Sticky Situationship (It’s Complicated)

11. Epilogue | Libby |Two Months Later

Spring is in the air, thanks to warm sunrays filtering through the high rises down to the bustling streets of Soho as Zoe and I push through the heavy wooden door of The Flatiron, a neighborhood bar just around the corner from Manhattan General. The place, which has been around since the 1800s, is full of old wood and worn leather booths. The smell of beer and aged whiskey lingers in the air, mingling with the faint scent of polished brass.

“There they are!” Zoe squeals, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the back of the bar, where our fellow residents are clustered around a cobbled together collection of tall tables.

I cradle a box of homemade cupcakes in both hands as Dr. Hanson lifts a glass to wave us down as we weave our way through the Friday happy hour crowd.

“Dr. Bauer, Dr. Meyer,” he says in greeting, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.

“So you do own clothing other than lab coats and three piece suits,” Zoe says, eyeing his black polo as we settle in and exchange grins and high-fives with our colleagues.

Before Dr. Hanson can respond, a striking blonde bartender with a full-sleeve tattoo approaches, balancing a tray of champagne flutes.

“Compliments of a Dr. Novak,” she announces, setting down the tray with a flourish.

“Who knew they served champagne here?” Zoe says, plucking a flute off the tray as I glance around for Brock’s mom, who is nowhere in sight.

“What’s the special occasion?” the bartender asks, distributing the rest of the glasses among us.

“We passed our medical boards,” Zoe informs her, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Congratulations!”

A warm glow spreads through my chest. A feeling like I've been floating on air that's taken over ever since we got the official results earlier this week. It's over and done. Of course we're facing ongoing PD for the rest of our careers, but this phase, this test, is behind us. And I passed. We all did.

I wish Brock were here to join in the festivities. But he’s in the middle of a twenty-four-hour shift at the station and maybe out saving a life as we speak.

Zoe raises her glass. “To us! For surviving residency, acing our boards, and proving that sleep is totally overrated.”

Laughter erupts around the table as we clink glasses. The cold, crisp champagne bubbles tickle my nose and dance on my tongue. This moment is great, of course, but I wish Brock were here to share it. He’s been a rock these past few months, and once we worked through the miscommunication about his ‘girlfriend’ and confessed our true feelings, I was able to put in the hours of studying I needed to and spend time with him, too.

I pull out my phone and snap a selfie with my champagne, shooting it off to him with a quick text. Wish you were here .

Just as I hit send, a hush falls over the bar. I turn to see what's caught everyone's attention only to find a firetruck pulling up to the curb outside and an entire crew piling out. Led by a very familiar firefighter.

Seconds later, the bar’s front door swings open, letting in a gust of fresh air. My jaw drops as every eye in the place focuses on my man. Because there, framed in the doorway like some firefighter daydream come to life, stands Brock, backlit by the sun's long late afternoon rays. His navy shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and suspenders hold up his turnout gear pants over work boots. He’s holding an enormous bouquet of flowers and searching the crowd. For me.

I've never seen anything sexier in my entire life and my body responds in kind, my thighs clenching as desire pools in my low belly.

Three more firefighters, all three equally decked out, enter behind Brock and flank his sides while I nearly snap the champagne flute's stem in half.

“What. The. Hell?”

The question, which isn't a question so much as an expletive based on the way it trips over Zoe's lips, drags my gaze away from Brock. My best friend looks like she's seen a ghost, but before I can track what she's staring at, she spins sloshing her champagne.

"What?" I ask, completely bewildered at the uncharacteristic response.

"Not what," she says, grabbing her clutch and searching the back of the bar as if she's desperate to escape to the bathroom, "Who."

"Who what?"

I glance back toward the door but am distracted because at that exact moment Brock spots me in the crowd, and his eyes lock with mine. That familiar roguish smile spreads across his face, and my heart does a somersault. He passes the flowers to the firefighter on his right and makes his way toward me, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as every eye in the place swivels to see who he’s heading for.

And when he lifts me off my feet and presses a searing kiss to my lips, my knees go weak and the bar erupts in applause.

“What are you doing here?” I murmur against his lips, clutching him tight around the neck. “I thought you were working.”

“And miss celebrating the brilliant, officially board-certified Dr. Bauer?” he replies, his voice a warm rumble that sends shivers down my spine. “Never.”

"We're celebrating everyone," I say, as he sets me back on solid ground. "You remember Zoe, of course, and—"

"Zoe Meyer?"

The one holding the flowers, trailing a few steps behind Brock is the firefighter who's nearly shouted my best friend's name in the middle of the bar. He trips to a halt, the other guys barreling into his back. But the curly haired babyface is too preoccupied staring at Zoe—who apparently didn't have a chance to slip away—to notice.

And she's gone from white as a ghost to flushing scarlet in two point two seconds. "It's Dr. Zoe Meyer to you, Levi."

What the hell is right.

Zoe's lips press together and the way she cocks a saucy eyebrow at this man tells me they have history. A lot of history.

A slow smile spreads across this Levi guy's face.

"What did I miss," Brock murmurs in my ear, his arm looped over my shoulder as he looks from Zoe to Levi and back.

"I have no idea."

Levi takes another step toward Zoe, thrusting the bouquet of flowers toward Brock without so much as a glance in his direction.

"These are for you," Brock says, passing the enormous bouquet into my hands.

"Thank you," I whisper, inhaling the delicate scent of the gorgeous pink roses and white babies’ breath.

“We can’t stay long,” he adds, keeping an eye on the juicy scene unfolding in front of us.

“Thank you for coming.” I lean into him, grateful the patrons around us have something else to entertain them and are no longer eyeing my man. Even after these past two months together, Brock still takes my breath away. And makes me want him. All the time. Without even trying.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m so proud of you, Libby,” he says, his gray eyes shining. “You worked so hard for this.”

“You helped,” I tell him. “More than you know.”

It’s true. During all the late-night study sessions, the practice questions he quizzed me on, the balanced meals he made sure I ate when I was too stressed to care. I wasn’t wrong before. I didn’t and still don’t need a man in my life. But, hell, how I want one. And not just any one. This one . Because with him, things aren’t complicated. Nope, they couldn't be more simple.

Our friends, on the other hand. That's a different story.

“I'd better watch out," Levi announces to the bar, raking Zoe up and down with a heated gaze that makes me think he's seen her naked before. "Last time I saw this girl I ended up with a margarita thrown in my face."

She clicks her tongue. "Some things never change."

"Like my feelings for you?"

This seems to catch her off-guard based on the way Zoe's eyes narrow and it's a beat before she has a comeback. "I meant your memory."

"Oh, I remember every detail when it comes to you."

Zoe rolls her eyes, but inches closer to him. "It was a mojito."

Her correction only adds to his amusement as he erases the gap between them. But I've got to give her credit. Zoe stands her ground and lifts her chin even though this guy's a good foot taller than her, and adds, "And well deserved."

"Why? Because you—" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Because you're my brother's best friend. And a player to boot."

***

Dear reader,

Thank you so much for reading Sticky Situationship ! I hope you loved Libby and Brock's happily ever after.

Zoe and Levi's story is coming up next! Preorder Code Red Chemistry , a brother's best friend hot first responder steamy romcom today.

My brother's best friend is the last guy on earth I'd ever date. So why did I just bid on him at a charity auction?

I'll tell you why—because apparently finally finishing my residency and becoming a board certified physician has short-circuited my common sense.

After years of grinding study sessions and endless hours of residency, I couldn’t wait to let loose and celebrate. But just as the fun is ramping up, the last person I expect to saunter in the door does.

Sure, my brother’s best friend is a hot first responder—and has made me weak in the knees ever since that summer I realized the allure of washboard abs—but he's also a notorious player and decidedly off-limits.

I swear up and down to myself—and him—that I'm immune to his charm. But when my friend drags me to a charity auction for the fire department and he steps on stage, all sculpted muscles and cocky grin (in turnout gear, no less), a reckless impulse I blame on the champagne has me raising my paddle. Maybe because I know it means he’ll be dropping my panties.

But surely one time, er…I mean date will get him out of my system for good. It’s a surefire prescription for a cure.