Still, it's not as if any of it is as bad as my life was before the hospital.

Growing up in a boarding school, being tossed from foster home to foster home until I finally got to leave at eighteen. I got a scholarship and worked two jobs besides college to get myself through. I couldn't afford a medical degree, so I settled as a nurse. The pay was better than average, the hours were horrendous, and yet it offered the kind of security I'd been craving my entire life.

"Hey, Georgie." Dinah, my friend from the intensive unit wing, bumps her hip into mine and winks at me as I pass her in the hallway. "Dr. Martin's been asking about you again."

"He has?" I groan inwardly. "Wow, um..."

"Lost for words?" Katya laughs as she joins us, and we walk down the hallway together. We make quite the trio – Katya with her distinct Russian accent, a doll-like face and thin, perfectly poised body, and Dinah, who has ebony skin and wears her hair in braids woven together in an impressive bun. "Isn't it such an honor? He's totally into you, Georgie. Everybody knows it."

"I don't know if I'd call it an honor," Dinah cringes. "He's always seemed off to me. The guy's creepy."

"And you're jealous." Katya rolls her eyes.

“I’m happily married with three kids, bitch.” Dinah wiggles her fingers at her.

“And without sleep,” Katya teases and tugs on my arm. "What are you going to say when he finally asks you out?"

"I don't think he will." I dread the thought. I've always been a loner, and I'm not exactly looking to add another person to my tiny family. My cats are all I need.

"You're delusional, girl." Katya comes to a stop in front of the elevator and makes a face. "Well, it's down to the morgue for me. Let's hope the zombie apocalypse doesn't start today, ladies."

"Good luck!" Dinah and I say in unison, crossing our fingers. Our friend gets in the elevator and we take the stairs to floor one, where the good coffee machines are, and where Dinah works.

I'm not due at my station for another hour, but since I couldn't sleep anyway, I decided to surprise my friends with some fresh pastries from the corner bakery on my street. Now, as Dinah tucks into a bear claw, I'm glad I made that decision.

"So... About Dr. Martin," I mutter, looking down the hallway to ensure we're alone. "You really think he's going to ask me out?"

"Pretty sure he might." Her eyes sparkle as they lock with mine. "Would that really be so bad, Georgie? How long has it been since your last date?"

I grumble a reply, unwilling to admit the shameful truth.

It's been over a year since I broke up with my boyfriend Gabe, a guy who was recently promoted from intern to doctor and has since deemed me beneath him. I haven't even attempted to date since then. It's hopeless, and I've accepted a long time ago I'll just end up alone, anyway.

"I'm just not sure I see myself with him," I mutter. "He's what, forty-five?"

"So?" Dinah scrunches her face up at me. "Is that too old? Since when do you care about age? I thought you didn't want a family or to get married... This could be the perfect situation for you."

I groan, rubbing my eyes and watching her sink her teeth into a jam-filled donut. "I just don't want to make another mistake."

"Look, babe." Dinah reaches over and covers my hand with hers. "I know what happened with Gabe was a disaster, but you can't let it hold you back forever. There are plenty other fish in the sea, and you deserve to be happy."

I don't exactly agree with her, not because I don't think I deserve happiness, but because I don't need a man to give me that kind of security. I'm perfectly fine with my cats and my job – my life is full and busy enough. Adding a man to the mix would only bring trouble.

"Maybe we can figure out a way so I can let him down gently," I mutter, and now it's my friend's turn to groan.

"You can't spend your life running away," she reminds me. "Life's giving you another chance at happiness, Georgie. If you ask me, you should take it by the balls."

I laugh out loud and lift my head at the sound of approaching footsteps. My smile instantly fades when I see the person approaching us is none other than Dr. Martin. Speak of the devil...

"Hello, young ladies," he says in his deep, booming voice, and my stomach does a flip. I'm not sure whether it's because I'm icked out by the term he used, or because I'm excited.

Admittedly, Dr. Martin is a very handsome man, and as Dinah and I say good morning to him in unison, I find color flushing my cheeks. Damn my pale skin. I can't hide anything when I blush like an embarrassed five-year-old any time a man so much as looks in my direction.

"What a wonderful day we're having," Dr. Martin goes on pleasantly, and I give him a doubtful look. It's raining outside, and it's foggy as hell. Plus, working in the ER isn't exactly an experience I'd describe as wonderful.

Still, I find myself nodding to his words, sheepishly agreeing with anything he says. After all, his position is above mine in the hospital. I don't want to risk pissing him off. Dr. Martin is a powerful figure around here.

"I was wondering if I could speak to your friend in private, Dinah?"

"Of course," Dinah replies with delight, shooting me a meaningful look that seems to say two things – good luck, and don't fuck this up.

I manage a nervous smile before Dinah slides away from her seat, taking the box of pastries with her and winking at me. Then it's just me and the doctor, and my nerves which are already getting the best of me.

"Is this about a patient in the ER?" I ask dumbly, my heart pounding as Dr. Martin laughs easily. Of course, we both know it's not, but I still don't want to embarrass myself by being presumptuous. "If you need my help before my shift starts, I'd be happy to come down with you now."

"Don't worry, Georgina," he says with an amused glance my way. "This has nothing to do with work. I was just wondering whether you'd allow me to buy you a cup of coffee sometime."

"Oh?" I ask lamely, my heart racing. "You don't have to, Dr. Martin."

"I know I don't have to," he says firmly. "But I'd very much enjoy your company."

An uncomfortable silence descends upon us and I chew my bottom lip nervously as I whisper, "I'm just not so sure it's a great idea, Dr. Martin, I –"

"Andrew," he interrupts with a blinding, pearly white smile. "Please, sweetheart. Call me Andrew."

I don't like the pet name he's used, but I tell myself I'm picking up on the smallest of things again, so I swallow my reply and manage a shaky smile in his direction, repeating the name with an uncomfortable edge to my voice. "Andrew."

"Good girl."

Fuck.

Those two little words floor me, reminding me of all the other times I've heard them. The dirty videos I watch, where men whisper those two little words in whimpering women's ears, reminding them exactly who they belong to.

Instantly, I'm putty in the man’s hands, and I find myself smiling deliriously as he goes on.