Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Fifty-Nine

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Day 26

I smell puke.

To be more accurate, I smell puke, gin, cigarettes, and more puke.

There's a guy passed out at the bar next to me, and I've been trying to wake him up for the last fifteen or so minutes to no avail. Last call was half an hour ago, and this son of a bitch is still passed out on the bar counter, snoring away under a puddle of his own vomit like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Typical Friday night at the Mushroom.

I let out another exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as I leave his immobile body to go look for Rory, tonight's bouncer, to help me out with this douche.

The last few weeks have been shit.

Absolute shit.

Ever since grandpa's memorial, my life has basically been a shitty accumulation of time, stress, and disappointing situations; from finding out about Gran's mind-blowing debt and her sudden stroke, to my own health and academic issues, and last but certainly not least, what seems to be the crux of them all, Doctor Dexter Frost and his shameless proposal—a proposal that would theoretically solve all the other above problems. I'd essentially be using one evil to eradicate a handful of others.

It would seem like the smart, even logical thing to do considering I don't have many other options. But again, that's only in theory. And everyone knows that theory is a world away from the practical, real thing.

Plus, we're talking about a married man, here. He may not seem to care about that detail, but I sure as hell do. I may be a lot of things, but a homewrecker is absolutely not one of them.

But another part of me, the more desperate part, keeps begging me to just do it and get it over with. I mean, if he doesn't care about his vows and honoring his marriage, then why should I, right?

I release a deep, tired sigh. I can't believe how shitty my life has become and that this is the kind of thing I'm mentally fighting with myself over on a Friday night. More than that, I can't believe I've gotten into this much of a financial bind that I'm actually giving it some serious consideration! Needless to say, this situation is one hell of a mind fuck.

I spot Rory in the distance, talking with a girl outside. As I get closer though, I realize that they're arguing, their voices raised and their hands flailing. The girl looks distraught and on the verge of tears, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing around her face with all the angry words that leave her lips.

Uh oh...

I know this scenario. I've seen it play out quite a few times with him. He's undoubtedly breaking up with her, or maybe even telling her that whatever they had together never existed to begin with. Talk about bad timing. I must have one hell of a knack for getting myself into really awkward situations.

Either way, it won't end well for her. It never does. Not when Rory's involved. He's one hell of a commitment-phobe if I ever saw one in my life. After all, it takes one to know one. The only difference between he and I is that he doesn't mind sleeping around.

Their yelling quickly dies down once they realize they have an audience, and both of them turn their attention from each other toward me as I stand there feeling like an intruder.