Page 58 of Clinically Bewitched
Because Fitz had definitely told everyone.
Everyone.
I could already hear it:
The whispers in the hallway.
The barely concealed laughter in the break room.
The questions disguised as concern.
“Julien, is everything okay?”
“We heard you had quite the trip.”
“So... married, huh?”
My reputation. My carefully built reputation over years of precision and professionalism was about to become hospital gossip.
Dr. Julien Darcy, the neurosurgeon who got drunk and married a stranger in Las Vegas.
Dr. Julien Darcy, who believed in science and reason until he apparently didn’t.
Dr. Julien Darcy, whose life was a cautionary tale about the dangers of spontaneity.
I pulled the covers up to my chin.
Tomorrow,I thought again.I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
When I’m rested.
When I’m prepared.
When I’ve had time to construct a reasonable explanation that doesn’t make me sound like I’ve had a complete mental breakdown.
But as I lay there in the darkness, one thought kept circling back:
She’d defended me.
This woman, this chaotic, spiritual, completely maddening woman, had seen me at my worst and still thought I was worth defending.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
I didn’t know what to do with any of this.
So I did what I always did when faced with a problem I couldn’t immediately solve:
I went to sleep and hoped that tomorrow would somehow be less catastrophic than I knew it was going to be.
SPOILER ALERT: it wasn’t!
Chapter Thirteen
Julien
I woke up feeling... good.
Which should have been my first warning sign.
