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thing unless you’re puking your guts out, and even then I’ll tell you to take a Zofran and tough it out. Okay, let’s see here. First event is Monday. I’m going to have my assistant put these into your iCal too so you don’t miss them.”
    “I won’t miss any of them.”
    “No matter what.”
    “Are you asking or telling?”
    “Both.”
    “I won’t miss a single event, no matter what.”
    “Good girl.” Connie slinks back in her seat, though her body is visibly tense. “This is going to be the biggest launch in the history of Greenley Pharmaceuticals, and you and I, darling, are going to be at the helm of it all.”
    “We’ve got this.” I stand, grabbing the stack of pamphlets and shoving them into my bag. My gaze lands on a box of Arovag swag sitting in the corner, so I hoist that up too.
    “Your first event is Monday,” she says. “You’ll be meeting Dr. McHottie at Mercy West Hospital. Nine o’clock sharp.”
    I offer her a reassuring smile and haul my stuff to the elevator. Looks like I’ll be spending an awful lot of time with Sutton.
    Each step I take twists my stomach into knots. I feel sick. I could throw up, but I swallow over and over until the feeling subsides. I miss my simple life, before Miami. Before running into Sutton. I miss how easy it was to ignore him and forget that once upon a time I loved him more than I’d ever loved anything or anyone my entire life.
    Monday, I’m going to work with Sutton. A tickle of something swirls in my middle. I force it away until I can no longer feel it, telling myself it was all in my imagination.
    I pop my trunk and dump the box of swag with a heavy clunk that rattles my spare tire. And then I remember – James. James is at my apartment. I shake my head, loosening my thoughts about Sutton, and climb in to head home. I need to be in the arms of the man I love, and I need to stop thinking about all this petty nonsense.
    So I go home, straight to the man who holds my future in the palm of his perfectly calm smile and faultlessly benign embrace.
     

 
 
 
 
 
FIVE – SUTTON
     
     
    “Hey, doc.” I slam my gym locker and find Stephanie Tate standing there in her neon orange sports bra and tiny black spandex shorts. Her dirty blonde hair is piled on top of her head, and lips are pulled wider than her big, green eyes. She’s happy to see me; then again, she’s always happy to see me. “Haven’t seen you in the gym for a while.”
    “I’ve missed the last few work outs.” I turn and head to the water fountain, filling my bottle. She follows as if there’s some imaginary string connecting us. Where I go, she goes. I’ve been meaning to switch gyms.
    “Busy with work?” she asks, though it’s not like she’d know what work was. She’s a Daddy’s Girl with a generous allowance who spends most of her free time in the gym. When she’s not here, she’s out with her girlfriends or cruising downtown in her red BMW convertible.
    “Very.” I take a swig of water and head to a leg machine. She’s so close to me I catch overzealous whiffs of her vanilla-coconut body spray. We walk in tandem.
    “You never called.” She rests her hands on her narrow hips and tilts her head to the side, as if she’s trying to be stern yet adorable. I deal with women every day. I know their tactics. I know their techniques. I know never to take them at face value. And I especially know that the ones who combine the sweet looks with the sharp questions are the most dangerous ones. “I thought we had a good time.”
    I climb onto the machine and hook my legs beneath the weights, concentrating in the mirror up ahead and watching my form. “It wasn’t exactly a date, Steph-anie.”
    I almost call her “Steph”, but I correct myself before it’s too late. The last thing I want is to create that personable bond between us that starts with a simple nickname.
    “It wasn’t?” She bats her lashes as if she’s confused. She knows damn well it wasn’t