If Nash hadn’t already known that an orthopedic surgeon made considerably more money than a nurse—even one with an advanced degree—then that fact was driven home when he walked into the lobby of the building where Dr. Burlingham owned an apartment. It was tastefully decorated with comfortable seating arrangements in neutral tones accented by colorful abstract art on the walls, and several vases containing roses, lilies, and miniature carnations in soft autumn oranges, yellows, and creams. There were also a number of little shops that catered to the needs of the high-end tenants of the building. He headed toward the coffee shop/café Dr. B had named for their assignation.
Which was worse—making that first approach toward his blind date last night, or making himself walk across the room to join Dr. Burlingham at the secluded table in the back corner of the café? Either way, Nash’s attitude was the same, since he found himself once again murmuring “Fuck it,” straightening his shoulders, and striding forward to get the meeting over with.
Dr. Burlingham—or Emmitt, as Nash perversely thought of him, now—stood as Nash neared the table. “Nash, I’m glad you could make it.” He gestured politely toward the empty chair across from his own.
Oddly, and quite unexpectedly, Emmitt’s demeanor was nothing like when they interacted at the hospital. Gone was the professional self-confidence and serious, authoritarian air. Instead, the man was subdued, and perhaps a little nervous, if the way he was fiddling with his spoon was any indication. Nash couldn’t quite put a finger on how he would describe the expression on Emmitt’s face. His eyes, together with the set of his jaw, gave Nash the impression the man was trying to muster up some courage.
One thing was clear, Emmitt loved his grandfather. Nash no longer felt concern for the older man’s situation and was confident Emmitt would do the right thing, although he was apparently unsure of what that was.
It was rather flattering that such an eminent surgeon respected his opinion enough to want to talk to him about such a personal topic. Nash smiled in a manner he knew was reassuring, the smile he used often in the course of his work.
The smile worked as well on Emmitt as it generally did on Nash’s patients. The man’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. His lips briefly quirked up at the corners, and his shoulders relaxed as his hand moved back to his cup of coffee.
Nash opened the conversation, since it didn’t appear that Emmitt would. “So Bernie wanted me to talk to you. He’s under the impression you’re concerned about his being home alone once he gets released from physical therapy.”
Emmitt nodded. “I am. I think he’s a ‘fall risk’ now. I don’t like to think about how he’d suffer if he injured himself with no one around to help him.”
“I can understand that. Have you considered contacting a home health care agency? They have different options ranging from daily visits to help him with his personal needs or meals, to full-time assistance. I really don’t think he needs to be placed into a nursing home yet.”
Emmitt’s eyes widened. “Nursing home! No, my grandfather will never be put in a nursing home.” He shook his head and tensed up, and appeared offended that Nash would suggest he’d even consider such an option.
Nash sat back, his mouth dropping open. Hadn’t Bernie implied that was what Emmitt had in mind? And it wasn’t a completely impertinent suggestion, anyway. Most people didn’t have the means for more agreeable alternatives.
“I worked as an aide in a nursing home back in my college days. There are a lot of caring people in that business.” Nash put up a hand to halt the retort Emmitt appeared about to spit out. “And I wouldn’t have brought it up if Bernie hadn’t given me the impression that was what you were thinking.”
It was Emmitt’s turn for a jaw drop. He quickly shut it again, and his cheeks pinked.
A server approached the table with a basket of pastries and tarts Emmitt had apparently ordered, and two small plates. She smiled and turned to Nash. “Would you like a coffee, too, or maybe some fruit juice or pop?”
“Juice, please. Do you have apple?”
“Sure do. Would you like anything else?”
Nash declined, and she walked away.
Emmitt cleared his throat. “My grandfather is still sharp as a tack, but he knows his own mind, and he’s a master manipulator.”
Nash chuckled. “Not a particularly subtle one, though.”
Emmitt grinned. “You won’t get any argument from me on that.” He sat back, relaxed again. “To answer your question, yes, I have thought about it. Investigated it, in fact. Once he’s mobile again, Grampy won’t need much in the way of personal care. Well, maybe more of that as time goes on, but for now he does okay.”
“That’s the impression I got, too.”
“Right. Since my separation, he’s been home alone while I’m working, and that worries me. Even more so, now, with this knee replacement surgery. Due to his age, and the fact there’s nobody at home for him much of the day, he’s got a few weeks inpatient at the rehab facility. I need to have something in place for when he’s released.”
Their server brought Nash’s apple juice, and he took advantage of the interruption to snag a pastry. “I’m not sure I’ll be much help to you. I’ve taken a look at home health care, but only from the perspective of becoming an employee, which I eliminated due to crap benefits.”
Emmitt nodded and transferred a fruit-filled croissant to his plate. “I overheard you say so to that pediatrics nurse, Angela.” His face reddened again. It was kind of sweet. Nash hadn’t noticed his tendency toward blushing before. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”
Nash waved away his concern. “Tables are too close together. It’s probably the source of most of the hospital gossip.”
“I’d really like someone around the clock. I work long hours through the week, and I’m on call two or three nights every week, and often enough on weekends. The partners that aren’t officially on call are still back-up.”
“I understand,” Nash said. “The agencies do provide a twenty-four/seven option, but I’m sure it would mean multiple people for a long-term post.”
“Plus, I get the feeling the turnover might be high. I want something stable.”
“A private hire, maybe? You’ll want to have someone do a thorough background check if you go that way. One of the benefits of the agencies is they do all of that for you.”
Emmitt tensed up again. He took a sip of his coffee and a deep breath. “I’m also concerned about personalities. How many people might we go through before finding someone we both want sharing so much of our lives?”
“I hear you. I’m looking for a roommate situation myself, and that’s something I worry about. You can’t always tell in a short discussion what it’ll be like actually living with the person. People don’t necessarily present their true selves during an interview.”
“Right.” Emmitt stared at his coffee, pinched his lips together, and alternated between flexing and clenching his right hand as if he was working up the mettle to say something. His gaze came up, and he looked steadily into Nash’s eyes. “That’s why I hope to convince a nurse I already know, like, and respect to take it on.”
Oh.
Nash’s eyes widened as he leaned back in his chair. How had he not seen that coming? Of course Emmitt—Dr. Burlingham—wasn’t consulting him. He didn’t need Nash’s opinion, he wanted Nash’s skills.
“Just to be clear, you’re interested in hiring me?”
“Yes. You’re looking for a new job, and you’re looking for a place to live. This would knock two things off your…uh…list right there.”
His list. What the hell had he prattled on about that day? Nash took a sip of his juice and thought about Emmitt’s offer.
“Um, yeah. Well, I haven’t thought too much about the home health route. It’d be an easy gig, sure. Bernie’s a sweet old guy and still pretty competent. But, I can’t imagine that something like this is going to be able to compete with my hospital salary, or what I might expect from a position in someone’s private practice. I also have to think about benefits.”
Not to mention, living with his employer would likely put a serious damper on his love life. Not that he had one at the moment, but he still had hopes—not of “love,” per se, but of…something. He wasn’t sure himself, anymore, what he wanted.
“You wouldn’t have room and board expenses. That’ll all be covered, though you’d have to list that value as part of your income for taxes, I think.”
Complicating his taxes was another strike against taking the job. On the other hand, it really would take care of two of his problems, just like that, and would add diversity to his resume.
Dealing with Emmitt outside of the hospital on this personal matter was nothing like interacting with his professional persona—thus far, at least—so living with the man in his home might not be a drawback. And if the lobby of this building was anything to go by, residing here would not be a hardship at all.
“Okay,” Nash said. “I’ll consider it. I know you need a quick answer, so I won’t take long, but we’ll need to talk about the compensation and benefit details, because that’s a factor.”
Emmitt smiled. It completely transformed his face, erasing any lingering traces of the serious and exacting man Nash knew from the hospital. “I’ll set up an appointment with my accountant. Attorney, too, I suppose. We’ll need a formal contract.”
Nash held up a hand, palm out. “I’m just thinking about it right now, and I need all the facts before making a final decision.”
“They’ll present the facts. Anything you don’t like, we’ll change until it’s acceptable to you.”
“I do have one more concern. I really hate to say this, but I have to be practical. Much as I hope Bernie will be around for many years to come, with his advanced age, it’s a gamble for me to think of this as a long-term position. I’m not sure that’s a wise career move for me, not at my age.”
The smile dropped from Emmitt’s face and was replaced by a tight line. In the end, he nodded. “I understand. I don’t like to think about that, but you’re right, and of course it’s wise to consider it.”
Nash exhaled loudly, relieved that Emmitt didn’t appear to be upset. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath after making that last comment. He didn’t want to offend Emmitt, but he couldn’t let the man go off thinking the deal was as good as made. It wasn’t. He had a lot to think about, and there were a number of potential downsides to this career move.
Emmitt asked, “Would you like to see the apartment? It’s where you’ll be living if you accept the position. Might as well, since you’re here already.”
“Believe it or not, it’s not actually a factor in the decision. I know it’ll be an upgrade from everywhere I’ve ever lived, with the possible exception of the last few months with my ex-fiancé.” He didn’t require much, and it was probably safe to assume Emmitt had a room available, or he wouldn’t be making this offer.
“Nevertheless…”
As Emmitt had said, he might as well since he was here. “Okay, sure. Thank you.”
Emmitt signaled for the server and got a bag for the remaining pastries. Nash took a quick final bite of his and chugged the rest of his juice. Another potential downside to this scheme was he’d gain twenty pounds within months if he switched from a bowl of granola to grazing on a spread of danishes every morning.
He followed Emmitt out to the lobby. Emmitt waved a security fob in front of some kind of an electronic reader/intercom system on the wall. There was a loud click, and Emmitt opened a door into an elevator vestibule. They rode to the twenty-fifth floor, where the doors opened on a wall facing them, adorned with more colorful abstract art. They turned left and stopped in front of a door that would lead into a corner unit. Emmitt unlocked the door and gestured with an arm, ushering Nash into the apartment ahead of him.
Nash took three steps in and stopped short, awestruck by the simple beauty of the open space in front of him. It was light and airy, with a wall of huge windows and a door leading to a spacious balcony facing him. It was a modern building, built to be condominiums from the start, but it was designed in a loft-style with exquisite wood flooring, open brick walls surrounding the windows, two-story-high ceilings with rafters, and plumbing pipes crisscrossing the overhead space.
To the left was a deep cream-colored wall with two doors on this level, and stairs near the opposite end leading up to another room. Probably two bedrooms below with a larger master suite above. As a corner unit, the bedrooms would probably all have windows as well.
The huge kitchen space was toward the back, where they stood. Emmitt placed the bag of pastries on the counter as Nash looked around. The kitchen was fully appointed with large ultra-sleek and modern appliances and smooth granite countertops. There was more cabinet space than Nash had ever seen in a private residence, and a huge island with a six-burner cooktop and a row of counter height stools opposite. Beyond the kitchen, the space was wide open with a dining set arranged nearer the kitchen, and a large seating area farther down toward the bank of windows. The only things marring the esthetics were the cardboard boxes stacked around the apartment.
“You’re moving?” Nash asked.
“In. Moving in. The jointly owned house was sold to simplify things in the divorce. I wanted to live in the city, closer to my office and the hospital anyway.”
Emmitt opened the second door on the left, and Nash stepped inside. It was empty. “This room would be yours. I’ll furnish it, unless you have your own bed and stuff you want to use.”
“No, I put my furniture into storage when I moved in with my ex, then sold it when we got engaged. His place was already furnished with better stuff than what I had.”
There were two open doors to the left. One was a walk-in closet, the other a small, but full bathroom. The bedroom itself was spacious, with a row of windows on the outside wall.
“Grampy’s bedroom is a mirror image of this.” Emmitt gestured back toward the first door, nearer the entry.
The stairs, which didn’t quite start all the way at the end where the wall of windows was located, allowed a hallway’s width of space leading to the left. “There’s a half-bath and small laundry under the stairs around that corner. The rest you can pretty much see.”
“It’s beautiful.” Nash smiled. “But you know that, don’t you? Admit it…you’re trying to sweeten the deal by showing me this.”
He wouldn’t typically talk to the Dr. Burlingham he knew from work in this light, joking manner, but he did it now as a deliberate test. If he was going to share an apartment with the man, he had to know what the atmosphere would be like.
Emmitt blushed and grinned. “Well, I have to offset your concerns with something appealing, right?” He looked around the room, then shrugged. “I fell in love with this space on sight. It even has a large enough balcony that Grampy can still enjoy the gardening he loves so much, even if it is all in pots, now.”
Two points for Emmitt in this round. His concern for Bernie’s happiness was probably worth even more than the single point Nash had awarded it.
Emmitt’s face clouded over, and he stared toward the windows overlooking the city. They walked toward the windows and gazed out. To the right—west—Nash caught a glimpse of Puget Sound.
The view and the condo were amazing, and it would be a privilege to live here. Appealing as the living space was, though, Nash couldn’t allow it to offset his concerns about how accepting this position might affect his goals, both career and personal. He had serious doubts that the salary and benefits package would be comparable to his current level, even considering the fact he wouldn’t have to pay room and board. Truly, the situation required only a basic home health care worker, not a full-fledged nurse, let alone one with a master’s degree with the correlating salary boost that would be expected. Would Emmitt really be willing to pay a premium salary just to avoid dealing with people he didn’t already know?
“I shouldn’t say this,” Emmitt muttered.
Nash turned and looked at him but remained silent.
Emmitt closed his eyes and shook his head. “Damn it.” He bit out the words, then opened his eyes again. He avoided Nash’s gaze and turned back to the window. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if I didn’t, because if I leave it unsaid, it will probably affect things down the road. Make things awkward.”
“I don’t understand.” As much as Nash was curious, he was also uneasy, suspecting that something he’d done or said in the past was about to come back and bite him in the ass. He took a deep breath. “It’s probably best to just get it out of the way. Clear the air, right?”
Emmitt turned back to him, and Nash again laid his best “relax the patient” smile on the man. Apparently he needed to patent it, because it once more worked like a charm. Emmitt visibly relaxed and briefly smiled.
Squaring his shoulders, he looked Nash directly in the eye. “Did you mean the things you said?”
It was something he’d said in the past. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”
Emmitt’s cheeks pinked up, but he held the eye contact. “To Angela. The other day in the cafeteria.”
“Oh.” Fuck. “My rant about my love life? You don’t need to worry. Even if I manage to start dating someone, I won’t expect to bring him back here. That would feel weird to me, too. But…” The new Nash needed to make himself heard here, just in case he decided to accept the position. Lay some ground rules of his own. “I’d be allowed to have a regular friend or two over for a quiet evening, right? As long as it doesn’t interfere with taking care of Bernie? Heck, your grandfather’s a pretty cool guy, and I think he’d like the extra social interaction. It would actually be good for him, don’t you think? Will I be able to treat this as my home? Because I won’t have anywhere else to host friends if I’m living here.”
Emmitt’s eyes had widened as Nash rambled on nervously. “Uh, no…I mean, yes, of course you can have company. That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh. Cool.” Nash narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you should just spell it out for me, then, so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”
“You, uh…” Emmitt cleared his throat. “You talked to her about how you didn’t believe in love, and your experiences with dating and how people actually know early on whether or not it’ll work out. You mentioned what your relationship goals were.”
Nash’s face heated. He’d said something about wanting regular sex, and to hell with love, it didn’t exist. Not for him, anyway. Emmitt had not only heard, but remembered it all.
“Um, yeah. I was on a roll that day.”
“So you didn’t mean what you said?”
It was a character thing. Emmitt didn’t want someone with what he perceived as shady moral standards living in his home.
“Look, I’m not actually promiscuous. I know it might’ve sounded like that, but I don’t sleep around with lots of random guys.”
“You’re misunderstanding me. Please, just answer…did you mean what you said?”
Nash clenched his jaw. Fine. He wasn’t going to lie, and there was nothing about what he’d said to be ashamed of. None of it was inherently bad simply because it was different from social norms.
“Yes.” He held up his chin defiantly. “I meant every word.”
Emmitt’s stiff stature relaxed. “Good. I pretty much have the same outlook these days. Not so much when I was young and dumb, but we live and learn, right?”
“Solid fact.” Nash nodded and expelled the breath he’d been holding in relief.
“I really don’t want to scare you away, but I can’t help thinking how much simpler all of this could be if we had the guts to just do it.” He turned back to the window. “Not to mention fix everything that’s wrong with my life,” he mumbled.
Nash was more confused than ever. The man had an enormously successful career and a dream home. Short of needing to find a caretaker for his grandfather, what could possibly be wrong with his life? And how did Nash’s love-life rant figure in?
“The guts to do what?”
Looking Nash in the eye again, he replied, “To get married.”
What. The. Fuck. Seriously, what the motherfucking fuck? Had Emmitt—Dr. Burlingham—just proposed marriage?
Nash stumbled to the nearest armchair and dropped down onto an arm. He stared at Emmitt. “To each other?”
“Of course. If you sincerely meant everything you said to Angela, then why not?” He paused for a moment, and his brows knit together. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily mean you like me just because you’re always pleasant. That could be your professionalism.”
“I don’t dislike you.” Damn, that sounded cold. “I mean, I’ve never thought about you other than professionally. For one thing, I thought you were straight until a few days ago, plus we’ve never met or interacted outside of the hospital.”
“And now that you have?”
He’d told Angela that he’d always known within five minutes whether or not a relationship would work. He had to admit that was a slight exaggeration, but did he know Emmitt well enough to make that judgment?
The man was a dedicated medical professional. He obviously cared about his patients’ well-being. He selflessly managed the needs of his aged grandfather and considered the old guy’s happiness in his decisions. Bernie talked about Emmitt as if the man walked on water, and could anybody who called his grandfather “Grampy” be bad? Plus, there was nothing about his personality that grated.
Nash nodded. “I like you. That’s not an issue.”
“Not attracted to me?”
Damn. It had taken Emmitt a while to work up the nerve to broach the subject in the first place, but once that ice was broken, leave it to a doctor to clinically analyze the issue, no matter how personal.
Was he attracted to Emmitt? Nash tried to avoid perving over straight guys—what was the point, after all—so he’d never considered the man in that way before. Emmitt had stunning coloring with his dark brown hair contrasting with his pale skin and piercing blue eyes. Nothing about his features stood out one way or another, but, yeah, on the checklist he, Harley, and Oliver had come up with last night, he’d have to put a big checkmark next to personal attraction.
Character…check. Personality…check. Attraction…check. What else was there? Relative intelligence? Just because Nash wasn’t a doctor, didn’t mean he couldn’t have been. He preferred the more personal interaction with patients that being a nurse presented. Fuck it…check.
“Uh, yeah. I mean…no, that’s not a problem.”
“What are your arguments against?”
Christ. Was there any good reason not to marry Emmitt? Was that the bar, simply not having a reason against it? Angela had agreed with him regarding early intuition in relationships. But everyone he knew would tell him he was crazy for actually acting on something they all probably agreed with in theory. Well, fuck everyone. Was there a downside for himself, personally?
“What are your reasons for wanting this, other than it’ll simplify the whole ‘needing a nurse’ thing?”
“I like you. I respect you. I’m attracted to you. Those are the things that make up the cornerstone of a good relationship. The rest is up to us. I don’t believe there’s only one person out there that’s the ‘perfect match’ for each of us. I think there are hundreds, maybe thousands of good potential mates for each of us right here in Seattle. Who ends up together is a question of luck and timing, nothing more.
“I hate dating, but I want the same things you want. The things you listed off for Angela. Commitment is important to me. Companionship…someone to come home to each night. Someone to go out and do things with. And…well, we’re healthy adults. Like you said, a regular, monogamous sex life would be a fucking dream.”
Clearly honesty wasn’t going to be a problem. And truly, like when dealing with patients at the hospital, simply stating wants and concerns in a matter-of-fact manner helped smooth the awkwardness out of the conversation.
“I can understand you wanting the same things, but I’m having trouble buying it—this jumping straight to a marriage proposal—from you.”
“Why?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “We’re not even remotely in the same position in life. You’ve got everything to offer. I’ve got nothing. What’s stopping you from hiring me and just seducing me if you want regular sex. Or if you don’t want to risk having me get offended and quit, just find yourself a boy toy. There are plenty of mercenary guys out there that would love to be at your beck and call. What’s your ulterior motive?”
Emmitt’s eyes narrowed and brows knit together as if he felt insulted. “Ulterior motive?”
“Right. Are you going to lose some kind of billion-dollar inheritance if you aren’t married at a certain age? Why be married?”
“Christ.” Emmitt laughed. “Do you spend all your free time reading romance novels?”
Nash’s face heated. Okay, so maybe that had come out of a novel he’d read once. A long time ago, thank you very much. “Sorry. I just think there’s got to be more to it.”
“Okay.” Emmitt looked down for a moment, then met Nash’s eyes again. “Full disclosure. The simple answer to your question is ethics. I think it would be unethical to hire you—pay you to be in my home—then take advantage of you like that. It wouldn’t be the same as lovers moving in together for mutual convenience. I’d feel like a John. I don’t think you’d have agreed to that anyway, would you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. I wouldn’t have pursued this if I had. I’m not interested in wasting my time on gold-digging ‘boy toys,’ as you put it. Like I said, I have a high opinion of you, and I’m looking for a complete relationship.”
Nash remained silent. A trick he’d learned from a detective he’d once dated. Makes people squirm then keep talking to fill the void.
Emmitt took a deep breath. “The more complicated answer is that I downplayed things a bit when I said I was attracted to you. I’ve felt it for some time. It would have been…uncomfortable living here with you while denying that. Bottom line is you’re both my number-one choice for who I want taking care of Grampy, and exactly the kind of person I’d want to share my own life with.”
This time Nash was silent because he was flabbergasted.
“Don’t bother dating…simply ask him to marry you five minutes into the conversation—that’s what your friend said to you. She was being facetious, of course, but she agreed that she’d instinctively known early in her relationships whether or not it would work. How many times have we heard people say things like that? I’m tired of being a conformist…it’s hypocritical. This would be…convenient. A marriage of convenience.”
If anyone had tried to tell Nash a month ago that Dr. B was attracted to him, he’d never have believed it. He’d just denied it to Angela this past week. Clearly the man had gotten his ability to hide his true feelings from the opposite corner of the gene pool than the one Bernie swam in.
Marriage would certainly put an end to his concerns about switching to home health care as a career move, not to mention the salary and benefits issue.
“Okay, I’ve got a few questions. First of all, do you intend for the marriage to be permanent?” Nash wouldn’t repeat his earlier point about Bernie’s potential lifespan, but he had to know. He absolutely did not want to have to start his “relationship search” over again years down the road.
“Yes. Excepting my current need for a live-in nurse, none of the other reasons I’ve given you will change in the future. I want a permanent arrangement.”
Nash nodded. “Also, I really like your grandfather and have no problem being his primary companion and helper. That being said, if I were to make plans to do something with my friends, would it be okay to use a home health service for occasional short stints? And do you have a problem with us each pursuing some separate interests in addition to things we’ll do together? And on that topic, what kind of things do you like to do?” If Emmitt was going to just lay it all out on the line, Nash could, too. He wanted some reasons to commit himself to Emmitt in particular, not only why nots.
Emmitt perked up and moved to one of the sofas, opposite the chair upon which Nash remained perched. He sat and leaned forward, with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
“Yes, of course. And yes, we’d also use the service for when we go out together without Grampy. I’m flexible. I like concerts, movies, sports, museums…”
“Theater?”
“Absolutely.”
Could it possibly make more sense to marry—fucking marry—Emmitt than to hire on as an employee? If he truly accepted the truth of his rant to Angela, it did. He wanted to be in a relationship. Wanted something permanent. Emmitt met all of his criteria.
He felt vindicated. While Angela had teased him about his comments, she’d agreed to them in theory. Emmitt, a highly respected man, was willing to join him in giving a big “fuck you” to social norms. Why shouldn’t they do something they both wanted just because it flew in the face of conventional behavior?
“You know what? You’re right. It really does boil down to having the guts to do it. I cringe at the very thought of explaining this to my family.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a lie to tell them we’ve known each other for years.”
“I guess. I won’t be able to hoodwink Harley, though. That’s my best friend, by the way. I’m sleeping on his couch.”
“I’m used to shocking the hell out of people lately. Adding one more thing to the pile probably won’t faze them much. And I’m pretty sure Grampy will be thrilled.”
“Are you sure this isn’t some kind of rebound thing for you? Your divorce was only final this past week, wasn’t it?”
Emmitt stood and approached the chair. He took Nash’s hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. Nash rose to join him.
“It was finalized earlier this week, but it’s been in the works for a while now. You were still engaged to your ex when the proceedings started, so we’re on rather equal footing regarding mental states, I’d think. Do you feel confident the statements you made to Angela were from your heart and not a temporary reaction to your broken engagement?”
Nash nodded. “No doubt the breakup was a trigger, but only to making me really analyze my feelings.”
“Love is bullshit. It’s fleeting. A relationship built on compatibility, like this, has a better chance of enduring than ones built on love.”
“Fuck love.”
“Nash, will you marry me?”
“I would be honored, Emmitt. Yes, let’s do it.”
Emmitt’s eyes widened, and his smile turned lopsided. “Emmitt?”
“Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m so used to Bernie referring to you that way. What should I call you away from the hospital? Myles?”
“Might as well call me Emmitt.” He laughed and shook his head. “It’s not as if Grampy will ever stop.”
* * * *