Work Text:
The first call comes as you are walking into the PTMC that morning, your bag slung over your shoulder and one hand in the pocket of your jeans.
The frown comes with immediacy across your face as you realize you are unsure of who would be calling so early in the morning. You step to the side of the emergency room floor and brandish the vibrating mobile from your pocket. It is not a saved number in your phone, so you silence it without thinking twice about it. Spam calls these days have become so common that you average at least one a shift.
Crisis averted, you head to the nurse’s station and get changed into your scrubs. Even at three in the morning, the ER is already buzzing with life. You greet a few of the frequent fliers you pass on the way, an unshakable grin on your cheeks.
Once you’re dressed, the day officially begins. Despite yourself, you find your eyes jumping from person to person, eagerly looking for one doctor in particular.
But he finds you before you do him. You jolt when his arm brushes against yours as you stand near the charge station. You angle your head in his direction and you feel your heart skip a beat as you focus fully on him.
“Hey,” you say to Jack, trying—and failing—to refocus on the schedule in front of you.
He doesn’t even try to look busy as he drags a hand through his silver curls, eyes twinkling despite their exhaustion. “You’re starting early.”
You half-shrug, flipping the page over, scanning quickly through the patient list. “Lena needed another nurse on deck… something about Jacob’s paternity leave. So, here I am.”
“Here you are.”
You look at him fully then, an affectionate smile creeping across your face. “How’s the shift been? Chaotic?”
Jack shakes his head. He rubs his temple as if doing so would release every worry from his head. “Uh, it’s been about the same. So, catastrophic on every level. I had—“
Your Apple Watch suddenly buzzes twice in quick succession and your attention is unintentionally diverted. You frown, again confused why you were receiving nonessential notifications. When you open the screen, two text messages are there from an unknown number. You can’t preview the messages from your watch before the screen goes black, so you have no idea what they might contain.
“Everything okay?” Jack reminds you of his presence when he asks this, and you briefly look up at him to let him know you heard his question.
“Yeah, not sure what’s going on today.” You push and hold to silence the watch. “Spam callers are having a field day, I guess. Bet they just texted to let me know I have to click this sketchy link to prevent my nonexistent car from being repossessed.”
“Better get on that,” your boyfriend says with a light chuckle, “you know the United States government has an invested interest in your nonexistent car and those nonexistent toll fees.”
You grin at his sarcasm. Finally dissuaded from checking your notifications, you look up at him. “Now if only they could adjust their pitch to match Pittsburgh public transportation.”
“—Yo, lovebirds,” Lena’s voice commands attention from every corner of the room, and you feel your spine immediately go ramrod from her tone. “I got patients back here that would love an ounce of your undivided attention.”
Despite her tone, you know she’s not truly angry. You place a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek, then head over to your charge nurse. The text messages, phone call, and even Jack migrate to the back of your head as you get sucked into work.
— — —
You haven’t thought about your ex in a long ass time. It’s hard to reconcile that at one point in your life, he’d been all you thought about.
You had met in nursing school. He was the sweet, handsome, charismatic guy who sat next to you in pharmacology. It was hard to see in your young, 20-something-year-old brain the glaring red flags. Or perhaps you had ignored them in favor of the relationship.
You had the habit of focusing on the positives more than you did the negatives of any situation, especially regarding relationships. You focused on the fact that he always brought you a coffee when he got himself one, the fact that he would wrap his arm around you and tug you to his side when talking with friends, how he’d always make up for arguments with gifts and affection.
But as time wore on, his negatives only became more pronounced. He was not used to working hard for his degree in college—that is what happens when daddy pays for you to have good grades in undergrad—and flunked out. He blamed you for being a distraction to his schooling, but never dared breaking up with you. He started getting too adventurous with his drug usage, to the point finding his next fix took priority over everything else.
You broke up with him a year ago. Six months ago, you started dating Jack.
Jack is everything that he wasn’t. He’s responsible. Everything he has he’s had to work for. He loves you, and does not put you on the back burner when life gets messy, instead, he tries to make it work. Most importantly, though? He doesn’t fucking blame you for all his problems.
You stare at the phone in a stunned silence.
All it takes was two texts for you to remember why you hated being single those six months you were. The audacity of some men was truly astounding.
???: did you really just ignore my call? who the hell do you think you are?
And then, literally, seconds later:
???: are you in town, babe? maybe we could grab some drinks?
One might wonder how you knew it was him, but it’s just so obvious. No one else would be texting at five in the fucking morning looking to get drinks after a year no-contact. It’s the kind of insane behavior one could only expect from him.
You shake your head after a few moments of staring blankly at your phone and stand. You throw the last bits of your meal away and drop your phone back off into your locker. As you step out of the nurse’s area, you notice Lena waving you over from across the room.
You make it over to her in two quick strides, eager to get your mind the hell away from whatever those texts were.
Those dreams are dashed the second you notice Lena giving you a concerned look.
“Hey hon.” Hon? She never calls you that. “We have a man in North 2 asking for you by name. Want to take it?”
You cock a brow, mind moving a mile a minute as you try to quickly go through who that could be. But the texts still linger in your mind from moments before and you get stuck on one thought. Would he really be so stupid… so deplorable… to get himself admitted to your ER?
You sigh and nod, straightening your scrub top nervously as you approach the patient room door. You pause for a moment, trying to will yourself to just knock on the door. When you finally do, a smiling brunette answers it—not exactly what you’d been expecting.
“Are you the doctor?” she says, entirely too caffeinated and hyper for being in a hospital at five in the morning.
“I’m the nurse,” you tell her, smiling tightly. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, right.” She lets out a laugh. “Sorry, I see that on your badge now.”
She steps aside and you take at most two steps before your stomach drops to your feet. There he is, in all his glory. Considering the fact that you haven’t seen him in a year and he’s gained at least thirty pounds, you applaud yourself for recognizing him so quickly. He’s got one arm covered in gauze, and blood seems to have already soaked through.
The woman who’s with him goes to his side, stroking his unhurt arm gently. Poor girl, you think, if only she knew what she was getting herself into.
“I’m just going to take your vitals.” Strict professionalism. That is your aim for working with him. You grab the blood pressure cuff and loop it around his upper arm.
“Babe, how about you go get me a coke?” His voice is just as dry and grumbly as you remember. Once upon a time, you’d found it attractive. Now it was just grating.
You squeeze the cuff as the girl nods cheerily and practically skips out of the room. He lets out a quick breath through his teeth when you maybe squeeze it one time too hard. An honest mistake, really. You type down his blood pressure dutifully in his patient chart.
You gesture toward the door where the woman just slipped out. “Where’d you pick a girl like that up at?”
“Eh, she’s just some squeeze.” He shrugs. “Nothin’ compared to you, babe.”
“I see your limitless assholery has remained the same.” You type a few more numbers into his chart, refusing to give him the eye contact he so desperately searched for. “So, what? You just so happened to cut yourself after texting me for the first time in a year?”
He winces as you reach over to pull back the bandage. It’s not too bad. You probe the edges of skin once, twice, then pull the bandage back over it. It looks like it might need stitches, which means, unfortunately, he will have to stay longer.
“Would you respond to me otherwise?” He makes a good point. You would never answer the phone if you knew he was on the other line. However, faking an injury and taking the bed of a person who might actually need it? Now that’s just wrong.
You snap your gloves off and go to add one more note to his file. Do not administer Oxycodone-based medications. That last bit of information comes from personal experience.
“Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?” you ask, leaning up against the door of the room.
He doesn’t have to think on it for long. “Good.”
“The good news is that you will not be seeing me much more for the rest of your stay here. The bad news is you will have to stay a little longer. A doctor will need to come assess your wound.”
“How’s the good news good? I came here specifically to see you,” he says, his tone annoyed.
You give him your best attempt at a smile. “Oh right–that’s good news for me, not you. Have a good day.”
You leave the room quickly after that, ignoring his protests as you do. You pass the brunette on your way to the charge station, and you offer her a pitying smile. Poor girl really has no idea who she’s getting involved with, does she?
Leaning across the charge desk, you pinch your nose bridge in between your fingers and attempt to take several deep breaths.
Of all the things you’d seen in this profession; all the people that had been lost along the way… somehow, the hardest struggle was having to face your ex. How ridiculous was that?
“You good?” The sudden question is punctuated by a loud slurp of a drink, and you know who it is before you even turn your head.
“Hey Shen,” you greet him curtly. He shakes around the Dunkin’ drink in his hand, the ice cubes clinking together.
“You and Jack having some trouble in paradise?” Shen says before taking another loud sip of his drink.
You can’t help the short laugh from snorting out of your nostrils. “No, no,” you tell him, “if only it were that.”
Shen narrows his eyes. He looks you up and down as if trying to discern the issue.
You sigh. “My ex. He’s in North 2. He faked an injury to see me.”
“No way.” Shen laughs. “Listen, I have some pretty crazy exes, but even they haven’t done anything that crazy.” His tone shifts when he realizes you aren’t in the same jovial mood. He steps forward, expression drawn tight. “You need help?”
You look off to the side, pondering. It would suck if Jack had to meet him. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t want Jack to know as it was that you didn’t want to have to deal with the embarrassment of having dated that thing for a brief point in your life.
“You free? Think you could inspect his wound? Maybe put in some stitches?”
Shen cocks a brow. “You sure you don’t want Jack to do that? Need him to go all macho on him?”
“I’d rather Jack not be involved.” You shift uneasily on your feet. “Not because he’s possessive, but because I worry my ex might get… unruly.”
Shen nods, then puts his drink down on the counter, even though Lena had expressedly requested he not do that. “Give me fifteen. I’ll meet you back here for consult.”
You watch for a few seconds as he strides away, then you avert your eyes to your hands. They’re shaking, but you’re not sure why. You aren’t scared of your ex—but that doesn’t mean you aren’t upset by his reappearance in your life.
You hadn’t been one of those couples that said “let’s just be friends!” even once they broke up. You’d been more so the type that you blocked each other’s numbers and you moved your entire career and livelihood to get away from him. It felt like two worlds colliding, him being here, where you were now a successful nurse and not his overly-reliant girlfriend.
As you continue to stand by the desks, you notice Jack stepping out of a patient’s room down the hall. You turn your back and attempt to look busy in sorting paperwork, but you know he’s seen you.
His voice breaks through your thoughts just as you begin to think he’s not coming over. “Working hard or hardly working?”
You smile despite yourself. “Hey,” you say, turning your head.
His eyebrows furrow as he gets closer to you, able to see you more clearly. He leans beside you on the counter, chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s worried about you—he always does that when he is. “You alright?”
You knew he was going to ask this, but it still catches you off-guard.
You don’t want to lie to him, but you don’t want to tell him the truth either. Subjecting Jack to your ex was not high on your to-do list. If all went well, no one would have to deal with him other than Shen. Besides, you don’t need a man to stick up for you. You could handle him just fine on your own.
You shrug. “Sometimes I forget how chaotic the night shift can be.”
He leans forward, voice soft. “If you’re struggling, I’m sure Lena will be understanding…”
You put your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze. “I’m okay, Jack. I promise. Besides, your shift is over in, what, an hour and a half? Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll try,” he tells you, “but you have a way of making it into my head whether I want you to or not.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
“—You ready to go, my favorite nurse?” you hear Shen say from behind you. He reaches between you and Jack to grab his drink, taking a long sip. The seriousness of the conversation he just interrupted is completely lost on him. He turns to Jack. “Oh, hey man. Didn’t see you there.”
Your boyfriend cocks a brow at you. “What’s going on?”
“A consult,” Shen replies simply.
Jack looks at you like he’s expecting a more in-depth explanation. You smile teasingly and pat his arm. “Back to work, doc. Patients won’t save themselves.”
Jack rolls his eyes affectionately as you step away, but once your back is turned, the expression falls away.
You clutch the suture kit cart as Shen knocks on the patient door then uses his hip to push it open. He stands to the side as you enter. Your ex’s new girlfriend shoots to her feet as you push the cart in, her eyes wide. You offer her what you hope is a comforting smile.
“Hello, hello,” Shen says as he takes a seat on a rolling stool next to his bed. “I’m Dr. Shen and I’m going to be taking care of you today. I hear you have a cut on your arm?”
Your ex doesn’t look at him as he replies, his eyes on you and the suture kit. “I slipped.” He reaches over to remove the gauze on his arm.
“Is it going to need stitches?” The girlfriend asks from behind you.
Shen inspects the wound carefully, eyes moving slowly across the ripped skin. He pulls away and nods. “Yeah, I think a few stitches. It’s pretty deep and jagged along the edges. What was it you slipped on?”
He moves out of the way so you can begin flushing the wound. You ignore the fact that your ex is flexing his muscles as you grab the cleanser, completely locked into your work.
“My damn hunting knife,” he says, “it’ll leave a pretty nice scar though, huh?”
You roll your eyes without even really meaning to, and you feel your ex’s glare on you.
“Go ahead and put some lidocaine in,” Shen tells you. He turns to your ex. “Don’t want you to feel your skin being pulled together with a needle, do we?”
Your ex goes pale as you grab the syringe and fill it with the liquid. “Uh, could I… does it have to have stitches?”
“Trust me, honey, you do not want sepsis,” his girlfriend says, “my cousin got it and—“
“—Just be quiet,” your ex snaps at her. You flinch at the tone, and accidentally spill a little bit of the liquid on the table.
Shen steps up behind you, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You know he wants to comfort you, but you’re glad he keeps his distance. “Your girlfriend is right,” he says, “lots of nasty things can happen if you let a cut like that not heal properly.”
You gently guide the needle into the skin above his wound and push the liquid inside. You turn to your ex as you pull the needle away. “It should be completely numb in a few minutes.”
You step back to let Shen take the seat again. You turn to look out the window of the room only to lock eyes with Jack. He’s talking to Lena, but his eyes are on you. You look away. You nervously shift on your feet, clutching your hands across your front.
“So, uh.” Your ex’s eyes are on you as he starts to speak. Your lips draw into a thin line. “You guys get out much? Have boyfriends, girlfriends?”
Shen knows who the question is aimed at, yet he answers anyway. “Eh, it’s kind of difficult,” he says, poking and prodding the arm. “I’m not much for commitment.”
You refuse to reply.
“Okay, I think it’s numbed up, I’m going to go ahead and start,” Shen tells him. “Maybe try not to look at it. I find my patients who don’t usually have the best time with this.”
You hand Shen the threaded needle and help clamp the skin together with forceps.
“And you?” His fucking mouth.
You barely look up from his wound as your ex says this. “What?”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“Honey, I think they’re concentrating right now,” his girlfriend butts in. You shoot her an appreciative smile and keep your hands steady as Shen guides the needle through the first point.
“Surely she can answer a question,” he huffs, “I mean she’s just holding a clamp. I can do that.”
You shake your head and barely murmur, “I’m not doing this here. Not now.”
Shen goes through the third point, drawing the skin together tightly.
A few moments pass and you think he’s given up. Then, he says, “I just don’t understand what the big deal is. Why can’t you answer the question?”
You clench your jaw, barely able to conceal your irritation. Shen shoots you a look, but then goes back to sewing.
“C'mon, really?” he continues.
“I have a boyfriend—is that what you so desperately want to hear?!” your voice is unexpectedly loud, and you immediately regret the outburst after it leaves your lips.
The girlfriend looks shocked—hurt, probably realizing that your connection with her boyfriend goes beyond a normal patient-nurse relationship. Your ex looks equal parts annoyed as he does satisfied with your outburst. Like he’d just proved some point in his head about how you weren’t all perfect.
Shen turns his head and says, “scissors.”
You hand him the utensil and he pulls the thread taut before snipping it.
Your ex lets out a short laugh. You cock a brow, worried that someone had slipped him something.
“I don’t believe you.”
You roll your eyes. “Good thing I don’t care if you do or don’t.”
Shen turns to you. “I can wrap up here if you need to step out.”
You’re already halfway out the door by the time he says this. You move quickly to the stairwell, passing concerned nurses and doctors as you do. Once you are out the door, you have to bend over to catch your breath. Pressing the palms of your hands hard against your eyes, you will yourself not to get upset.
Only he could get you that flustered with hardly a word. And you fell for his bait every single time. You lean against the wall and try to steady your breathing.
A few minutes pass. More than you are sure that Lena would allow. The doors to the stairwell open and you turn to the side, hoping the person there can take a hint.
Unfortunately, Jack is persistent.
He gently grabs your arm and pulls you to his side. You allow him, and the stress of the day flows out of you with your muffled tears. You cushion your head against his chest, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He strokes the top of your head while the other arm holds you just as tightly.
Once you’ve released all the emotion you can handle, you pull back a little, wiping your eyes. Jack doesn’t let you get far, keeping you close to his chest.
“Shen told me you were upset,” he says, “what’s going on?”
You sniffle, trying to look away. He gently guides your head back to meet his eyes with his thumb on your chin. His fingers slide up to cup your cheek and you melt into his grip. “Talk to me, love.”
A fresh set of tears escape your eyes at the sweetness of his voice. The caring, affectionate man in front of you was so much better than anyone you’d ever been with. It makes you feel silly for crying, silly for complaining.
“This morning, when my watch buzzed.” You hiccup. “It wasn’t a spam number. It was my ex-boyfriend.”
You watch Jack’s face carefully as you say this, trying to predict his next words before he says them. You thread your fingers in his scrubs, anchoring yourself to him.
“Then, he showed up as a patient. He intentionally hurt himself to see me. And he’s been rude and crass, sure, but that’s not even what bothers me the most.” You wipe your eyes with the palm of your hand, knowing you must look a mess. “I don’t want him back in my life. Never. He… just doesn’t belong here. It makes me sick thinking he’s trying to worm himself into my perfect life that I’ve built without him.”
You pause, taking a panicky breath in. “I don’t want him to come between us. I don’t want you to think… I don’t want you to think less of me because of him. I mean, I can’t believe I ever dated him. He’s awful.”
Jack strokes your cheek, letting you get it all out. When he’s sure you’re finished, he speaks.
“First of all,” he says, “I’m never going to judge you for people you no longer have in your life. If you chose to get rid of them, I know there’s a hell of a good reason. And, personally, I think you’re a great judge of character. I don’t want to hang out with someone you don’t like.” You avert your eyes bashfully, but Jack angles your head so you’re still looking at him.
“Secondly, don’t blame yourself for the choices of stupid people. Just because you once associated with him, doesn’t mean you still stand by his choices today,” he says. “I love you. I mean that. And that means I trust you, implicitly. I wouldn’t have tried to get in the way—well, let me rephrase that. If you weren’t in imminent trouble and I thought you had it handled, I wouldn’t intervene with your issues.”
You let out a soft laugh at that last part.
For a moment longer, the two of you stand there. He strokes your hair, you clutch his scrubs. Finally, you release him.
“I’ve got thirty more minutes left before the day shift inevitably arrives,” he says, “so, what do you want to do?”
You shake your head. “Honestly? I hope he disappears.” You push open the door with your hip. “But if he doesn’t, then I’ll let you know.”
You step into the buzzing ER and let out a deep breath. You start to head to the bathroom, when your eye gets caught on a figure quickly headed in the other direction. Her dark hair bounces against her back as she jogs away, her hand covering her face. The girlfriend. You imagine that their conversation didn’t go over well.
Your ex steps out after her, clutching his now-bandaged arm. He looks at her retreating back for a moment before he rolls his neck back, peeved. As he turns to go back in the room, he halts. Then his eyes lift and immediately lock onto yours.
A rehearsed grin spreads across his mouth. You turn your back, but he reaches you before you can push open the door to the bathroom.
He grabs your shoulder and you spin around, pushing him away disgustedly.
“Don’t ever touch me,” you say through gritted teeth.
“Woah, woah,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Easy there, tiger.”
He jumps in front of you when you go to push open the bathroom door.
“Hey, just listen to me.” His eyes are like a weasel’s, predatory and conniving. “Just let me say my piece.”
“I’m not interested,” you tell him. “What part of that can’t you get through your thick skull?”
“Is this about the cheating thing? Are you really still mad about that?”
“You really are oblivious, aren’t you?” You roll your eyes. “You can stick your dick in any hole you like. It’s none of my business. Why? Because we aren’t dating.”
You turn your back when you remember you have makeup wipes in your bag. But you can’t get far before a hand wraps around your wrist like steel. You don’t have a moment to think, your body reacts before your mind can. You turn and punch him squarely in the jaw.
He releases you immediately and lets out a loud groan, falling back against the bathroom door. He clutches his jaw with a fury in his eyes unlike you’ve ever seen.
“I said, don’t touch me, asswipe.”
He comes toward you, as if to retaliate, but then you feel an arm pushing you behind a sturdy body and your view is cut off.
“Who the hell are you?” your ex says, gesturing to Jack with a foul expression.
You look down at your hand and realize it’s bleeding. Your thumb might be sprained—you aren’t sure. It throbs painfully, but you can move it at least.
“I’m her boyfriend.” You peer around Jack’s shoulder and realize that your ex looks about ready to piss himself. “But that doesn’t matter. When someone asks for space, that’s when you back the fuck off.”
“—What’s going on here?” A voice cuts in. You turn your head to see Ahmad there, his hand resting on his holster.
You step forward. “Ahmad. Could you escort this patient out? He should be ready for discharge. I’ll fill out all the proper HR paperwork—this is all just a big mistake.”
“Hey, hey,” your ex says, waving his hand toward Ahmad, “I’m not taking the fall for this.”
Ahmad grabs your ex’s shoulder before he can reach out and grab you. You look back and see Jack and Shen are there, both willing to corroborate.
You look back at your ex. “It’s time to go. And don’t come back.”
“Unless you get seriously injured in the vicinity of our hospital, then you can—“ Shen starts to say, but Jack elbows him in the side.
Your ex stares at you for a full second. Then he turns his head. You think he’s given up, then he mutters a very clear, resounding bitch underneath his breath and Jack is stepping forward before you can stop him.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Jack,” you call out.
Your ex looks at him square on. “She heard me.”
Jack clenches his fists. You reach forward to grab his shoulder. You look over at Ahmad, who then forcefully turns your ex around and leads him away.
“Jack, it’s okay,” you say. “I’ve heard worse, believe it or not.”
“He can’t just…” he starts to say, then shakes his head.
“I love you,” you tell him softly. “And I’m okay.”
Shen gets drawn into an incoming trauma and hurries away. You clutch your still-bleeding hand to your chest, which draws Jack’s attention.
“Shit,” he curses. “Why didn’t you say you’ve never punched someone before? I could’ve done it.”
Your hand is still shaking as you follow him to an empty exam room. He opens the door and you shuffle in.
“It’s really not that bad,” you say, “it’s mostly the adrenaline making me shake.”
Jack keeps his back to you in the room, looking through cabinets quickly. You sigh.
“Really, Jack, I needed to punch him. For my own mental wellbeing. I’d be kicking myself later if I hadn’t,” you say with a soft laugh.
Jack retrieves some bandages and disinfectant. He takes a seat on a rolling stool in front of where you sit perched on an exam bed, swinging your feet back and forth. Jack gently grabs your hand and looks over your injuries.
“How are you so calm right now?” he asks, unfolding a disinfectant swab. “Your ex just verbally assaulted you in front of the entire ER floor.”
You hiss through your teeth as he dabs the swab against your torn knuckles. He gives you an apologetic look, but doesn’t let up.
“I’m sure I’ll start panicking later, once everything settles in.” You wince again as he wraps your knuckles.
“Can you move your thumb?”
You move it side to side, then up and down. Confusion washes over you as he inspects it. “How’d you know I hurt my thumb?”
He laughs. “I haven’t seen a fist that bad since I was sixteen. You can’t tuck your thumb inside your fist when you punch—you’re lucky you didn’t break it.”
You pout. “I thought I did good.”
He lets go of your thumb to cup your cheeks together in his palms. “I didn’t say it was terrible. You still packed a pretty mean hook.”
You can’t resist. You lean forward to give him a kiss. He returns it wholeheartedly, angling your head with his palm.
You pull away before it can devolve into something inappropriate for a hospital setting. He strokes the back of your neck even as you pull apart, his eyes soft and heavy-lidded.
“You better go brief the day shift," you tell him, “I’m sure they’ve already heard plenty about your eventful night. You know Shen loves to gossip.”
He bites his lip and throws his head back with a groan. “God, all I want to do right now is go to sleep.”
“At least you don’t have to do HR paperwork with a hurt hand.”
“You got me there,” he says, gently tugging you to his side as he heads to the door. “You’re off tomorrow, right? Want to come over to my place?”
You grin at him. “I’d love nothing more.”