The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
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After that disgusting encounter with the old creep, I knew one thing for sure—I couldn't count on men anymore. If I wanted something, I had to make it happen myself. I'd just graduated med school, so I asked my husband to pull some strings and land me a position at the hospital.
He nudged me to hurry things along, and I gave him a half-hearted promise in return.
Truthfully, I was just buying time. I never actually planned to go through with finding another man to "get the job done." But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs.
Because then I met him.
The first time I saw him was during a graveyard shift.
It had been a slow night, so I'd turned in early. When the nurse buzzed me about a new patient, I dragged myself to the exam room—and there he was.
Tall—maybe six feet—with salt-and-pepper scruff and tousled, slightly curly hair. He had this effortless European charm. Later, I'd learn he'd spent five years in the States. Guess living abroad does something to a person.
After everything I'd been through, I was way past the age of swooning over a pretty face.
Life had started to feel like a dull rerun—nothing and no one could shake me out of it. But this man? He caught me off guard.
His father was the patient—mild cerebral ischemia. After explaining the diagnosis, I sat down to scribble my notes while he hovered nearby. That's when I realized—my scrubs had slipped.
It was summer, so I'd dressed light. Normally, I'd pin my collar shut, but the damn thing had fallen off. And let's just say I wasn't exactly wearing anything structured underneath.
Instinctively, I yanked my scrubs up, too mortified to look at him. Perfect. Not only had I flashed someone, but it was my patient's unfairly attractive son.
Smoothing my top, I forced myself to glance up casually. And what did he do? Winked at me.
Was this what living abroad did to people? Zero shame, zero filter?
Annoyed, I snapped, "Mind sitting over there? You're blocking the light."
"Sure thing… Vivian Roland?" He tilted his head. "Doesn't sound like a doctor's name. You don't look much like one either." His tone was playful, but it grated.
Since starting at this hospital, I'd learned the hard way that in this profession, age and appearance mattered more than skill. How many times had I explained that gray hair didn't equal competence?
"Sorry, but I'm the only one here. Unless you'd rather wait till morning?"
"Don't be mad." He smirked. "Just saying it's criminal to stick someone this pretty on night shift. Isn't there a child labor law against that?"
At 2 a.m., getting shamelessly flirted with by an older, ridiculously handsome man? Now that was a plot twist. Suddenly, my mood wasn't so sour anymore.
The next day, I was back on rotation—this time in the wards.
The second I walked in, the nurses were buzzing. Bed 3 has a new patient… and his son is seriously hot. A little older, though.
Him?
Let's be real—few men earned that kind of gossip here. During rounds with Dr. Sherwood, I confirmed it: he was the one standing by the bed.
Turns out, he and Sherwood were childhood friends. Thirty-nine. A journalist. Fresh back from overseas.
He nudged me to hurry things along, and I gave him a half-hearted promise in return.
Truthfully, I was just buying time. I never actually planned to go through with finding another man to "get the job done." But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs.
Because then I met him.
The first time I saw him was during a graveyard shift.
It had been a slow night, so I'd turned in early. When the nurse buzzed me about a new patient, I dragged myself to the exam room—and there he was.
Tall—maybe six feet—with salt-and-pepper scruff and tousled, slightly curly hair. He had this effortless European charm. Later, I'd learn he'd spent five years in the States. Guess living abroad does something to a person.
After everything I'd been through, I was way past the age of swooning over a pretty face.
Life had started to feel like a dull rerun—nothing and no one could shake me out of it. But this man? He caught me off guard.
His father was the patient—mild cerebral ischemia. After explaining the diagnosis, I sat down to scribble my notes while he hovered nearby. That's when I realized—my scrubs had slipped.
It was summer, so I'd dressed light. Normally, I'd pin my collar shut, but the damn thing had fallen off. And let's just say I wasn't exactly wearing anything structured underneath.
Instinctively, I yanked my scrubs up, too mortified to look at him. Perfect. Not only had I flashed someone, but it was my patient's unfairly attractive son.
Smoothing my top, I forced myself to glance up casually. And what did he do? Winked at me.
Was this what living abroad did to people? Zero shame, zero filter?
Annoyed, I snapped, "Mind sitting over there? You're blocking the light."
"Sure thing… Vivian Roland?" He tilted his head. "Doesn't sound like a doctor's name. You don't look much like one either." His tone was playful, but it grated.
Since starting at this hospital, I'd learned the hard way that in this profession, age and appearance mattered more than skill. How many times had I explained that gray hair didn't equal competence?
"Sorry, but I'm the only one here. Unless you'd rather wait till morning?"
"Don't be mad." He smirked. "Just saying it's criminal to stick someone this pretty on night shift. Isn't there a child labor law against that?"
At 2 a.m., getting shamelessly flirted with by an older, ridiculously handsome man? Now that was a plot twist. Suddenly, my mood wasn't so sour anymore.
The next day, I was back on rotation—this time in the wards.
The second I walked in, the nurses were buzzing. Bed 3 has a new patient… and his son is seriously hot. A little older, though.
Him?
Let's be real—few men earned that kind of gossip here. During rounds with Dr. Sherwood, I confirmed it: he was the one standing by the bed.
Turns out, he and Sherwood were childhood friends. Thirty-nine. A journalist. Fresh back from overseas.
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.