Mr. Darcy's Kiss

There was a long, awkward silence. Next to us, Jane and Charles were having an animated discussion about some art thing that I didn’t understand. There was no way for me to join in on their conversation. I was stuck with Mr. Darcy.

I fiddled with the string on my sweatshirt and sent a silent plea to the universe to fix the coffee machine as quickly as possible. This would be awkward regularly, but I hadn’t had a single cup of coffee yet, which just made it all the worse.

He typed one more thing into his phone before setting it down and looking me over. His eyes were so blue and sharp. I felt naked under his gaze. For a moment, I wondered what it would feel like to be naked in front of him for real before remembering that despite his good looks, he was an absolute jerk and I had vowed never to even think of sleeping with him.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” I finally said, trying to break the tension. “How’s your cheek?”

“Fine,” he replied. He turned to show me that there wasn’t a mark.

I should have hit him harder.

“I was actually curious, though,” he continued. “Why were you at the fundraiser? What’s your affiliation with the hospital?”

I decided to ignore the implication that I obviously didn’t belong at the fancy party. It was true, but that didn’t take any of my indignation away.

“I work at St. Austen’s. I’m an RN in the Cardiac ICU,” I explained. Then I remembered how he said I hated my dead-end job, so I added, “We actually just won an award for being one of the best ICUs in the nation.”

“The best?” He raised his eyebrows. “Even against St. George Hospital?”

St. George’s Hospital was the main competition for my hospital. They were the two hospitals that had teamed up to run the fundraiser.

“St. George is known for their cancer research. St. Austen is known for our amazing cardiac outcomes,” I explained. “I’m sure their CICU is good, ours is just better.”

He made a thoughtful noise and took a sip of his coffee. He smiled slightly like he was making fun of me.

“What?” I asked, trying to keep my temper.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. I gave him a disbelieving look, and he smiled. “You surprise me. Not many people contradict me.” He paused. “Or hit me for that matter.”

“I am sorry about that,” I told him. “I don’t usually hit people.”

“Why the ICU?” he asked, ignoring my apology again.

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone has a reason for the work they’re in,” he explained. “Why the ICU and not surgery or pediatrics?”

I thought about giving him a flippant answer. I thought about giving him the answer that it was just what was open when I applied, but I didn’t. I decided to be honest with him.

“My grandmother,” I told him. “She’s the reason I’m a nurse in the first place. She was a nurse, and I wanted to be just like her. She was this vibrant, sassy woman that loved the hell out of my sister and me. She had a heart attack while I was in nursing school.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied politely.

“I spent a lot of time with her in the ICU. I knew then that it was where I was supposed to be,” I continued.

“I imagine she’s proud of you,” he said. It almost sounded sincere.

“I hope so. She died a year after I graduated with my master’s degree.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. It sounded more sincere this time.

“So, now you’ve heard my life story,” I replied, not liking the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. I didn’t want his pity. “What about you? Why airplanes?”

“I inherited the business,” he said with a shrug.

“But you could have done anything you wanted,” I told him. “If you didn’t want to run the company, you could have sold it or made yourself just a figurehead so you wouldn’t have to do the hard parts.”

“Who says I haven’t done just that?” he asked, looking rather pleased with himself.