She’s a rock star.
A future leader of our field.
Her work already far outshines doctors with twice her experience. She just hasn’t learned balance yet. No resident does. Their world is one big challenge where it’s win big or go home. I get it. I lived it. You want to learn as much as you can, garner as much experience as you can, obtain the best fellowship or attending position as you can.
But all of that comes at a cost and in Grace’s case, this week spread her thin.
“I don’t want to talk about work. I want to talk about tonight.”
“Fine, we’ll talk about it tomorrow morning over breakfast.”
She shakes her head. “No. I have to go in. No one picked up Janet’s shift, including any of her residents.”
Fuck. They didn’t because they knew Grace would. That means she has to be back there at seven am tomorrow. Another night of limited sleep.
“Do you want to go home? Get more rest?”
She glares at me, ready to rip my eyes out for even suggesting something so ludicrous. “Not on your life. Now take me to meet the band.”
So that’s what I do. I hold her hand and we’re guided by yet another mammoth security guard to a room that houses four rock stars. Jasper Diamond. Gus Diamond. Keith Dawson. Henry Gauthier.
Kaplan and Luca are already here, shooting the shit.
But Grace hasn’t moved past the threshold. She stares at these guys, one by one, her grip on my hand becoming ninja-like.
Jasper notices us first, standing and giving us a look. He runs his hand through his reddish-brown hair, his tattooed arms on full display under a white T-shirt. “Hey,” he says with a hint of a smile. “You must be Grace. Welcome.”
And that’s when she loses it. “Oh my god. I’m not hallucinating.”
Gus laughs, standing too. “Come here, little darlin’. Your guys here were telling us all about you. My wife Naomi and I are expecting twins and I think I need to know what to expect when we’re expecting directly from the source and not a book, if you know what I mean.”
“Naomi Kent is pregnant?” Grace squeals, entering the room and marching over to him. “I haven’t heard this.”
Keith chuckles, taking a swig directly from his bottle of Jack Daniels before pointing the end of the bottle at her. “Nor will you, since Gus here wasn’t supposed to make that public for another six weeks or so. But since you’re all doctors, we’ll invoke some HIPPA shit.”
“My lips are sealed, but wow, congratulations,” Grace gushes, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with her excitement. “That’s amazing. I’m sorry if I look like a psycho right now, but I don’t think I can blink for fear that this will all be a dream.”
The guys all laugh good-naturedly—I’m positive this isn’t the first time they’ve met a big fan—and then Henry tosses his arm over her shoulder. “We’re happy to have you. Any friend of Kaplan’s is a friend of ours. He hosted a charity for one of our favorite causes and raised a lot of money that went to help kids on the autism spectrum. Anyone who cares about that is good people in our book.”
“Without a doubt,” Jasper agrees, picking up a bottle of Grey Goose and handing it to me. “Join us for a drink before the show?”
I take the bottle from him but notice it’s completely full and unopened. Jasper isn’t drinking and I’m assuming that’s because he takes his duties as front man seriously.
“Ignore the boring guy over there,” Keith says, pointing to Jasper as if reading my thoughts. “He won’t party with us until after the show.”
“Someone has to keep you assholes in line,” Jasper shoots back.
“Well, I’m all for a little pre-game,” Luca announces, swiping a bottle of Patron from off the counter and taking a swig before handing it to Kaplan, who does the same. “Grace?”
“Um. Well. A little, I guess.”
She takes the bottle from Kaplan and drinks some of it down, grimacing immediately after and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Alright.” Henry laughs. “Now we’re getting serious.”
By the time Grace and I stagger out of the green room and down in the direction of the floor, I think we’re both rocking a good buzz. The band was more than hospitable. We took shots—well, swigs from bottles—and picked at some food on the platters they had set up and each of the guys took selfies with Grace who was so over the moon she was practically floating.
We missed the opening act completely, but none of us care. Kaplan and Luca divert from our path, heading up to the booth to meet up with their friends who they had not invited for the meet and greet with the band. Grace and I meander down to the floor, only five rows back from the main stage.
By the time we reach our seats, there is a heavy bass drum thumping through the air and Grace screams out, jumping up and down and clapping her hands, the thrill of the night coursing through her blood.
“Happy?” I whisper into her ear.
“The happiest.” She spins around to face me, her face dark since the stage hasn’t lit up yet. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me. Got us tickets and arranged for me to meet them.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t that difficult.”
“Sometimes I forget you’re all Fritzes. I forget what comes with that. I grew up with Oliver and our parents were close friends, but… thank you, Carter.”
Before I can respond, the crowd goes wild, roaring out their cheers and excitement as the rest of the band runs onto the stage that illuminates with multicolored lights flashing, swirling all around. They immediately launch into a song, Wildfire, I think it is, but Grace hasn’t looked away and neither have I.
Our eyes hold, my arms snaking around her waist, hers around my neck. I start to move us, swaying to the music, my forehead now against hers. I could spend forever like this, trapped in this moment with her, seeing the stars twinkle in her eyes and the swirl of pure delight dance across her face.
She is a vision that stops my breath. That holds my heart.
Never in a million years will I tire of her.
She’s it. My one.
She’s been promised forever, love and devotion before only to have it fall way short. I can’t tell her with words, not yet, so instead I lean in those few tiny inches and place my lips to hers. I kiss her, hold her, dance with her, smile with her. We have the time of our lives listening to her favorite band, sipping on beers, and laughing our asses off. But more than that, I haven’t stopped touching her. Not once all night. I hold her, her back to my chest as we watch the show. We make out like two teenagers during some of the slower ballads.
And by the time the concert is over, and we make it back to the limo, we’re both riding a high like none other. The door shuts behind her and she sinks into my side, letting out a contented, tired sigh.
I raise the partition, settling in for a long drive home through post-concert traffic.
“Close your eyes,” I say to her, shifting her head so it’s on my lap, running my fingers through her silky blonde hair. “Get some sleep.”
“What if I don’t want to?” she rasps, angling her face until her mouth hovers over my thickening cock hidden behind my jeans. “What if I want to play for a bit first?”