WITHOUT THE UNIFORM

Edna began with the first call.

Evelyn had phoned ten days after the crash. Matteo answered in the library and sent the housekeeper out. More calls came in the following weeks. During one, Edna heard the young woman asking someone to tell her brother she hadn't abandoned him.

"I told Camille," she admitted. "She said you couldn't be given upsetting news. That she was following medical advice."

Nico laid the letter in his lap.

"And you believed her?"

Edna wiped her face.

"At first. Afterward, I wanted to keep believing her. I needed my job, and I was afraid of your father. I don't have a better answer than that."

I appreciated her honesty and felt angry at the same time. Nico might have found his sister months ago.

"Where did you get the letter?" he asked.

"It came before the crash. I found it among correspondence set aside by the office. I kept it because I thought one day I'd find the courage to give it to you."

He looked at the envelope.

"It took you a long time."

"Yes. It did."

There was no immediate forgiveness. Rafael noted the details and arranged for Patrick to speak with Edna properly. When she left, Nico sat by the window with the letter open in his hand.

I brought water and sat nearby.

"You don't have to keep watch," he said.

"I'm sitting down. It's been a long week."

He looked at me, then shifted his chair a few inches, making room beside the window.

The letter didn't reveal Evelyn's location. It said she couldn't keep pretending certain things their father did were normal, that she needed to speak to her brother away from the office, and that she hoped he'd answer next time.

"She called me that week," Nico said. "I was closing a deal. Told her I'd call back."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I always said that."

"You did try to find her before the crash."

"Too late."

I touched the edge of the letter.

"The last conversation you had doesn't have to be the only one you get."

He drew a breath.

"Do you believe that?"

I thought of my mother and the questions I'd never finished asking. The difference hurt.

"If she's alive and you both want to talk, there's a chance. I'd like you to have that chance."

He touched my fingers. This time, he threaded his through them.

We stayed until the city went dark.

The next morning, I caught myself choosing a blouse before remembering I needed scrubs. I sat on the bed with both in my lap and swore quietly.

I knew what was happening. I also knew pretending otherwise would be easier for a few days and much worse afterward.

I waited for Mara, the nurse covering my rest periods, to arrive. Handover went smoothly. Nico was reading a message from Patrick in the living room when I asked to speak to him.

"Has something happened to Wes?"

"No. This is about me. And you."

He set his phone aside.

I wanted to retreat into the hall.

"I can't keep being your primary nurse and pretend the only thing I think about is your next medication round."

His expression changed, but I couldn't immediately read it.

"You want to leave?"

"I want to separate things before I damage something that matters to me. I can complete a handover, brief the new team, make sure they know everything they need to know. But I can't use my job as an excuse to be near you."

He let out a slow breath.

"I've been trying to say that without sounding as if I was firing you so I could kiss you."

My heart jumped so obviously that he smiled.

"You don't have to look that pleased," I said.

"Good news has been scarce. Let me enjoy this one."

I spoke to the agency and Mercer. There would be other work for me, and I didn't have to grab the first available shift. Mara and a second nurse would take over the schedule. I spent the next few days handing over care I knew intimately to people capable of continuing it.

It wasn't easy. The first evening I heard Nico call for Mara instead of me, I felt the loss before the relief. I went home to collect Wes and discovered that missing someone could also mean I'd made the right choice.

On Friday, I returned in a green dress, a black coat, and very cold hands.

Nico opened the door. His dark shirt was rolled to the elbows. He'd trimmed his beard, and the slow smile he gave me erased the sentence I'd rehearsed in the elevator.

"You look beautiful."

"You're on time. That's new."

"I live here. Being late would be embarrassing."

He'd set a table by the window. Food from a restaurant he liked, low candles, no work folders. There was room for me beside him, rather than across the full width of the table.

"Did you do all this?"

"I selected the menu, argued with Rafael about where to put the flowers, and nearly knocked over a candle. I expect full credit."

I gave him full credit. I also gave him half my dessert when he admitted he'd chosen the wrong one.

We talked about small things, then larger ones. He asked what I'd do if I hadn't spent so much time picking up extra shifts. I told him about a class I'd dropped and a trip I'd been planning since I was nineteen.

"Do you still want to go?"

"Yes. I just never get that far in the planning."

"How far?"

"The part where I imagine actually being there. I'm excellent at researching flights for an imaginary person."

He ran a finger along the stem of his glass.

"I'm excellent at buying things I never learn to enjoy. Perhaps we both need practice."

After dinner, I moved my chair back a little and turned toward him. Nico raised his hand, then stopped before touching my face.

"I'm trying not to ask too many questions."

"This is a good time for one."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

I leaned closer. His hand settled against my jaw, warm and steady. The first kiss was more careful than I'd expected. The second wasn't. I caught his shirt and felt his laugh against my mouth when I moved closer still.

"I thought about this in the kitchen," he admitted.

"When?"

"When you told me I was being rude."

I laughed and rested my forehead against his.

"You have terrible taste in romantic moments."

"You stayed anyway."

I looked into his eyes, so close to mine.

"I'm not working tonight."

His smile slowly faded into something that tightened my chest.

"I know."

And he kissed me again.