Love in the ER

CHAPTER 14

The next few days at Salameda Health Care Center felt different, and Paris couldn't quite put her finger on why. Oliver had been keeping his distance lately. He wasn't avoiding her completely, but he was noticeably more reserved. No more casual conversations, no lingering smiles, no warm exchanges during rounds. He was still professional and polite, but there was a new layer of formality in their interactions that hadn't been there before.

And Paris felt it.

At first, she tried to brush it off, telling herself she was overthinking things. But the more she noticed it, the more it troubled her. Had she done something wrong? Had she misinterpreted the small moments between them—the easy smiles, the way he'd looked at her after she calmed down Mrs. Ramirez, the tension in the air when they shared that car ride?

She shook her head, frustrated with herself. What was I even thinking?

The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she felt. Had she actually convinced herself that Oliver might have liked her? That was ridiculous. He was the hospital owner's son, a brilliant doctor with a lot on his shoulders. Of course, he didn't have time for something as trivial as a crush on her. Whatever moments she thought they'd shared must've been purely professional—she'd just been reading too much into things.

Feeling foolish, Paris threw herself into her work. She focused on her patients, determined to push Oliver out of her mind. Her job was what mattered—helping people, taking care of her grandmother, keeping her head down. There was no room for distractions, especially ones that involved impossible daydreams about someone like Oliver.

Oliver, on the other hand, had his own internal battle. He had been deliberately keeping his distance from Paris ever since that day at the café when he saw her with Mateo. He hadn't meant to pull away so suddenly, but the jealousy he felt was still fresh in his mind, and he knew he couldn't let his feelings interfere with his work—or hers.

So, he'd forced himself to keep things strictly professional. No more lingering looks, no casual conversations that could blur the lines between colleague and something more. It was easier this way, he told himself. Easier to just focus on his responsibilities and forget about the way his heart sped up every time he saw her.

But it wasn't easy. Every time he caught a glimpse of her walking through the halls, or heard her laugh with Clara, that tug in his chest came back. And even though he kept his distance, it didn't stop him from thinking about her constantly—wondering if he'd made the right choice, if she had noticed the shift between them.

One afternoon, as Paris made her way through her rounds, she caught sight of Oliver talking to one of the other doctors across the hallway. Her heart did its usual flutter at the sight of him, but she quickly tried to ignore it. She had to stop this—this ridiculous feeling that there was something between them. She couldn't afford to get distracted by her own imagination.

As she passed by, Oliver glanced her way, but there was no spark in his expression, no warmth. Just the polite, professional nod he'd been giving her for days.

Paris's stomach twisted. What had she been thinking all this time? Of course, he didn't like her. They were just colleagues—he was probably just being friendly because they worked together closely. She felt stupid for even entertaining the idea that he might have been interested in her. What did she expect?

As she continued walking, her mind raced. She had to focus. Focus on work, focus on her patients, focus on her grandmother. That was her priority. Not whatever fleeting connection she thought she had with Oliver. She needed to let this go.

That evening, as Paris sat at her desk reviewing patient charts, Clara plopped down beside her with a sigh. "You've been awfully quiet lately," Clara remarked, eyeing her curiously. "Everything okay?"

Paris hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind."

Clara gave her a knowing look. "Uh-huh. And does any of that 'lot' have to do with a certain tall, brooding doctor we both know?"

Paris rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile at Clara's persistence. "No. And I mean it. There's nothing going on between us."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but you two have definitely been... off lately. You're not imagining that. Something's different."

Paris sighed, setting down the chart she'd been reviewing. "He's been keeping his distance. I don't know why, but I guess I just... I thought there was something between us. But now, I'm realizing that I must've been wrong."

Clara frowned, her playful expression replaced by concern. "What do you mean?"

Paris shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed even admitting it. "I thought maybe... I don't know, that there was something there. But he's been so distant, so formal. I'm starting to feel like I made it all up in my head."

Clara's frown deepened. "Paris, you didn't make it up. I saw the way he looked at you before—there was definitely something. Maybe he's just trying to play it cool."

Paris laughed softly, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. He's obviously not interested, and I need to stop thinking about it. I have too much going on to get caught up in something like this."

Clara studied her for a moment before sighing. "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to—or an excuse to dodge more awkward encounters with Mateo—you know where to find me."

Paris smiled. "Thanks, Clara."

As the day came to an end, Paris left the hospital with a renewed determination. Work first. She would throw herself into her responsibilities, take care of her grandmother, and stop letting herself get distracted by feelings that didn't matter. Oliver was just her colleague, nothing more.

But even as she told herself that, she couldn't shake the small, lingering hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong.