doctor if I spend time doing this.”
She gestured between them, the sleeve of the T-shirt he’d loaned her to sleep in flopping around her arm. Emmett knew he had to tread cautiously, but yeah, that still wasn’t going to keep him from treading at all. He wanted her too much for that.
“Look. I don’t know what this”—he mimicked her gesture, encompassing them both in an imaginary circle with his hand—“is going to turn into. But I do know that I really like you, and I don’t want to stop spending time with you. You said you wanted to feel this good, right?”
“Okay, that was kind of a sex thing. No fair using things I say when I’m naked against me,” Sofia said, and Emmett matched her tiny smile with an even bigger one.
“First of all, we’re not in court. There are no naked Miranda Laws.” He paused to reach out for her fingers, balancing the levity with just enough seriousness for her to know he meant what he was saying. “Secondly, that might have been a sex thing, but it was also kind of a me-and-you thing. You deserve to be happy, Sofia. Not just at work, but in your life, too.”
After a second, she nodded. “I am happy, here with you. I feel good for the first time in…well, a really long time. But crossing that boundary, between this and work…I can’t lie, Emmett. That feels scary to me.”
In the fifteen months he’d known her, he’d seen a lot of emotions cross Sofia’s face, but this vulnerability? Wrecked him the most. “Be my date to the hospital’s holiday party.”
“What?” she breathed in clear surprise, and okay, yeah, that made two of them. Still, he was sure.
And what’s more, he wanted her to know it.
“I know holiday celebrations aren’t your thing, and I know you’re still unsure about mixing work and pleasure. But this thing we’re doing—whatever it is—feels right to me, and I think it feels right to you, too. I’d really like to keep that smile on your face, for as long as you’ll let me. At work. Here at my place. Anywhere you want. Meet me in front of the Christmas tree at seven on the night of the party. Please?”
For a minute that lasted approximately a month, Sofia said nothing, her dark brows furrowed in thought. Then finally, she said, “Let me think about it? I promise I will,” she added, and Emmett knew she meant it. She was far from shy. If it was a no-go, she’d have no trouble saying so no matter how many orgasms they’d traded. “The party, telling everyone about us…it’s all just a really big leap for me, and I need a little time to sort out if I’m ready for that.”
“Of course,” Emmett said, smiling even though his chest pinched. As much as he wanted Sofia to go to the party with him, to trust him enough to take that next step, to see where this thing between them could really go, he also wanted her to be sure.
But for now, he had the snowy weekend to show her how good they could be together, and he wasn’t about to waste time, so he waggled his brows and said, “Now, stop hogging the blanket, would you? We’ve got some old horror movies to watch.”
Sofia peered down into the bowl on Emmett’s kitchen counter and frowned, despite the smile that wanted to rise up from her chest to take over.
“Are you sure it’s supposed to look like that? I thought cupcake batter was supposed to be less…” She trailed off, searching for a word that wouldn’t put a dent in his culinary pride.
“Soupy?” he supplied, lifting the wooden spoon out of the questionably thin, gloppy concoction.
She laughed. “You said it, not me.”
A gust of wind kicked up outside, swirling a stream of still-falling snowflakes across the floor-to-ceiling windows across the apartment. Although the resulting rattle should’ve made Sofia feel cold, it didn’t. As long as they were snowed in, the rest of the world was far away. When they were here, trying (and failing) to make triple-fudge cupcakes from the recipe on the Cake Showdown website, she could pretend that this—sleeping with her attending—just might work.
If only she wasn’t falling for him, too, she might have be able to convince herself.
You deserve to be happy, Sofia…
What if she screwed up everything she’d worked for, everything she owed her Papi, all in the name of selfishly feeling good?
“Uh oh.” Emmett lowered the wooden spoon, reaching out to tuck a strand of errant hair back behind her ear. “You look very serious.”
“What’s wrong with being serious?” Sofia asked, hating the edge in her voice that had once kept her vulnerability at bay, but now just made her feel sad. Damn it.
Emmett paused, but only for a beat before abandoning the bowl entirely in favor of turning his full attention to her. “Nothing at all. Unless you don’t balance it out with a little happiness.”
“I am happy.” She tacked a smile to her face to prove it, but ugh, it was so ill-fitting, she gave up. “I just haven’t baked anything around the holidays since my father was killed. Laughing, celebrating. All of this.” She gestured to the string of multi-colored lights Emmett had dug out of a storage crate and hung over his kitchen cabinets a few hours earlier in an effort to top off the festive mood of the snowy afternoon. “I don’t want to lose sight of what’s important.”
“That makes sense,” Emmett said slowly, the silence that followed practically screaming but. A second later, he gave it voice. “But you’re important, too, Sofia. Not just your ambition to be a great doctor, but your happiness. You deserve them both. And celebrating doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten your father.”
Sofia’s brain knew this. Her stupid, tripping, traitorous heart, the one that wanted Emmett to wrap his arms around her right now until she didn’t feel sad or conflicted anymore? Not so much.
“I miss him,” she whispered.
“Then give him the legacy he deserves.” Emmett did pull her in then, his arms warm and strong as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Be successful and happy.”
Her pulse tapped swiftly in her veins, tenuous hope blooming in her heart. She didn’t answer—there was still doubt in her heart, too, along with a little fear that somehow, this would all crumble.
But for now, that tiny thread of hope was enough.
Sofia tilted her head back, kissing Emmett softly. Like everything between them, though, their kisses caught fire with startling quickness, heat building and tongues sliding, deeper and faster until he broke from her mouth with a wicked smile.
“The cupcakes might’ve been a fail, but we still have that frosting.” He grabbed the smaller bowl with one hand, and Sofia with the other. “And I know just what to do with it. Now let’s go find a little of that happiness, shall we?”
9
Emmett was one happy son of a bitch. Sure, he’d worked a thirteen-hour shift, and okay, yeah, he’d been swamped with three fairly complicated surgeries, all in a row, with a dozen ED cases in between—with only a four days to go before Christmas, slip and falls on icy sidewalks were real. But he’d spent another week with Sofia, studying and working by day and having the best sex of his life after hours, and nothing between them had changed. They were professional and productive when in their scrubs. When out of their scrubs?
Damn, he was falling for her. Hard.
And he’d be worried that she still hadn’t agreed out loud to be his date for the holiday party tomorrow night,
except he was pretty sure she was falling for him, too.
She’d be there.
“So, are you going to tell us who this mystery woman is?” Jonah asked, sending a laugh across the attendings’ lounge. “Because seriously, the look on your face says you have it bad.”
Emmett shook his head, but smiled back at Jonah. “Patience, Sheridan.” After tomorrow, hopefully the truth would be out.
Natalie, who had tugged her coat around her shoulders, let out a laugh. “Have you met my fiancé, Mallory? Patience isn’t exactly one of his strong suits. No offense, babe,” she added with a semi-sheepish smile.
“None taken. It’s not like you’re wrong. Or like you hate that about me.”
Jonah, who was the only man Emmett knew who could get away with a move like winking at a pretty girl and making her blush instead of smack him, did just that, and Natalie followed suit. “Don’t think you’re getting away with anything, Mallory,” Jonah said, returning his attention to Emmett. So close. “You must really like this woman if you’re keeping things on the down low.”
“I do,” Emmett said before he could stop himself. But so what? It was the truth, and he wasn’t betraying Sofia’s confidence.
“Ohhhh,” Natalie sighed. Of all of them, she had the biggest reputation as a romantic. Kind of ironic when you considered who she’d be getting hitched to in a couple of months, but then again, Emmett had just learned that sometimes, the least likely couple made the best couples.
“If she makes you happy, that’s the most important thing,” Natalie said.
Emmett grinned. Just as long as Sofia showed up at the holiday party as his date, agreeing to take that next step with him? He’d be the happiest man on the planet.
Sofia felt like there was a full-contact tennis match going on in her chest. Seeing as how the back and forth had been in play for weeks, the hospital’s holiday party was happening in T-minus two hours, and she still hadn’t decided whether or not she could take the true leap of mixing work with pleasure by meeting Emmett in front of the Christmas tree (and every single one of their co-workers) at the party, she was starting to break the cardinal rule of emergency medicine.
Don’t panic, her ass.
She and Emmett had spent days that had melted into weeks together, laughing and studying and watching back episodes of Cake Showdown in between trips to his bedroom (and, okay, one particularly filthy foray into his shower, where she may or may not have seen God). He hadn’t brought up the party again in the week that had passed since he’d asked her to meet him there, and while they’d stolen some time together since the storm had ended and the snow had melted, they’d also both been slammed with crazy cases and complicated surgeries, one of which had kept Sofia on Natalie Kendrick’s service for nearly three days straight, and so she hadn’t been able to work with him directly. But Emmett had still left her medical journals with highlighted passages so she could study without his guidance, along with assorted baked goods. Her pulse had skipped out a giddy little rhythm whenever she’d caught a glimpse of him in the hallway, but she couldn’t be sure the stupid thing wasn’t colluding with her vagina to plan some sort of mutiny that would smash her career into bits.
What if she took a chance with Emmett and lost track of what mattered? Her career? The legacy she owed her father? Everything?
As much as she cared about him, she couldn’t take that risk.
“Whoa,” came a familiar voice from the doorway of the lounge, and Sofia turned just in time to catch Charlie’s knowing smile. “Sorry to interrupt. You look pretty lost in thought.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Sofia said, waving her mentor into the room. She needed a distraction from the emotions churning through her, cement mixer-style.
Charlie filled her coffee mug to the brim before taking a careful sip. “Are you working on a difficult case?”
“No, I…” Sofia swallowed past the tightness in her throat. If anyone had the potential to help, it was Charlie. She and Parker were married, for God’s sake, and they hadn’t been without their own workplace drama last year on that path to happiness. “Can I ask you for some, um, personal advice?”
Charlie blinked in surprise, but thankfully, she recovered fast. “Sure.”
Sofia waited until Charlie had gotten comfortable in a nearby chair and tucked a strand of copper-red hair back into her ponytail. “What’s up?” Charlie asked, and before Sofia could stop herself, she opened her mouth to respond.
“Do you ever feel like your relationship with Parker gets in the way of you being a good doctor? That working with him distracts you? Or that people don’t take him seriously because you two are married and he’s your resident?”
“Damn, girl.” Charlie lowered her coffee mug, her eyes as wide as dark green dinner plates. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“Not really, no. Sorry,” Sofia tacked on.
But Charlie waved her off. “No, no. I don’t mind. I mean, let’s face it—Tess is my best friend, so I’m pretty used to women who get right to brass tacks. Plus, I’m not exactly a shrinking violet myself.”
“Fair enough,” Sofia said with a tiny smile. Dr. Michaelson dropped truth bombs about as easily as she breathed, and Charlie’s backbone had an equal amount of steel.
“The last part of the question is actually easier, so I’ll tackle that first,” Charlie said. “No, I don’t think anyone takes Parker less seriously as a doctor because he and I are married, and he’s a resident and I’m an attending. I make it a serious point not to give him any preferential treatment. Not that Langston would let me even if I tried”—at the mention of their rule-happy chief of staff, Charlie grinned—“but Parker works his ass off. Everything he achieves, he’s earned. He wouldn’t want it any other way, and neither would I.”
Every word was the truth, Sofia realized. Anyone with half a brain could see how good a doctor Parker was, no matter who he was married to. Still… “Okay, but how about the rest? You don’t feel like working together and being together is too much?”
“I’m going to assume you’re not asking hypothetically.” Charlie held up a hand before Sofia could bumble her way through a flimsy excuse-slash-denial. “Not a fishing expedition. You don’t have to tell me a thing. Everyone’s circumstances are different, and while I don’t know about yours, I can tell you that personally, I’m a better doctor because Parker and I are together.”
Sofia’s jaw dropped. “You are?”
“God, yes,” Charlie said over a laugh. “I mean, plenty of doctors are married to people in other professions, and they’re happy as clams. Look at Dr. Tanaka.” She pointed through the lounge window at the night-shift attending. “She’s been happily married for over a decade, and her wife teaches third grade. But when I have a difficult case or I lose a patient or I save someone’s life, Parker understands that on a different level than a partner who’s not a surgeon. And knowing that he’s always there, good or the bad, with my happiness and success in mind? Yeah. That makes me a way better surgeon than I’d ever be on my own.”
Sofia processed the words. Processed again, and…
Happiness and success. Happiness and success. Both of them, together.
Oh, my God.
“I take it that was helpful?” Charlie asked, making Sofia realize she’d replied out loud.
“Yes,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “It was—is—very helpful.”
She’d been so worried over losing her focus on becoming a good doctor that she hadn’t realized Emmett’s support, his belief that she already was a good doctor, wouldn’t distract her or steal her focus. It would help her become even better.
He helped her study, he made her laugh, even when he was driving her crazy. He made her happier than she’d been in years.
And she’d made him wait.
“Oh, no. The party,” Sofia murmured, winging a gaze at the digital clock on the wall. Shit! She still had two patients to discharge. She was never going to make it! “I’m so sorry, Dr.
Drake, but I have to—”
“Go,” Charlie said, shooing her toward the door. “I’ll make sure your patients are covered. I’m all about being fashionably late to parties, anyway.”
“Thank you. Oh, my God, thank you.”
And as Sofia rushed through the door, then out into the cold December night, she sent up a prayer for her own Christmas miracle.
Please don’t let me be too late.
Emmett looked at his watch for the sixtieth time since he’d walked in the door of The Plaza hotel half an hour ago, and finally admitted defeat. He’d been so sure Sofia would meet him in front of the Christmas tree—cocky, maybe, but he’d seen happiness in her eyes this week, and he’d meant it when he said she deserved that joy.
He just hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to be the one to give it to her until now.
“Damn, Mallory. Where’s your holiday spirit?” Jonah asked, appearing beside Emmett with Natalie on his arm.
“It’s been a long week,” Emmett mumbled, trying (and, fine. Failing) to smile. “Guess I’m just not feeling that festive.”
“Dude. There’s an open bar,” Jonah joked.
“And have you tried these little crab puff thingies?” Connor put in, slipping a pair of the golden-brown appetizers off the tray of a passing server. “They’re ridiculous.”
His fiancée, Harlow, shook her head. “Sweetheart, I might be off-base here, but something tells me Mallory’s not going to be cheered up by the hors d’oeuvres. No matter how good they are. Are you alright, Emmett? You look pretty down.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. “No big deal.”
“Hmmm. You were in such a great mood yesterday,” Natalie’s blond brows slid together in concern as she looked at him more closely, then exchanged a look with Harlow, and damn it, Emmett should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to keep his disappointment off of his face. “If swanky snacks aren’t going to do the trick,” Natalie said, “what will make you happy, Mallory?”
Baby, It's Cold Outside: An Enemies to Lovers Holiday Medical Romance Page 6