Page 87 of Clinically Awkward

No, too direct.

“Vivian, I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I don’t regret it. Do you?”

No, too passive.

“Vivian, I know you have a boyfriend, but he’s a terrible human being and you deserve better. Specifically, you deserve me.”

No, too Fitz.

I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.

This is impossible. How do people do this? How do people just... confess their feelings without spontaneously combusting?

My phone buzzed.

I grabbed it.

Vivian: On my way. Should I bring anything?

I stared at the message.

Yes. Bring a defibrillator because I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack.

Me: Just yourself.

Vivian: See you soon.

I set the phone down and took a breath.

Okay. Okay, I can do this. I’m a doctor. I handle emergencies. Trauma. Life-or-death situations. I can handle one conversation with the woman I’m in love with.

Probably.

The knock came exactly fifty-eight minutes later.

I opened the door, and there she was. Hair down now. She was wearing jeans and a sweater that made her look soft and warm and completely devastating.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I said back.

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and then she stepped inside, and I closed the door behind her, and suddenly the apartment felt smaller. Warmer. Like the air itself was charged with everything we weren’t saying.

“So,” she said, turning to face me. “We need to talk.”

“We do,” I agreed.

She walked to the couch and sat down, looking up at me with those eyes that had been haunting me for days.

Taking a seat next to her, I reached for her hand. “Vivian, before you begin, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

I took a breath.

Here goes nothing.

“What happened between us,” I said. “It wasn’t a mistake.” She opened her mouth, but I kept going. “I know you think it was. I know you’re probably sitting here trying to figure out how to let me down easy. But I need you to know, it wasn’t a mistake. Not for me.”