????????? [???]

"But we don't even have to listen to him. It's already been two weeks."

"The doctor told you to wait two weeks and five days, Esmeralda."

"Ferreira doesn't even know what he's talking about," she snaps, waving her good arm in the air like that'll erase medical degrees. "He's like... fifty-eight and divorced. What does he know about sexual health?"

I blink at her. "He's a trauma surgeon."

"He's also boring. And he wears Crocs."

"Oh my god."

Esmeralda flops back against the headboard like I just condemned her to life in a monastery.

The bedsheets shift down her chest, revealing the taped gauze on her shoulder and a lot of skin she's been strategically flaunting for the last ten minutes.

I cross my arms over my chest. Mistake. The lingerie she bought me this morning is...well. 

Let's just say it's not giving 'medical supervision.' 

It's giving 'sinful intentions at 10 a.m.

She stares at me like I'm the last meal on death row.

She's been buying me new sets almost every other day like it's some long-term seduction campaign. She's playing the long game, and honestly, I'm seconds away from losing.

"Baby. Come here."

"No."

"Come closer."

"No."

"I'll behave."

"You're literally not behaving."

She smirks. "I'm being so good. I haven't even touched myself."

My jaw drops. "Okay. We're done."

She throws her arms up (well—one arm and a wince). "I'm suffering! Look at me! I've been shot, Ashleen. SHOT. And what did I do? Did I lie around and rest like a normal person? No. I got up. I called meetings. I started hunting down whoever betrayed me. I've done the work."

"You didn't even wait twenty-four hours after surgery before escaping the medical quarters."

"And that's what? Initiative."

I press my lips together, trying so hard not to laugh.

She points dramatically. "You. You're supposed to take care of me."

"I am taking care of you."

"By depriving me?"

"By saving you from having to see Ferreira again!"

Her head drops back with a groan, like I'm the most unreasonable person to ever exist.

Honestly? I might be.