Love in the ER

CHAPTER 29

It had been a long day at the hospital, and Paris was ready to head home. Her mind was still swirling with thoughts about Denise, the baby, and how everything with Oliver seemed to be in a constant state of tension. She needed to clear her head, but just as she was walking down the hallway toward the exit, she heard Matteo call her name.

"Paris, wait!" Matteo called, catching up to her. His tone made her pause, though she immediately regretted it.

Paris sighed, feeling her patience thinning. She turned, her expression tired but resolute. "What is it, Matteo? I'm on my way out."

Matteo's face was a mixture of frustration and something more desperate. He stepped closer, his voice low but intense. "I've been hearing things... about you and Oliver. About the baby."

Paris's heart sank. Of course, the hospital rumors had spread like wildfire. The last thing she needed was Matteo getting involved in her personal life. She crossed her arms, trying to maintain her calm. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It is my business," Matteo said, his tone more forceful than before. "I care about you, Paris. I've always cared about you, and now... this? You deserve better."

Paris's eyes narrowed, and she took a small step back. "Matteo, we've been through this before. I'm with Oliver. That hasn't changed, and it won't change."

Matteo's frustration flared. "How can you stay with him?" he demanded, his voice growing harsher. "He's going to be tied to another woman for the rest of his life, Paris. You're going to be second place in his life once that baby is born. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Paris clenched her fists, feeling her temper rising. She had spent weeks dealing with this emotional turmoil, and now Matteo was trying to sow more doubt. She didn't need this—not from him.

"I love Oliver," Paris said, her voice steely. "I've made my choice. It's not up for discussion."

Matteo's face hardened, anger flickering in his eyes. "You're making a mistake. You know it, and deep down, you're going to regret it."

Paris felt the sting of his words, but she wouldn't let them show. She shook her head, her voice unwavering. "No, Matteo. The only mistake would be letting someone like you come between me and Oliver."

Matteo's eyes darkened with frustration, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. But don't expect me to be around when it all falls apart."

Without another word, Paris turned and walked away, leaving Matteo standing in the hallway, his face tight with barely-contained anger. She could feel his eyes on her back, but she didn't stop. She was done with this conversation.

Unseen by Paris, Denise stood off in the distance, watching the entire exchange unfold from behind a corner. She had been on her way to meet with someone at the hospital when she saw Paris and Matteo together, and curiosity had gotten the better of her. She had lingered just out of sight, and now, after witnessing the heated conversation, she couldn't help but smile.

Perfect.

Denise's mind began to work quickly, calculating how best to use this information to her advantage. She had known Matteo had feelings for Paris for a while—everyone in the hospital knew, though it was rarely spoken aloud. Now, after seeing the tension between them firsthand, Denise saw an opportunity. If she could twist the situation just right, she could make it look like Paris wasn't as loyal to Oliver as she claimed to be.

Denise's smirk widened as a plan began to form in her mind. She didn't need to do much—just plant a few seeds of doubt here and there, and let people start talking. Oliver was already under so much pressure with the baby, his father, and the constant scrutiny from his family. A little rumor about Paris and Matteo could be the push needed to make everything unravel.

Satisfied with what she had seen, Denise slipped away unnoticed, already thinking about how to use what she had learned.

That evening, as Paris arrived at Oliver's apartment, the weight of her conversation with Matteo still lingered in her mind. She didn't want to dwell on it, but the way Matteo had spoken to her—the way he had tried to manipulate her feelings—had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

When she stepped into the apartment, Oliver was already there, sitting on the couch, flipping through a few documents. He looked up when she walked in, immediately noticing the tension in her face.

"Paris, what's wrong?" he asked, setting the papers down and standing up to greet her.

Paris sighed, setting her bag down and running a hand through her hair. "I ran into Matteo at the hospital today."

Oliver's expression darkened slightly, but he kept his voice calm. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to talk," Paris said, her voice thick with frustration. "He kept pushing—saying that I deserve better than you. He even implied that once the baby's born, I'll be second place in your life."

Oliver's eyes flashed with anger, though it wasn't directed at Paris. "He has no right to say that to you."

"I know," Paris said, her voice softening. "I told him it wasn't his business, but..."

"But?" Oliver pressed, stepping closer to her.

Paris sighed again, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. "I don't know. It just got to me, I guess. I've been trying so hard not to let this situation with Denise and the baby get in my head, but Matteo brought up every fear I've been trying to push down."

Oliver's expression softened, and he reached out to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. "Paris, listen to me. Matteo is just trying to get between us because he knows he can't have you. That's all this is. You're not second place to anyone."

Paris looked into his eyes, feeling her heart steady at the certainty in his voice. "But what about when the baby's here, Oliver? What if—"

"Nothing changes between us," Oliver interrupted gently. "Yes, if the baby is mine, I'll take responsibility, but that doesn't mean I love you any less or that you'll take a back seat in my life. You're my future."

Paris exhaled, the knot in her chest loosening as she leaned into him. "I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Oliver whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You won't lose me, Paris. Ever."

But even as they held each other, neither of them knew that Denise was already working on her plan—a plan that would soon turn their world upside down.