#conllie

[purpledaisiesthings]

The Resident will be greatly missed.

This was one of the few remaining network shows I kept up with. I'm biased, but it's honestly one of the best medical dramas out there.

When it first aired, I remember thinking, "Wow, this is different." Then I kept watching, and I just fell in love with all these characters and their stories. Episode after episode I got sucked into these very relatable stories and medical cases of the week. Till today, the episode that still gets me every time is S02ep20 (episode title: If Not Now, When?). That episode was personal for me. That was when the show became more to me.

That's what the show is about at the heart. It's relatable, it's current but still very high stakes. I always rooted for Conrad to diagnose his patients on time before it was too late, and it hurt when he couldn't. which I appreciated because as much as this is a fictional show where we want everything to have a happy ending, these characters are human and there is only so much one can do. Whether it was an undiagnosed patient for Conrad, or a bad surgical outcome for the ever brilliant Dr. Austin AKA the Raptor, we got to see the human in these characters.

We got to see these characters grow and enter into different life stages. We saw the good, the bad, and the ugly. I will never stop giving credit to the character development of Bell. I would never have thought that this character whom I loathed so much in the beginning became one of my most loved. And even after some main characters left, they still found a way to balance the show without disrespecting anyone.

I truly love the show, and even though I'm sad it's ended, I'm even more grateful it ended on a good note for all of the characters and not on a cliffhanger. I would have loved that the show got a final season as opposed to a cancelation, but the characters got closure in the end. At least I'm not in some limbo thinking about how these characters' stories should end.

Our main couples, Kit/Bell, Billie/Conrad, and Leela/Devon, all got their end game. And even though there was nothing explicitly said, you can actually picture what their future would be like, both in their personal lives and their professional lives.

Even though most of us saw this cancelation coming, it doesn't negate feelings of sadness or disappointment. Whatever the case, I'm glad that the show had a good run. With six seasons, they also got to their 100 episode mark. Not many shows nowadays can boast of that.

So cheers to The Resident ❤️

[youcantspellinfinity-withoutfinn]

Took the liberty of brighten up my favorite scene from the episode ❤️ I could stare at the last pic all freakin day

[carolinahope]

The Best of 2022 - 7 scenes (5/7)

[savvyk3008]

It was at this very moment that every single Collie shipper had a breakdown. It finally happened. And the look in their eyes of total affection sent me over the freaking edge. I love them so so much! #Collie endgame is here

[kaitidid22]

Fanfic: Family (Conrad/Billie)

Summary: Gigi feels very comfortable expressing her wants and desires, while stirring up Billie's baby feelings and a panic attack. (Canon friendly to date & set post-DevonxLeela's wedding)

A/N: She's alive! This one went sideways on me for a while, and I couldn't get it to gel. And then I realized I was trying to write three stories in one, which was a bad plan, clearly. Working on the other two next!

Family

Billie picked up her coffee and gave the barista a polite smile. As she turned to leave, she heard a tiny voice yell, “Aunt Billie!”

As always, a well of love and happiness rose in Billie’s chest at the sound of Gigi’s voice, with an extra little hiccup of pleasure at the sheer unexpectedness of getting to see her in the middle of the day. Scanning the café, Billie spotted the little girl sitting with A.J. at a table outside, double-wide stroller parked next to them, and they waved at each other. Before Billie could take more than a step or two towards their small group, Gigi had hopped out of her chair and run over to throw her arms around Billie’s middle.

Billie gazed down at the crown of Gigi’s head and noted that the French braid Billie had put in that morning was showing amazing endurance.

Nice work, Dr. Sutton, she thought smugly.

“Hi, sweetie,” Billie said out loud.

Gigi raised her head to grin up with big eyes that were starting to look exactly like Conrad’s, right down to the note of mischief always lurking behind them. Billie ran a thumb over Gigi’s soft cheek and felt a lump rise in her throat when Gigi snuggled her face closer into Billie’s palm.

Abruptly, it occurred to Billie that it was Friday, and Gigi should be in school. Billie had, in fact, dropped the six-year-old off that morning at her grammar school with Conrad on their way to work. And, yet, Gigi was in the hospital café at—Billie glanced at the clock on the wall—seven after eleven in the morning.

“Are you on recess?” Billie asked, doubtful. Wasn’t recess at ten? Ish?

Gigi shook her head. “I got sent home, and Uncle A.J. said he could watch me until Daddy’s done for the day.”

“What?” Billie asked dumbly, taken aback.

Gigi never misbehaved, and Billie felt her hackles start to rise in the little girl’s defense. If Gigi was being blamed for something another kid had done, Billie was going to—

Nothing, she told herself sternly. You’ll do nothing.

Because she was an adult, and Conrad had incredible relationships with Gigi’s teachers. Billie was never going to jeopardize that in any way. So, she would do nothing about this transgression. But she was going to resent the hell out of it. Quietly.

“Why, sweetie?” Billie asked belatedly.

“Emmett tested positive for COVID,” Gigi said. “So, we all got sent home, and we have to get tested for three days.”

Oh, Billie though to herself, slightly ashamed of her own vicious response.

It still didn’t answer the lingering question of why Conrad hadn’t called Billie. Or texted her. Or had Hundley call her. Something. Her schedule was light. She could have driven back across town to pick Gigi up, especially if A.J. was only tasked with bringing Gigi back to the hospital. Billie could have taken Gigi for part of the day. It was performance review season, and Billie was scheduled to be reading boring forms all day.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Billie said, forcing herself to focus. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah, no symptoms,” Gigi said, sounding entirely too knowledgeable on infectious diseases for a six-year-old. “A.J. took me for my test. The rapid came back negative.”

Billie bit her lip to keep the smile from crossing her face at Gigi’s serious tone. Gigi was very clear with everyone who would listen that she was going to be a nurse practitioner just like her mother. And she had an uncanny understanding of medical issues, given that she couldn’t even read a chapter book yet.

“That’s very good news,” Billie said, she slid her hand over Gigi’s shoulder and began to lead her back to the table where A.J. was still sitting. “And at least it’s Friday. So, you’re not missing much school at all.”

“Yeah, I like school,” Gigi said, a little glum.

“I know you do,” Billie said as they reached A.J. and the boys. “Good morning.”

“Billie,” A.J. greeted her.

He had taken one of the twins out of the stroller and was holding a bottle at the baby’s mouth. Billie squinted but couldn’t tell which boy it was. She thought it might be Arjun, given the scowl on the face of the baby still in his stroller seat. Elijah was the grumpy one. But she had a fifty-fifty chance of being right, so she wouldn’t even be impressed with herself if she was.

“I didn’t know you were running a daycare today.”

A.J. shrugged a shoulder. “It’s my day off, and I had the boys anyway. What’s one more?”

“That’s the spirit,” Billie said.

She took a sip of her coffee as she watched him switch the baby. His movements were deft, practiced, and she nodded in approval as he got the baby settled and buckled in without a single fuss.

“Impressive,” Billie told him.

A.J. smirked. “I know.”

Gigi began to gather up her belongings, and A.J. said, “Whoa, kid. Where ya going?”

Gigi pointed at Billie. “With Aunt Billie,” she said. Then Gigi looked up at Billie with concerned eyes. “Can’t I?”

Billie started to say of course, you can, and then she stopped. Was this something she still needed to ask Conrad about? Technically, if the school hadn’t been able to reach Conrad, they would have called Billie as Gigi’s emergency contact, and she would have taken Gigi for the day anyway.

But that wasn’t what had happened. Conrad had asked A.J. to watch Gigi for the day. And the decision of who would be watching his daughter was Gigi’s father’s to make. If he wanted Gigi with A.J., then who was Billie to come along and scoop Gigi up? And, on a more basic note, Conrad believed Gigi was with A.J. If Billie was going to take Gigi, didn’t she need to tell him first? What if he came looking for her? Did he even know A.J. was at the hospital?

Billie turned uncertain eyes to A.J., who looked surprised. “Yeah. Can’t she?” A.J. asked, keeping his voice sedate.

“I’m sure it’s fine, sweetie,” Billie said finally. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her ID card. “Why don’t you go order yourself a hot chocolate, ok?”

“Okay!” Gigi shoved the rest of her school supplies into the backpack and dashed off, blonde ponytail streaming behind her.

“Conrad is always fine letting you take Gigi. Always has been. You’re Super Auntie,” A.J. said, pointed. “Why would today be different?”

“He didn’t call me,” Billie said. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

A.J. gave her a disbelieving look. “He only called me because I had the day off, Billie. You are definitely overthinking this,” A.J. said. “Is this because you won’t move in?”

“He told you about that?” Billie asked.

“The man was terrified he had run you off,” A.J. said. “Needed someone to talk to.”

Billie was ashamed that hearing A.J. describe Conrad as terrified to lose her made her chest warm and her hands shaky. Sometimes her relationship with Conrad—as joyful as it made her—didn’t quite feel real. Like it was still three years before, and she was living in a prolonged dream that she might wake from at any second.

Billie turned slightly so she could keep one eye on Gigi at the counter. The barista was smiling at the little girl, using Billie’s ID to ring up the hot chocolate.

“I know,” Billie said again.

“Did he?” A.J. asked. “Run you off?”

Billie hesitated.

“Oh wow,” A.J. said, with what sounded like genuine concern. “He almost did.”

“No,” she said, realizing she had given him the wrong impression. “I love Conrad. I want to be with him. I don’t think there’s anything he could do to run me off. Ever. If he had made it an ultimatum—”

“Which Conrad would never do,” A.J. pointed out.

She nodded in concession. “But if he had, I would have moved in a heartbeat. But that would have forced some issues to be worked out a bit faster than I was ready to face them.” She sighed and muttered, “Apparently, I’m still not ready to face them.”

“So, if he had forced you, then you would have moved in with him? But because he respects you and your boundaries, and he’s waiting patiently, you’re avoiding the conversation. That makes no sense.”

“It’s complicated,” she said on a sigh, eyes locked on Gigi. “I almost wish he had forced it.”

“That is not the Dr. Billie Sutton I know,” A.J. said.

Which was entirely fair but slightly judgmental, and Billie gave him a quelling look. A.J. was unfazed, staring her down with disapproval.

“It would have given me an easy out. Which, you’re right, I should not want. But the thing is, in my head, if I make the decision to move in,” Billie said, “then it’s a conscious decision that Nic doesn’t factor in anymore. And I know that’s not fair, but I can’t get past it either.”

She could see from A.J.’s face that Conrad hadn’t told him this part. Or maybe Conrad had only spoken to him during the limbo weeks when Billie had been lost in her own head.

“Billie—” A.J. began.

“It’s okay,” she said, with a wan smile. “Conrad knows. And I’m working on it.”

A.J. nodded and, for once, let it go.

“I need to text him that I’m taking Gigi,” Billie muttered, pulling out her phone with more nerves than she should be feeling.

“It’s going to be fine,” A.J. said, still sounding confused about her hesitation.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed.

She quickly typed out a text, Ran into A.J. Taking Gigi to my office., and shoved the phone into her pocket again with more force than necessary. Gigi dashed up next to Billie and held the ID badge out. Billie clipped it back on her white coat and ran an absent hand down Gigi’s hair.

“I’m going to take her upstairs,” Billie said to A.J. “We’ll see you at brunch this weekend, right?”

“Family brunch!” A.J. said. “I am honored and will attend.”

Affection swirled through Billie, and she shook her head on a chuckle. “Devon and Leela land the night before. The sleep deprivation and lovey-dovey time will be real.”

“Ah to be young and in love,” A.J. said with a smirk. “No, thank you.” But then he followed it up with, “It’s all right if the boys and Padma come, right?”

“Of course,” Billie said, hiding her smirk.

“Good because I already invited them.”

Billie laughed.

“Arjun and Elijah are coming?” Gigi asked excitedly.

“Seems like it,” Billie told her. “And Sammie.”

Gigi squealed. “I like the boys,” she said when she had calmed. “Babies are great.”

“Babies are great,” Billie agreed, smiling so hard her face hurt.

God she loved this kid.

“Auntie Billie, can you have babies?” Gigi asked.

The question was a sharp left hook, sideswiping Billie and knocking the wind out of her entirely. Once Billie was able to move again, her eyes jerked to A.J., who immediately looked away. Suspicion set in, but she had to deal with Gigi’s questions first.

“That’s a really good question. Why don’t we talk about this on the way to the elevator?” Billie asked. “Say goodbye, sweetie.”

“Bye Uncle A.J. Bye Arjun! Bye Elijah!” Gigi cried as she slung her arms through the straps of her backpack.

Then she followed as Billie led the way from the café towards the elevators. Billie cleared her throat, wondering what A.J. could have said to prompt questions about Billie’s fertility in a six-year-old.

“So, let’s talk about babies,” she said, trying to sound like a professional doctor, detached and unaffected. “If someone is born female, they often have the ability to produce eggs. And we usually think that’s all it takes to have a baby.”

“Egg and sperm!” Gigi said.

Billie bit back a smile as a few people glanced at them, startled. “Indoor voice, sweetie,” Billie reminded her.

“Egg and sperm,” Gigi said, more quietly.

“Exactly,” Billie said. “But it’s much more complicated than that.”

The elevator opened, and Billie urged Gigi inside and to the far back corner, pausing to press the button for the surgical floor. They settled against the wall in the corner while other people crowded into the elevator with them.

“What else do you need?” Gigi asked, sounding like she was making a grocery list.

“Well, a woman’s uterus needs to be able to carry a fetus to term. Not every female body can.”

“Why not?”

“A lot of reasons,” Billie said with a shrug. “Sometimes the placenta isn’t able to attach to the lining. Sometimes the uterus can’t form the plug that keeps the baby inside until it’s ready to be born.”

“Do you have any of those reasons?” Gigi asked.

“Not that I know of, sweetie,” Billie said. “And, remember, I’ve had a baby before. I had Trevor.”

Gigi nodded thoughtfully. “But you’re old, right?”

Billie could feel the amusement wafting off of the other people in the elevator and wanted to glare at them all. She took a deep, silent breath.

“It’s very common for women in their forties to have children. It’s just harder to get pregnant.”

Gigi narrowed her eyes. “And you get a period?”

“I do, sweetie.”

Though she was on a miraculous birth control that only required she get a period every three months. Modern medicine was spectacular.

“And that means you still have eggs,” Gigi said.

“Not necessarily,” Billie said, wrinkling her nose in apology at Gigi.

“More complications,” Gigi said on a sigh.

“Yes, sweetie,” Billie said, hearing someone in the elevator chuckle and hide it under a cough.

Belatedly, she remembered she had never checked if Conrad had responded to her text. She pulled out the phone, and, sure enough, he had reacted to the message with a heart. The sight of it should have eased her nerves.

It didn’t. He hadn’t sent anything else.

As they left the elevator, Billie glanced down at Gigi, offering her hand. Gigi took it.

“Did that answer your questions?” Billie asked.

Gigi nodded. “Can we color?” she asked.

Billie smiled. Curiosity assuaged. Nice work, Dr. Sutton.

“Heck yeah, we can color,” Billie said.

~*~

That night, in bed, Billie found herself lying awake, wishing she had just asked Conrad about A.J. But she had told herself not to be so insecure—Conrad had been very clear with her that he was in love with her, had taken every opportunity to remind her that she was it for him. It didn’t feel fair to constantly make him reassure her, just because he had done the whole life partners thing before and she hadn’t.

She rolled over while Conrad was sleeping and watched his chest rise and fall. He looked so peaceful asleep, younger and lighter. And the memory of A.J. telling her Conrad had been terrified no longer made her chest warm. It made her throat clench and eyes burn.

She scooted over closer to him, so that she could rest her head in the soft place where his chest met his shoulder. The divot seemed to fit her cheek perfectly.

Conrad stirred, his head turning so he could blink open bleary eyes and look at her. Then he smiled sleepily and rolled to curl around her. His prickly cheek brushed against hers as he wrapped her in the approximation of a bear hug.

“I love you,” he mumbled.

Billie wondered if he was even awake. “I love you, too.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

He hummed in her ear, then pulled back to look at her again. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you can’t believe I’m real.”

“Oh, that look,” Billie said, dry. “I wasn’t aware you knew that look.”

“It’s a great look. I mean, I am amazing,” Conrad said. “It’s perfectly understandable.” He sounded more awake now, and his smile died. “Are you okay?”

“Why did you have A.J. pick up Gigi today?”

His brow crinkled. “They got sent home because of a COVID scare. She didn’t tell you? Sorry, I assumed she explained. She loves talking about medical stuff.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Billie asked, ignoring the rest.

“Because you had to work, and A.J. didn’t.” His eyes studied her face. “Has this been bothering you?”

Yes. So much. But she didn’t say the words out loud.

“We’re okay, right?” she asked.

“We’re more than okay.” He cradled her face in his hand, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Why would you think we’re not?”

“Because I’m scared.”

That this is a dream.

That I’m going to lose you.

That I only half have you.

That I’m going to ruin this.

He nodded, like that made sense, even though she knew she had explained nothing. “I called A.J. because he was free, and he likes having Gigi around. That’s all. I was really happy when you texted, and I knew you two were together. You’re always my first choice, Billie.”

She squeezed her eyes shut hard. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered back. “I love you.”

And, this time, instead of answering, she kissed him.

~*~

The next morning, Conrad was up early, rousing Gigi and Billie was just enough time for them to head to the hospital for another set of COVID tests. When Billie and Gigi returned, Billie joined him in the kitchen, and Conrad had the oven, broiler, and three burners going.

“We could just take everyone out,” Billie said, stealing a piece of bacon.

“Sacrilege,” Conrad told her, leaning over to sneak a kiss despite her mouth being full.

“Gross,” she said on a laugh.

“You,” he said, punctuating the word with a kiss to her nose, “are never gross.”

“Not me,” Billie said pointedly. “You. Who kisses someone with a mouth full of food?”

Conrad closed in again, and she squealed, laughing. “No! Go away!”

Kit and Bell arrived first, with Jake, Gregg, and Sammie in the car behind them. Gigi thundered to the front door as soon as she spotted them through the windows.

“My rapid was negative again!” Gigi said, instead of greeting them.

“That’s great,” Bell said.

“So was her full PCR from yesterday,” Billie said. “I took her for a second one this morning to be sure.”

“And we’ll take her again tomorrow,” Conrad called from the kitchen.

Sammie and Gigi ran upstairs while Bell, Jake, and Gregg wandered into the kitchen to meet Conrad, who was still stationed at the stove. Kit and Billie were left behind in the foyer without so much as a glance. The men all peered in the various pans and dishes Conrad had out, clearly discussing food strategy.

“How did we get so lucky?” Kit asked, tilting her head to the side as she gazed at her husband.

“Well, you are a badass boss lady with a gigantic heart,” Billie said.

“Pot meet kettle,” Kit said to her and laughed.

Billie chuckled in response, liking that Kit saw her that way. “You want some coffee?”

“I would kill for coffee,” Kit said. “Murder. Mayhem. Cause a riot.”

Billie nodded calmly. “Good thing Conrad already started a pot.”

“When are you moving that wonderful espresso machine in here?” Kit asked. “I dream of that thing, but Randolph is so attached to his ancient one, I can’t bear to make him get rid of it.” She paused and added, “To be honest, he might divorce me if I tried.”

The question was innocent enough, almost absent really, like Kit was just making conversation. But Billie felt her stomach twist at the second reminder in twenty-four hours. She knew the exact spot she would put that espresso machine, and she would send Conrad’s trusty Mr. Coffee straight to the garbage dump.

Or could you recycle coffee machines? They were glass and metal and plastic, right? All of that was recyclable, wasn’t it?

“That’s… a touchy subject,” Billie told Kit.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kit said, surprised. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

But Billie just smiled and shook her head, picking up speed to the kitchen. “It’s fine. Cream? Sugar? How do I not know how you take your coffee?”

“Black like her soul,” Bell said, with a grin.

Kit gave him a salty look. “Two lumps and a generous topper of plant-based creamer. Any one you have. And milk is fine if not. Thank you, Billie.”

As soon as she had grabbed a cup for Kit, and made sure Gregg had an extra-large cup of his own, the doorbell rang. Billie smiled at everyone. “Let me just get that.”

But she was beaten to the punch by Sammie and Gigi, who came careening down the stairs yelling, “The babies are here! The babies are here!”

“Aren’t they a little young for baby fever?” Bell asked as the adults watched them open the door and swarm Padma and A.J.

“Peaks and valleys through life,” Kit told him. “They like them now, and then they won’t, and then they will again. And then they might not. But then they do for sure, and it just doesn’t go away. That’s when you know you’re old.”

“Ah,” Bell said.

“Good morning, family,” A.J. boomed, the boys each cradled in one arm.

“Perfect timing,” Conrad said. “We’re just about ready to sit down.”

“Wait,” Padma said, looking around the room. “Did we beat Leela here?”

“She texted that she and Devon are running a bit behind,” Billie said. “They wanted us to start without them.”

Padma smacked A.J. on the back lightly. “You are allowed to bully me into leaving early any time.”

“We left exactly on time, Padma,” A.J. said, firm.

“I am going to lord this over her for years,” Padma said.

“We set up a blanket for the boys outside next to the table,” Billie said. “Let me help you get everything down the stairs.”

“Oh, we’ve got it,” Padma said, breezing through the back door and down the wooden steps to the garden.

A.J. stared after her, a resigned expression on his face. Then he glanced down at the boys in his arms.

“Why don’t you let me take one of those?” Bell asked.

“Thank you, Bell,” A.J. said, snuggling the baby in his left arm close to him as Bell slipped the other from his grip.

“And we can take these platters down,” Kit said, picking up two of the serving dishes.

“Happy to,” Jake said and nodded to Gregg.

They each grabbed a dish and followed Kit outside, with Bell and A.J. close behind with the babies. Sammie and Gigi dashed after everyone else, and Billie and Conrad found themselves alone in the kitchen.

“That was surprisingly efficient,” Conrad said.

“I’ll get the plates, if you get the silverware?” Billie asked. “They arrived together,” Conrad murmured in the higher pitched voice he used when he was being silly.

“Right? I’m not crazy,” she murmured back to him, as she gathered the plates out of the cabinet.

“So,” Billie had said, nonchalantly one night after Gigi had gone to bed.

She and Conrad had each been stationed at one end of the couch reading the latest issues of their favorite medical journals, highlighters and pens discarded next to them, legs intwined in the middle.

“Padma and A.J.,” she had said, glancing at him from under her lashes.

Conrad had lowered his reading to look at her, a guarded edge to his gaze. “What about them?”

“I mean… they could be cute, right?”

His eyes had studied her for a long moment, and then he had chuckled. “You know, don’t you?” he had asked.

“You know!” she had said.

They had both straightened on the couch, throwing their respective journals to the carpet.

“I can’t believe you know,” he had said, still laughing.

“Of course, I know,” she had said. “Did A.J. tell you?”

“Devon,” Conrad had said.

Billie had gasped. “I can’t believe he outed his sister-in-law’s friends with benefits situation with our colleague.”

“To be fair, he didn’t tell me until after they stopped sleeping together,” Conrad had said.

She had made a face of mild distaste. “I really can’t believe that he told you.”

“Yeah, never trust Devon with a secret. He will always tell me. Whether I want to know or not.”

“What is it with you two?” she had asked, poking him in the thigh with her toes.

“I’m sorry, Billie,” Conrad had said. “Our relationship predates you. You’ll always have to share me.”

Ignoring that comment, she had nudged him with her foot again. “How long have you known?”

“I don’t know,” Conrad had said, catching her foot in his hands and squeezing lightly, teasingly. “They called it off, what, two years ago?”

“And you never said anything to me?” she had asked, pretending outrage. “I cannot call you my best friend.”

“It was none of my business!” Conrad had said on a laugh. “Besides, you didn’t say anything to me either.”

“Like you would have cared,” she had said, dryly. Then she had remembered the look on A.J.’s face when he had told her about the arrangement with Padma ending. “I think he actually liked her. But he didn’t really know what to do about it.”

“Yeah,” Conrad had drawled. “I think you’re reading into it. He hasn’t been interested in anyone since Mina.”

Billie had wrinkled her nose. “That was years ago. You think he’s still pining?” Before Conrad had been able to respond, she had said, “No. I think he likes Padma, but she’s completely different from anyone he ever pictured for himself, so he’s avoiding.”

Conrad had shrugged, still rubbing her feet absently. “You could be right. I mean, no one would have guessed that we would end up together, Miss Button-Every-Button.”

“Yeah, okay,” she had said. “Mr. I-Rappel-Down-Buildings-And-Climb-Into-Exploding-Buses-To-Save-Patients.”

“That’s a terrible nickname,” he had pointed out. “Does not roll off the tongue.”

“Words are not my forte,” Billie had admitted.

“And you have to admit you love all that about me. It’s kinda hot.”

She had rolled her eyes. “But what do you think? It’s the way they look at each other, right?”

“I don’t know. A.J. is a careful dude,” Conrad had said, almost warningly. “And he risks losing a lot if things go south with Padma.”

“We had a lot to lose,” Billie had pointed out.

Conrad had smiled down at his hands on her feet. “True.” Then he had squeezed her toes again and met her eyes with a serious expression. “But I almost screwed this up. A couple of times. And A.J. watched that happen up close and personal. So… I don’t think he’s going to take a chance on love with the mother of his children.”

Billie had sighed a little at the sad look on Conrad’s face. Then she had pulled her feet out of his hands so that she could crawl across the couch to straddle his lap. His arms had come around her, and his head had tilted back to look up at her as her fingers had lightly scratched the back of his head.

“You didn’t screw this up,” she had whispered.

“Almost,” he had muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

“But you didn’t,” she had said. “Neither did I, despite my best efforts.”

He had swallowed audibly. “No. It wasn’t you.”

“You have to let that go, baby,” she had whispered. “We’re here, together. And I love you.”

But it had become an old refrain by then, and Billie had known he wouldn’t listen if she tried to argue him out of believing he had hurt her unnecessarily. So, she had pressed a kiss to his forehead and gotten back to the topic at hand.

“A.J. can’t avoid love forever. You don’t have control over that. You’re in it or you’re not. And Padma is amazing with the boys.”

“Does it make me a bad person that I’m really looking forward to giving him a hard time about this?” Conrad had asked, squinting sightlessly somewhere in the vicinity of her neck. “If it happens, that is. Which I still don’t fully believe it is.”

“Not at all,” Billie had said. “I am going to tease him daily. I might start popping in on his surgeries just so he can’t escape me.”

“Vengeful,” Conrad had murmured with some surprise.

“Do you know how hard he pushed me to tell you how I felt, even when you were with Cade? It was nonstop. I swear.”

Conrad had scoffed. “I probably do. Because I’m pretty sure he was giving us the exact same advice. Probably the same lofty speeches even.”

Billie had sat back slightly, and Conrad’s hands had trailed down to her hips. “Wait. So… if we had just listened to him and told each other, then…”

Conrad’s eyes had locked on hers. They had both sworn under their breath.

Gigi insisted that she and Sammie should take the heads of the table Conrad had set up in the backyard, and, so, Conrad and Billie seated themselves across from each other on either side of Gigi. They had just started dishing up food when the backdoor slid open and Devon and Leela appeared.

“Welcome back to beautiful Georgia,” Conrad called to them.

“Trinidad was gorgeous,” Leela said, with a broad, dreamy grin on her face.

“Sorry we’re late,” Devon said, as he and Leela slipped into the empty chairs at the table.

“They don’t care,” Leela said, smile dying. “It was, like, ten minutes. And I texted Billie.”

Billie frowned at the harsh words, but Devon didn’t seem bothered.

“We’re newlyweds,” he said, as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did, but Billie really didn’t want to know. Leela groaned and shot Billie an exasperated look.

“He loves saying that word. It started on the honeymoon and just hasn’t stopped.” Leela turned to Devon with a glare. “Why won’t it stop?”

He smiled at her, unbothered and completely besotted. Across the table from Billie, Conrad smiled at her. A small, secret smile that had her body threatening to melt into the chair.

“What’s a honeymoon?” Gigi asked.

“The single greatest vacation of your life,” Devon said.

Conrad shot him a warning look, and then turned back to his daughter. “It’s a vacation you take after you get married.”

“To celebrate?” Gigi asked.

“Exactly,” Conrad said. “And because it’s your honeymoon, people give you extra stuff. Like champagne or bigger hotel rooms.”

“Chocolates,” Kit said. “Cheesecake. Dinner. A hotel once gave me a whole pig. That was my second marriage.” Then she paused to consider. “I think. Was it third?”

“I love you so much more for the fact that yours are all food related,” Bell said.

“A girl’s got to eat,” Kit said defensively.

“Massages,” Leela added. “Roses.”

“Where did you and Mommy go on your moon trip?” Gigi asked.

Billie hid a smile behind her water glass, eyes laughing at Gigi’s word choice as they met Conrad’s. He was gazing at Billie when he answered the question.

“We went to Key West, Bubble. Beautiful beaches. Lots of seafood.”

“And margaritas,” Billie added, with a teasing smile.

A reluctant, slightly embarrassed smile twisted at Conrad’s mouth. He shook his head, as if only just realizing that Nic had spilled on their honeymoon shenanigans. Billie wasn’t quite sure why that would be surprising. Of course, Nic had spilled to Billie. Nic had told Billie almost everything.

“What free things did you get?” Gigi asked.

“I’m sorry, Bubble. I don’t remember,” Conrad said, shaking his head. “It was seven years ago. A lot has happened since then.”

“I think Nic mentioned a bottle of champagne,” Billie said, shrugging one shoulder.

Conrad looked off into the distance. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “The first night. When we got to the hotel, they had covered the bed in rose petals and had a bottle of champagne chilling for us.”

“Wow,” Gigi squealed.

Billie studied the bittersweet edge to Conrad’s smile. Then his eyes met hers, and his face softened—only slightly, though, before all expression disappeared. And, suddenly, she couldn’t read anything there, like he had blockaded her out. Her heart rate increased as her skin went cold.

“We’ve really been missing out on this whole honeymoon thing, A.J.,” Padma said.

A.J.’s head jerked around to her, but she’d spoken thoughtlessly, more interested in Arjun in her arms than the adults at the table. Billie flicked her eyes back to Conrad, who had clearly clocked the same exchange.

A.J. totally has a crush.

His eyebrow quirked at her—message received—and she dropped her eyes to her plate, worried she would start to giggle. Billie relaxed, at ease now that she felt she could read Conrad’s mind again.

“When you and Billie get married, where would you go on your moon trip? And would I go? It sounds fun.”

Of course, you would. Billie shoved the thought away to examine later and swallowing the spurt of panic at her own easy reaction.

Her eyes flew back to Conrad and found him staring at his daughter, lips parted, but no words escaped. The side conversations had ceased at the table. Even baby Elijah had stopped fussing in his father’s arms.

When another few moments of silent staring from her father passed, Gigi’s face began to crumple in confusion. Billie decided it was time to step in and ran a hand over the little girl’s soft hair.

“Not everybody gets married,” Billie reminded her. “Remember, we talked about this?”

“I remember,” Gigi said.

Her big brown eyes shot sideways to her father, who finally regained movement, leaning back in his chair. Billie wanted to check in, put a hand on his chest and feel his heart beating, strong and sure. But he was on the other side of the table, too far for that to be an option. The distance across the table suddenly felt like a lightyear, and Billie found herself utterly disconnected from his shuttered expression again.

“But?” Billie asked to prompt Gigi.

“But what about babies?” Gigi asked.

Billie heard someone choke. “Babies?” Billie asked. “What do you mean, sweetie?”

“You said you can have babies,” Gigi said.

Billie’s mind raced. She hadn’t mentioned the conversation to Conrad. Gigi had always brimmed with questions about medicine. The curiosity about Billie specifically had just been because Billie happened to be female and still of child-bearing age. Billie had told herself it had been just one more set of questions about bodies, and she had assuaged Gigi’s curiosity, so why mention it?

But the truth was that Billie was a big chicken. She hadn’t wanted the innocent curiosity of a six-year-old to raise the topic between her and Conrad.

Part of her was convinced it was a moot point. Conrad would never consider having another child. He had done that. He had Gigi. He was content. And that would be okay, whenever Billie got around to broaching the subject. She didn’t want a baby more than she wanted to be with Conrad, or more than she loved Gigi. They would have the conversation, she would know for sure babies weren’t in her future, and everything would be fine. A bit sad, but fine.

This—at brunch with their friends and colleagues and his daughter interrogating them—was not how Billie wanted to have the discussion. But she also never wanted to make Gigi feel like a topic was taboo or inject the idiotic concept of “polite company” into Gigi’s mind. So, Billie swallowed her discomfort.

“Well, sweetie, remember I said that was in theory. I should be able to. But I don’t know if—”

“I want a baby,” Gigi said. She pointed at Arjun and Elijah.

Billie took a deep breath in through her nose, but Conrad was still silent on the other side of the table, stunned. Billie was on her own.

“They’re so cute and sweet, right?” Billie asked. “I’m sure if you wanted, Auntie Padma and Uncle A.J. would let you spend more time with them.”

“That would be fine, Gigi,” Padma said gently. “All the time you want.”

And for all Billie thought Padma was a little off-kilter and a lot selfish, she was grateful that Padma was the most tolerant and accepting person Billie had ever met. Maybe even more so than Nic. Padma had an uncanny ability to roll with other people’s foibles, even when she lambasted herself for her own.

“I’d like that,” Gigi said.

Everyone at the table relaxed.

“But I still think you and Daddy should get married and have a baby.”

“A lot to unpack there, Bubble,” Conrad said, finally recovered and rejoining the conversation.

Billie was happy to let him take over for a while. Picking up her juice glass, she chugged some of the orange-mango juice.

“This is the greatest brunch of my life,” Leela said to Devon.

He shushed her.

“You can hear just fine,” Leela hissed at him.

“Not with you talking,” he said in an undertone.

“Yeah,” Jake said in a drawl. “We can all hear you two, though.”

“They don’t care,” Devon said. “I’ve been telling Conrad to marry Billie for two years.”

“I’ve been telling Billie to marry Conrad for a similar span of time,” A.J. said in a booming, jovial voice. “What an amusing coincidence.”

Devon grinned at him. Leela rolled her eyes.

“If only they had taken our prestigious advice.”

At that, Billie found herself compelled to address A.J. “Prestigious?”

“He went to Harvard. And I am me. Prestigious we are.”

“Okay, Yoda,” Conrad said. “Bubble, you know a couple doesn’t have to be married to have a baby, right?”

“Padma and A.J. aren’t married,” Gigi said dutifully. “And they have two.”

“Exactly,” Billie said. “So, when you say you want us to get married and have a baby, which do you really want?”

“Both,” Gigi said simply.

A thought suddenly occurred to Billie, and she put a gentle hand on Gigi’s. “Sweetie, is this you angling to be a flower girl again? You’ve done it twice in a year. That’s a lot.”

She didn’t miss spotting out of the corner of her eye that Conrad’s shoulders eased at the cute explanation. Hurt stabbed at her, and she reminded herself sternly that the reaction wasn’t fair. They weren’t even in private, and the topic had been thrust upon him with no warning—

It was thrust upon you, too, a nasty voice pointed out. And you’re not relieved it’s just Gigi wanting a pretty dress.

Of course, I’m relieved. We don’t even live together, Billie told the voice. Pipe down.

And whose fault is that? the voice asked.

“That’s not why,” Gigi said. “I just want you to get married.”

“She’s always wanted you to get married,” Sammie said. All the adults turned to look at her. “Well, not always,” she amended. “But since last year, at least. Maybe the year before. I wasn’t there for that wish.”

“Wish?” Billie asked, turning back to Gigi.

Gigi was staring hard at the table.

“What does she mean your wish, Bubble?” Conrad asked.

“Her birthday wish,” Billie said.

Gigi’s face jerked up to look at them, suddenly crestfallen. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone your wish. Then it won’t come true!”

“It doesn’t count if someone guesses,” Padma said, calm and tranquil.

Gigi looked immensely relieved. “That’s good.”

Meanwhile, Billie’s mind raced, trying to piece it all together. At least two years, she realized. It’s been her wish for at least two years.

Because Gigi had refused to tell Billie her wish at her fourth birthday. That was the first time in her whole life that Gigi wouldn’t tell Billie the wish she had made. Until she had turned four, Gigi had even whispered her wishes in Billie’s ear right after making them, as if Billie needed to keep them safe for her.

Gigi wants you to get marry Conrad, her brain helpfully reminded her.

And Billie knew how Gigi knew about marriage, obviously, even at four years old. But Gigi had never once mentioned her father remarrying. Neither before nor during Cade, who remained his longest relationship to date—except the one conversation with Sammie, but Sammie had asked if Conrad would marry again, not Gigi. And Gigi had just rolled her eyes at the idea of Cade, unconcerned, and then asked Billie if the girls could help pick out her dress.

Oh, Billie thought. Then, No.

Gigi couldn’t have meant Billie marrying Conrad. But Billie could remember Gigi’s small voice saying it wasn’t like her Mommy with Cade, and had she meant for herself? That Cade wasn’t like a Mommy? Or had she meant with Conrad? That Conrad didn’t care about Cade like he had cared about Nic?

He wasn’t in love with Cade, her brain pointed out.

And little kids were very intuitive, Billie had learned through her time with Gigi. Gigi always knew when either Conrad or Billie were sad. Gigi had that same level of extreme empathy that both Nic and Conrad had always possessed. So, Billie supposed it would make sense if Gigi had simply been reacting to the love she could sense in Conrad for Billie, long before he sensed it himself.

Love equals marriage, Billie realized, wondering how long it had taken her to get to the crux of it.

“People who are in love don’t have to get married,” Conrad was saying to Gigi, having reached the same conclusion at the same time. “It doesn’t mean they love each other any less.”

Billie cleared a suddenly achy throat and forced herself to deal. “Sweetie, what would we have if we get married that we don’t have now?”

“We’re already a family,” Conrad said.

“And we love you. So much,” Billie said.

“I know,” Gigi said.

But she wouldn’t say anything else, and Billie couldn’t tell her yes, of course I’ll marry your father because she really hadn’t even thought about marriage. It was marriage. It was huge. It was something she had never wanted.

Amazing that she could easily picture sitting on the porch swing, old and gray, with Conrad’s arm around her. But she couldn’t picture a ring on her finger. Or maybe she just couldn’t picture one on Conrad’s again, even though he had stopped wearing it years before.

Besides, Conrad was already married. And maybe that shouldn’t be a factor in the decision, but it was. It was.

Billie could hardly get past his desire to move her in, let alone anything beyond that. She still owed him an answer almost five months after their first conversation. And he had been patient. So patient that sometimes she would think he had forgotten all about it, but then he would work it into conversation again.

“Why don’t we spend the night at your place?” Conrad had suggested as they slid into the car, ready to head to the grammar school to pick up Gigi after their Friday shifts.

Billie had given him a look. Ever since Trevor’s visit had necessitated a sleepover at Billie’s, Conrad had been working the offer in at least once every couple of weeks.

“I never promised not to try and convince you,” he had said, with a cheeky grin as he put an arm around the back of her seat and leaned in.

And his cheekiness, paired with an adorable determination to win her over to the idea of cohabitation, had made her grab the front of his shirt and pull him into her body.

“Is that a yes?” he had asked, holding his mouth back from her.

“Fine,” she had said. “Yes, let’s drag poor Gigi to my boring house with no furniture.”

“Gigi likes tumbling around your empty den,” Conrad had said against her lips. “And I find it very encouraging that you haven’t bought any yet.”

And the words had stuck in her mind as a strange thing to say, though they had been shoved to the back so that she could fully focus on the feeling of his tongue sweeping into her mouth.

But the words replayed in Billie’s mind as she watched the disappointment on Gigi’s face and felt an echo inside herself. What could he have meant? She didn’t have furniture because she was busy. She spent most of her time at the hospital, and she tried to spend the rest with Conrad and Gigi—wherever they might want to be. She had been telling herself for five months that it was the only reason.

But the pang in her chest at Conrad’s stunned, panicked reaction, and her knee-jerk assumption—fear based, she knew—that the door was completely shut for him on babies, was making Billie rethink that.

She definitely needed to talk to Conrad before she answered anymore of Gigi’s questions.

“Sweetie,” she said to Gigi. “Can we talk about this some more tonight? We’re definitely going to talk about it, as much as you want, but we only have a couple of hours with everybody. Do you want to spend your time with Sammie and the boys talking about this?”

Gigi looked reluctant, but her eyes flew to Sammie, who waved at Gigi from down the table. And Gigi nodded. Billie ran a hand over her soft blonde hair again, desperate to feel connected to the little person who owned Billie’s entire heart. Gigi didn’t pull away, and the tight knot inside Billie’s stomach loosened.

“So, I’m thinking we’re long overdue for one of our spa trips,” Kid said in a cheerful tone.

“Please go,” Bell said to the table at large. “If you don’t, she makes me.”

“Relaxation and self-care are the best medicine,” Kit said.

“So I’ve heard,” Bell said. “And been told. Many times.”

The rest of brunch was a blur for Billie. She knew they discussed the spa trip. She was relieved that Gigi had started to come back out of her shell after some talk of mud baths. The idea of getting muddy on purpose was just too intriguing, Billie supposed. And she knew that everyone stayed long past when they had planned to leave. But the details were foggy at best in Billie’s brain as everyone piled out the front door.

And when Conrad and Billie started cleaning up the kitchen, Gigi climbed onto the sofa, quiet as a mouse. Conrad was silent, too, as he loaded dishes in the dishwasher. But Billie wouldn’t let herself think about that.

One sad Hawkins at a time, Billie reminded herself.

And then a sad Billie. Because she was definitely in need of some alone time to think and process after all of that.

“That’s a lot to unpack,” Conrad had said.

Too true, my love, Billie thought at him silently, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her.

But, first, Gigi. Nothing in the world was as soul-crushing as a sad Gigi.

“Sweetie, you want to put on some music?” Billie asked, pulling out her phone.

Gigi nodded, taking the phone without a word. She opened Spotify, knowing the apps by their thumbnails, but then she stalled.

“Want me to help you find some Miley?” Billie asked.

When Gigi nodded again, Billie clicked into recent plays and opened a new radio channel using “Party in the U.S.A.” (Because of course Gigi only enjoyed teenager Miley.) And then Gigi set Billie’s phone on the side table and hugged a pillow to her chest.

“I love you, sweetie,” Billie whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of Gigi’s head.

“Breaking out the big guns with the Miley,” Conrad murmured as Billie came to hover a few feet away from him.

They were the first words he had spoken since their guests had left. Billie wasn’t sure what to say to him.

“It’s her favorite,” she said. “This week anyway.”

“And you hate old school Miley Cyrus,” Conrad pointed out. “I believe your exact words were ‘It’s like she’s throwing up in my ears.’”

“I said that about Hannah Montana.”

“What’s the difference?” Conrad asked, confused. Then he held up a soapy hand. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I think I’m happier not knowing.”

“Likely,” Billie said. Silence crept back between them, and Billie couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Without waiting for his response, Billie glanced at Gigi, who was pretending not to pay any attention, and made her way up the stairs. The sound of Miley blared from the surround sound speakers, drowning out her steps on the stairs. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that Conrad followed her, but somehow when she pushed the door open and walked into the bedroom, she assumed she was alone until he spoke behind her.

“Can we talk about this?” Conrad asked, pushing the door shut, quietly enough Gigi wouldn’t hear over the music.

She opened her mouth, intending to tell him that yes, of course, and it was up to him. She hadn’t realized that other, different words were bubbling up inside her until they began to spill out.

“I haven’t bought furniture because it doesn’t make sense to,” Billie said, as if continuing a conversation that they had already been having. “You already have a house full of furniture, and we’re going to move in together.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’ve been so calm about you going dark on it for five months. If it wasn’t a done deal, you’d at least have a desk by now.”

“I just need to get out of my own way,” Billie muttered.

“You’re taking your time on a huge decision,” Conrad said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m the one leaping in with both feet.”

“I love that about you,” she said in a chiding tone.

“I know,” he said, with a semblance of his usual cheeky grin. Then it faded away. “Billie, you’re it. We’re it. There’s no rush on anything other than me wanting it all to happen as fast as possible.”

Then why doesn’t he want to marry you? the nasty voice said, rearing its ugly head again.

Because that would be batshit crazy, she told the voice. We’ve been dating for seven months. Shut the hell up.

Conrad’s voice was thick. “What are you thinking about?”

“I never wanted to get married,” she said.

Conrad winced and dropped his gaze to the floor. She couldn’t tell if the wince was because he dreaded discussing this, or if her phrasing had been harsh.

In case it was the latter, she corrected herself. “I mean, I never actively wanted it. Even when we were little, we planned Nic’s wedding a thousand times, and she married my stuffed panda, Jorge, about seven hundred. He was huge. He made a great groom. But I never wanted to plan mine.”

“Who did she marry the other three hundred times?” Conrad asked, crinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

“She had this elephant,” Billie said. “I can’t remember his name.”

“Too bad.”

She licked her lips. “Similarly, I never wanted kids. The experience with Trevor probably had a lot to do with that,” she admitted. “But then I met Trevor. And I got to have Gigi in my life. And, suddenly, that wasn’t such a firm stance.”

His hands found his hips as his eyes locked on her face with an intensity that should have been daunting. But it wasn’t.

“I’ve been hesitating because I don’t want us to live in my house,” she said. “I want us here, but I can’t seem to get past thinking of this as Nic’s home. Even though it feels like my home, too.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“Being with you has made me… not as opposed to marriage,” she said. “Not that I was opposed before. I just never really saw the need.”

Conrad’s lips quirked, and his eyes danced at her. She thought she saw a bit of giddy relief in his face. “I get that,” he said.

“No, you don’t,” Billie said on a relieved laugh of her own. “You planned two weddings. You always wanted to be married.”

“That,” he said with wide eyes, “is not true. Katherine… well, that was… I’m going to stop talking. Please finish.”

“Good call,” Billie murmured.

But he knew she was only joking and would let him talk through the debacle with Katherine whenever he wanted. And he had, both when they were still just friends and after they were together. Billie and Conrad were very much on the same page about their pasts. So, he sidled a few steps closer.

“I know that you married Nic believing she was end game. That there would never be anyone else,” Billie said, softly cradling his gaze with hers.

His eyebrows came together. She heard him swallow.

“And I just want you to know that it’s not some sort of expectation with us. I want you, and I want Gigi. That’s my whole world.”

His face melted a little, and he opened his arms wide for her. It only took her two steps to cross the distance between them. He put a hand on the back of her head and pulled her as close as he could get her and still be two bodies.

“I have absolutely no idea what I did to deserve you,” Conrad said. She opened her mouth to argue, and he cut her off, saying, “It’s my turn.”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Let’s sit,” he said, letting go of her, but entwining their fingers together.

They settled at the foot of the bed, inches apart.

“I mentioned kids once,” he said. “And you told me to put a pin in it because it was a long way off, if ever.”

As he said it, a vague memory surfaced. She had been so caught up in the piece about the house that the mention of “more kids” had barely registered at the time. She couldn’t even remember what she had said back.

“Oh right,” she said, squinting into a middle distance. “Huh.”

Conrad’s smile was fleeting. “I love you,” he muttered. “You’re right that I thought Nic was it, forever, the last woman I would ever love. But she wasn’t.” He shrugged, a sad but affectionate twist to his lips. “I fell in love with you. And every piece of me loves you, even the part that loves Nic. I know that sometimes makes you uncomfortable, and I get that. I’m so sorry. Maybe if Nic hadn’t loved you as much as she did, I would find it uncomfortable, too. But it would still be true.”

God she loved this man. It hurt how much she loved him.

“I would happily marry you,” he said simply. “But I couldn’t even get you to agree to alternating weekends at your house, so I figured I’d put a pin in that discussion, too.”

Billie stared at him in shock. “You want to marry me?”

“Billie,” he said in that gravelly voice that did things to her insides. “I am making up for lost time here. We’ve talked about that.”

They had. They had talked about the intensity of his feelings once he had let the floodgates burst open—he had needed to talk about how overwhelming it felt and, in turn, make sure he wasn’t overwhelming her. He hadn’t been, but she had appreciated the check in.

And he had gotten very lucky that night.

Billie knew Conrad considered them forever. She knew that like her heart knew how to beat. They said it to each other all the time.

But… marriage? She had been so convinced he would never even consider it. And, yet, they were talking about it a mere seven months into their relationship. Somehow a baby was way less daunting, and that was a whole human life.

Conrad’s voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “See, that look of dread and panic on your face? That’s why I didn’t want to have this conversation yet.”

She couldn’t help but burst into laughter at that. He laughed along with her, though his had an edge of nerves to it that made her shore up her own spine.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said, then acquiesced and added, “I love you.”

“No. I love you,” she said into his shirt. “I love you like… big, epic love.”

“It’s disconcerting, right?” he said, unfazed.

“Very.”

“You get used to feeling a little dizzy and shaky every now and then,” he assured her.

She hummed and breathed in the scent of him—pine, musk, and home.

“Now, about those babies,” he said. “How many are on the table?”

A floaty feeling of weightlessness swirled around in her chest. “Why do you think any are on the table?” she asked, striving for a teasing tone.

“Because I’m sensing a lot less hesitation about the babies, and I could definitely do all of this out of order. That would be totally fine with me.”

“You really want this?” she asked, not quite letting herself believe it.

“Are you kidding? We’re so great at being parents.”

“We?” she asked on a scoff.

“Yes,” he said. “We. You and me. We’re Gigi’s parents, Billie.”

Between the two Hawkins, they were going to kill Billie. Like each of them was inflating little balloons of hope and love and wonder inside of her that might burst her open. And they were going to talk about that another time because she didn’t want to cry right then, not when he wasn’t finished talking.

He rested his cheek on her hair. “I really, really want this with you. As fast as possible. But as slow as you need to go.”

She nodded, thoughtful and introspective.

“You still with me?” Conrad asked.

“I want that,” she said simply.

Conrad stiffened, and she swore he stopped breathing. Then he said, “We could start trying today. Do you want to start trying today?”

“We’d need the addition,” Billie said instead of responding. “I don’t want Gigi sharing a room with a baby.”

“Two hundred thousand. Give or take. And they always take,” Conrad said ruefully.

She raised her head to blink at him. “What? To build it?”

“I had a contractor come out after you mentioned it. I wanted us to have all of our options.”

“That’s fine,” she said faintly. “I’m rich, remember?”

He laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear, thumb brushing across her cheekbone, calm and sure.

Billie stared as it started to sink in just how seriously he had been taking all of this, quietly in the background by himself. Conrad had a game plan, and that game plan involved babies. Plural. And he wanted to marry her, which she really wasn’t very sure about. The fact that he wanted it this badly, though, and was still more than willing to wait for her to catch up with him was so heartwarming and wonderful. It was…

So damn hot, she thought to herself.

Joy set off inside her like fireworks in her chest. She was going to get a baby, and Gigi would get a little sibling. And Conrad loved them both, and they were going to change the house and fill it with kids and make it theirs. And Nic would still be there, with them, but they would make it Billie’s, too. Everything was good in the world.

Conrad looked amused. “Are you thinking about taking my clothes off? You’ve got that look.”

“Do you think if we’re really quiet then we could—” She let her eyes slide to the bathroom door.

“Make love in the shower?” he asked. “Definitely. Let me just go start a movie for Gigi.”

“Lilo and Stitch,” Billie said, standing to pull off her shirt.

“And I will hurry,” Conrad said, stalling out as he eyed her lace bra.

“Conrad?” she asked, amused.

“Yes, right. Hurrying.”

~*~

“We need to talk to Gigi tonight,” Billie told him as they were toweling off.

Or, rather, she was toweling off. Conrad was dragging slow, sensual kisses over her neck and shoulders.

“You’re very distracting,” she said, as his hands got in the way of wrapping the towel around her body.

“Good,” he mumbled against her skin. Then he sighed. “I know. I don’t know how to explain all of this to her.”

“Me either.” She took a deep breath and said, “So, let’s start with facts.”

“Which ones?” he asked curiously.

“Fact, nothing is happening right now.”

Conrad followed closely behind her as she walked into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel. “But soon,” he said, pointedly.

“Fact, we don’t know if I can have a baby. So, first step is getting fertility testing done.”

“I bet I can get one in there,” he said, hand sliding to her belly. “With enough practice. Lots of practice.”

“Hilarious,” Billie said dryly.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But you know the chances of conceiving after forty only decrease. They don’t disappear entirely. It’ll probably just take longer. Which implies that we should start right away.”

“Didn’t we just do that?” she asked, pointing back at the shower.

“Yes,” he said, smug. “Yes, we did.”

You could be pregnant right now, the nasty voice was back.

That’s not how it works, Billie snarled back at it. I’m still on the depo.

But the voice had gotten under her skin. Her temperature dropped as her brain began to whir through all the stages of fertilization and implantation, all of which could legitimately be happening in her uterus.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “We’re going to try to have a baby.”

“Yes,” he said, bemused. “I thought we agreed. Did we not agree? Are we still talking about it? Because that’s fine, but we did just have sex without a condom and birth control has been known to fail. You look green. Are you going to throw up?”

Depo is really reliable, Billie told her brain before the nasty voice could chime in again. It takes months to get pregnant after going off birth control. Sometimes over a year. Calm down.

Billie shook her head. “No, I’m fine. We agreed. I just can’t quite believe our six-year-old is who convinced us to try.”

“I keep saying that I can only hope Gigi continues to use her powers for good.”

“I’ll call my doctor tomorrow about fertility testing.”

“In the meantime,” Conrad said in a serious voice. “I think it would be beneficial to do more testing of our own.”

Because Conrad was somewhat of a jack-of-all-trades, who could absolutely be planning a round of blood tests and sonograms, it took Billie a long pause to understand that he meant sex. She huffed out an amused breath and shoved his shoulder.

“And move in together,” he added, like ripping off a bandage.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “We should get some quotes from movers.”

“Because if we’re going to have a baby then—”

Conrad cut himself off as her agreement sank in. Then a megawatt smile broke out over his face, and he wrapped gentle arms around her.

“Gigi and I should move in with you while we get the addition put on,” Conrad said. “Lord only knows how long that will take. They quoted six months.”

“You think Gigi would be okay with that?”

“We’ll soften the blow somehow,” he promised, amusement making his voice deeper.

“That’s where we start with Gigi,” Billie pointed out. She pulled back and clutched his shoulders. “We tell her that we might not be getting married, but we’re all moving in together.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, honey,” Conrad murmured to her. “But how is that going to be different than things are now? You’re here every night.”

“And we have to tell her it’s not forever,” Billie said. “That we’ll move back in here once the extra rooms are done.”

“Because heaven forbid we live in your big beautiful house,” Conrad said with a grin.

And she knew he was teasing but she was legitimately worried about Gigi. Their house was the only home Gigi had ever known, and Billie felt like she was yanking Gigi from it.

“Oh, god, Gigi,” Billie said, as she suddenly realized what was at stake. “What if I can’t get pregnant? And then we’d have broken her heart.”

“Gigi would survive,” Conrad said, kissing her on the cheek. “Plus, we could adopt. Or use a surrogate. We have options.”

Her heart squeezed. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said, blithe.

The joy was back, coursing through her veins and spreading through her limbs.

“I want seventeen,” he continued. “But I have a feeling you’ll cut me off at five.”

“Two.”

“Four,” he countered.

“Three,” she said, indignant.

“Works for me. I’ll quit my job and become a house husband. I’ll moonlight with search and rescue, and you’ll be CEO.”

“Not that you’ve given this much thought at all.” She dropped her eyes to his chest. “But you’re okay if it’s just one more, right?”

“Of course,” he said, soothingly. “And I’d be happy if it’s just us and Gigi. But the more the merrier in my opinion.”

“I can’t do more than three,” Billie said, firm. “Total.”

Then she pictured them—three little girls with the same chins and noses, with big brown eyes, and cheeky grins. The floaty weightlessness was back in her chest.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved to the dresser to pull out clothes.

She took a moment to anchor herself.

“And you’re okay putting a pin in the whole marriage thing?” she asked.

Conrad gave her an amused look as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Are you?”

Relieved, she thought. To him, she said, “I don’t know if I want to get married.”

But she couldn’t quite decide if that was because she had never particularly wanted to, or if it was because he had already done it. Or it was a complicated mix of both. And her brain was tired, so she shoved the conflicting emotions away.

“That’s fair,” he said, voice achingly gentle.

We’re going to have a baby, she thought to herself. And they might have Conrad’s eyes. Or his hair. And they would definitely have his kindness and probably his sass—because even if they weren’t born with those, they would definitely learn those qualities quickly between Conrad and Gigi.

She had been watching him throw his jewelry back on, eyes roving over his bare chest and shoulders as the muscles rippled beneath his skin. She hadn’t realized she was so obviously drooling until he spoke again.

“One more round? Of fertility testing.”

“Yes, please,” she said in the prim voice she knew always turned him on and made him want to muss her up a bit.

He tackled her to the bed, mouth catching hers even as she laughed. When they were both breathing heavily, he pulled back and asked, “Hawkins-Sutton? Or Sutton-Hawkins?”

“I’m not hyphenating,” she said, dazed and panting against his face.

He sucked a kiss onto her neck, and then shushed her gently when she moaned just a little too loudly. They paused, straining to listen. No footsteps came up the stairs, so they relaxed.

“No, I know,” he said belatedly responding to her. “But for the baby.”

“Why would we hyphenate hers?”

“Hers?” he asked.

“You’re a Girl Dad, honey,” she said. She felt drunk. Was that from the feel of him against her? Or was that the happiness? “It’s your fate.”

He pondered that. “That sounds nice.”

“Exactly,” she said primly and watched his eyes darken in response. “Girl Dad.”

Conrad tugged on her towel and then growled when she giggled and held onto it. “Give me that,” he said, and she let go, letting him toss it across the room.

“But we should have her name match Gigi’s,” Billie said.

“But she needs to match you, too,” he said agreeably. “Sutton as a middle name?”

“Sure. And maybe, if we have the baby, I’ll take Hawkins.”

He stilled and pushed himself up on his forearms, hovering half over and half on top of her.

“You’d take my name?” he asked gruff. “I didn’t think you would do that.”

“I’d still use Sutton professionally,” she said. “I just like the idea of all of us matching. It’s cute.”

“You’d take my name?” he asked again.

“Yes, Conrad. I’d take your name.” She felt him shiver against her, and her brow furrowed. “Conrad?”

“That’s so unbelievably hot,” he said.

“I never thought you were that traditional,” she said, the words stilted in her astonishment.

“I’m not,” he said.

Billie eyed him. “Are you okay?”

“Today has melted my brain,” he said, dropping his face into the pillow her head was resting on. “I’m getting everything I want,” he said, voice muffled.

“I’m getting everything I want, too.”

He rolled his head, so that his lips brushed her ear. “Except the name. I don’t care about that.”

“Clearly,” she murmured.

“I just like that you want it.”

“If we have the baby,” she insisted.

“When,” he said.

Then, at the mention of this hypothetical baby, for whom they had already assigned a sex, Billie went icy cold again. “Oh my god. We’re going to have a baby.”

After a second, she realized Conrad was shaking on top of her. She reared back, terrified he was having a seizure, only to find him silently laughing.

“Excuse you,” she said.

“Today melted your brain, too.”

“I never thought I would be here,” she said.

“Happy?”

And she knew he was asking Are you happy? But the other meaning was true, too. She never really thought she would be. Content, yes. Fulfilled, yes. But she never dared to imagine happy.

“Perfectly,” she said.

“If we want to get a round of fertility testing out of the way, we better hurry,” Conrad said, looking at the clock. “Stitch has probably just been re-kidnapped.”

“You better work fast then, doctor.”

He smirked, leaning down and settling his lips on hers in the world’s most gentle touch. Three slow, lazy, languid kisses later, though, he raised his head again. She chased him for a moment, then let her head collapse back on the pillow.

“I’m going to call the contractor in the morning. I’ll get quotes on moving companies, too.”

Impatience swept through her. “Conrad, I am so glad you’re excited. I’m excited, too. Now shut up and kiss me before Stitch goes home.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hawkins.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered. “Now I’m not taking your name just to spite you.”

“That’s fine. Because I’ll always know you wanted to.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her.

[baileegirl]

My hope has been renewed, One more season of The Resident is all we ask for then I would be soooo happy !!! Lets get our show to #1 on Netflix and show the world just how strong our fandom still is, Conillie deserves to have their love story fully explored !!!! And we HAVE to see Devon and Leela’s wedding 💒

[thena0315]

Things worked out in the end for everyone

[mymisguidedthoughts]

The Resident Rewatch:

If we are together & I asked you if anything is going on between you and someone you were seen dancing intimate with & you respond with “we share something that’s hard to describe”

I’M FIGHTING YOU CONRAD. Because you just tried tf out of me. Cade silly as hell. Could not be me.

[fitz-tootsie]

Looking back at some of the episodes in S6, and hoping we get a S7, I've been seeing some foreshadowing, or at least I hope so. When Raptor and Billie were talking about children, and Billie and Gigi had the convo in the car about how some people don't get married and picking out wedding dresses etc. I really hope it's building to a wedding!!!! Or a proposal!!!

[conillie]

The song is We Just Get One Life by Nineoneone

It feels like such a great Conrad and Billie song🥰

[purpledaisiesthings]

It just clicked that the episode opens and closes with someone saying "I love you" to Billie and Billie saying it back.

I'm not crying y'all. I just got something in my eye 😭😭🥺

Just look at this perfect family

Also, Billie is just so freaking gorgeous my gawd. 😍 like c'mon.

[youcantspellinfinity-withoutfinn]

I mean come on 🥰 if you need me I will be right here in this moment…this is Billie’s happy place right here. Hopefully a season 7 will bring us a little conllie baby 🤞🏻

[c1nn4-bunny]

That thing I was working on huehuehue

Now never let me do this again

^ (has so many things he wants to animate)

It's also there I guess:

But why would you?

Separated GIFs of the goobers

The thing I used to switch my aPNG to a gif did NOT like the fact her limbs were translucent as you can see

[savvyk3008]

Oh I love them so freaking much! The way they look at each other is the most precious thing I’ve seen 🥰 I couldn’t be more obsessed with them! My Conllie babies are so endgame and I couldn’t be happier. This episode was everything and more!

[kaitidid22]

Fanfic: Midnight Picnic (Conrad/Billie)

Summary: Billie celebrates New Year's Eve with toddler Gigi and Conrad. (Canon-friendly & set in the lost years.)

A/N: Is anyone else a little irritated with Conrad's "everyone but me" comment?

Billie knocked on the door, shivering in the unseasonably cold evening. A freak snowstorm was headed towards Atlanta. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit land for another day, but the cold spell had hit them several days earlier, dropping the air to well-below any normal late-December temperatures.

When Conrad opened the door, a warm breeze caressed her just before the smell of dinner hit her nose. She had no idea what he was making, but the smell alone made her stomach growl. Before he could speak, she held up the bottle of champagne in her right hand, left still tucked as far behind her as she could get it.

“Happy new year,” Billie said, waiting for his reaction.

Conrad’s eyebrows rose. He would drink champagne—she had discovered—but mostly because it was there, or because the occasion called for it, not by choice. As she watched him strive to look enthusiastic for her sake, she couldn’t maintain the straight face, though. She broke into laughter as she revealed the six-pack of his favorite beer in her other hand. He rolled his eyes, but she saw his lips fighting a smile.

“Sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t help myself. I worked a thirteen-hour shift today, with two major surgeries back-to-back, and I’m punchy as hell. Seemed like a good idea when I was driving past the store.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, dry as he took both the champagne and beer out of her hands. “Come on in, you menace.”

She stepped inside, shut the door, and shrugged out of the jacket before trailing after him deeper into the house and open plan bottom floor. Conrad shoved the champagne and beer in the fridge and came back to gather her jacket out of her arms, leaving her empty-handed and hovering in the space where the hallway gave way to the living room.

A twinge of discomfort prickled along her skin before settling deep in her stomach. She licked her lips and surreptitiously glanced around. Even a year and a half later, she sometimes felt like Nic was going to dash in from the backyard, baby chick in hand, laughing about something Conrad had said. Or come floating down the stairs at top speed to greet Billie, moving in that way that only Nic had—simultaneously rushed and more graceful than anyone else Billie had ever met.

Billie could feel her best friend’s presence in every corner of Conrad and Gigi’s home, and it paralyzed her at the foot of the stairs. Conrad didn’t seem to notice as he hung her coat over one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

She wanted to remind him that he had a coat closet. But he seemed so relaxed that she didn’t want to ruin it with the wrong joke or too much teasing. Not on the first real New Year’s Eve since Nic’s death. The year before, they had all been so dazed by grief the entire holiday season had passed in a blur. Conrad hadn’t even been the one to invite Billie over, so she felt unsure of her footing.

“Your date is in her room if you want to go get her for dinner,” Conrad said over his shoulder as he made a beeline to the pans on the stove.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Billie murmured and escaped.

At Gigi’s door, Billie slowed and watched her goddaughter rifle through a pile of toys on the floor. Gigi really was a gorgeous toddler, and sometimes Billie wondered how a hodgepodge of genetic material could have turned out something so perfect.

Despite merciless teasing, A.J. could never convince Billie that she was biased. Because she wasn’t, and she knew that (perhaps deep down) he knew it, too. Gigi was the funniest, smartest, most beautiful child who had ever existed.

The toddler’s hair was loose around her shoulders, likely still air drying from an earlier bath. Her hair was the longest it had ever been in her short life, nearly brushing her collar bone when she sat still enough for it to settle against her body.

But the thick curtain of blonde was getting in her way, blocking her view as she leaned over the toys, and Billie could see Gigi begin to get frustrated, slapping a toy down on the rug. Billie was about to step into the room and offer to pull Gigi’s hair back when the toddler straightened up and sighed gently. Then her small hands came up, fingers and palms flat against either side of her head and smoothed her hair back in a gentle scrape.

In the span of a millisecond, Billie’s chest collapsed under an avalanche of grief. One hand reached out to brace herself against the doorjamb, and the other settled over her mouth, ready to muffle any noise she might make.

It didn’t happen all the time. Gigi’s personality was so very much hers that Billie rarely looked at her goddaughter and saw anyone except Gigi herself. Every once in a while, though, under certain lights or at specific angles, the shadows would settle just right on her face, and Gigi would become a tiny replica of Nic.

And that gesture, smoothing back her curtain of blonde hair with both hands—more to curb her frustration than tame her hair—had been so Nic. Billie had seen her do it thousands of times.

The sight had been a punch to the solar plexus. She averted her face, dropping her hands and smoothing out her expression in case Gigi looked up to find Aunt Billie destroyed in the doorway.

A hand slid onto Billie’s shoulder and squeezed, gentle but firm, in silent support. I’m here, the squeeze seemed to say. And, without thinking, Billie reached up and put her hand over his wrist, wrapping her fingers around until they brushed the soft skin just beneath Conrad’s palm.

Conrad murmured somewhere to the left of Billie’s ear, “It’s crazy, right?”

Her words were thick as they slopped out of her mouth. “Nature versus nurture is a crock.”

Conrad’s laugh was just a puff of air against the top of her head. He used the weight of his hand on her shoulder to urge her to turn away, and she was glad for the excuse. She needed to fix her face. She needed to sooth herself so that Gigi didn’t see the effect that one small gesture had had on Billie. She was two. She wouldn’t understand.

Conrad’s eyes were bruised as they raked over the pain Billie knew was etched across her face.

“I really miss her,” Billie whispered.

She knew he knew that already. They had spent most of the first year Nic was gone talking about little else. But they had both agreed that, sometimes, all they could do was say it out loud and hear it back.

“Me, too,” he murmured.

His hand squeezed her shoulder again, and she wondered how he could make one gesture so comforting. But, she was learning, that was just Conrad. When he was with you, he was so present that nothing and no one else in the world had his attention; maybe the world outside had ceased to exist—Billie would have believed it.

Then his hand slid away, and he suggested, “Why don’t you go splash water on your face? Meet us downstairs?”

Billie nodded, brushing tears away with her fingers. She used the bathroom upstairs, knowing he wouldn’t mind her wandering through his bedroom. His was the bathroom with the tub, so she had been giving Gigi baths in there once or twice a week for the past year and change. His room was practically as familiar as her own, and she wasn’t surprised to find his bed neatly made and not a single sock or shirt on the floor.

Her apartment was similarly neat, but that was because she employed a maid who came in three times a week.

She almost didn’t want to look in the mirror once she got to the bathroom. But she flicked on the light and checked the damage. Strangely, her face was nowhere near the wreck she thought it should be. Yes, her eyelids were puffy, and the whites had turned pink. Yes, her eyeliner had gone patchy, and mascara had leaked under her lash line.

But Billie still looked like Billie. She was still recognizable as a person, with cheekbones and nose and chin intact and in place. And how was that possible when it felt like someone had reached down her throat and yanked part of her heart out?

She splashed some water on her face, as suggested, then rubbed the mascara out from under her eyes, and told herself smudged eyeliner was all the rage. Then she drew her shoulders back and flounced out of Conrad’s bedroom and down the stairs with as much attitude as she could manage.

Conrad was sitting on the floor with Gigi, who climbed to her feet and toddled over as soon as Billie came down the stairs.

“Aunt Billie!”

Ls were still hard for Gigi, and Billie sounded a little more like “Biwee,” but she thought it was the sweetest sound in the world. Gigi laughed her still-babyish giggle as Billie swung her up into her arms. Relief spread through every inch of Billie’s body.

“It’s my very favorite person!” Billie said. “I was so excited when you called and asked me to come over.”

“Me, too!”

“Are you ready for dinner?” Billie asked. “I heard your dad yelling at the oven to shape up or ship out, so I think it’s ready.”

Gigi giggled again, then held her arms out to her father, who scooped her out of Billie’s arms without hesitation. Still, at the table, Gigi insisted on sitting in Billie’s lap, and they wound up sharing most of Billie’s dinner before Conrad intervened.

“Do you want another plate?” Conrad asked, eyes laughing silently as he clipped the table back onto Gigi’s highchair.

Billie shook her head. “I’m stuffed.”

“Gigi did hand feed you about nine hundred olives,” Conrad said with faux seriousness. “Makes sense.”

Billie felt giddy happiness bubble in her as Gigi lit up at the mention of olives. “All gone,” Billie said to the little girl. “You ate them all.”

“No more olives ever,” Conrad told his daughter.

Gigi looked crestfallen until her father plopped a pink, sparkly cup of juice down in front of her. Content again, Gigi picked it up and sipped at it gently. Then Conrad stood and collected Billie’s plate and his own.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said. “It was delicious. Can I help with the dishes?”

“So formal,” Conrad cried out, making Gigi giggle.

“So formal!” Gigi parroted despite having no idea what her father meant.

Billie couldn’t help but laugh with them. “Manners are a dying art,” she said.

“The dishes,” Conrad said, with a meaningful look at the dishwasher next to him, “are taken care of. But thank you, gentle lady, for the kind offer to scrub my cutlery.”

“You’re very welcome.” After a moment, she added, “Kind sir.”

Conrad grinned as he leaned over to open the dishwasher. Billie watched Gigi carefully lift the cup, both of her tiny hands wrapped around the sparkly plastic. Suddenly, she felt adrift—the only one without something to occupy her hands. Pushing herself to her feet, Billie picked up a few of the dishes off the table and walked them over to the sink.

“I just said you don’t have to do that,” Conrad said, but the lines of his face were easy, unbothered.

On occasion, the knowledge that Conrad Hawkins was her friend, and a good friend no less, would strike Billie as unfathomable. The feeling was a holdover from the early days of knowing each other—back when she thought he was a pompous, arrogant jackass with one set of rules for himself and another for everyone else. (She didn’t like to think about what he had thought of her, mostly because she suspected he had been right.)

Their animosity was so well-known that when Nic finally met him, she called Billie to apologize and explain. Of course, Nic had fallen for him immediately. And, at the time, Billie had found herself weirdly unsurprised because the two of them together somehow made perfect sense—even when she despised the very air Conrad Hawkins breathed. Her worst nightmare, of course. But an understandable nightmare. And, though she had grumbled about it, she had tried her best to ignore it and support Nic however Nic needed.

And then everything had gone down: almost killing Conrad’s patient, losing her job, nearly losing her license, converting to trauma surgery with Partners in Health, operating for three years in an active war zone, and massive amounts of intensive therapy and self-reflection. And, finally, her redemption.

“If you can get your job back at Chastain, you can get along with my husband,” Nic had said, like it was that simple.

And Billie had told her, “I will bet you even money that Hell freezes over before Conrad and I are friends.”

Instead of taking offense, Nic had just smile. “You can do anything, Billie Sutton.”

And, as usual, time had proven Nic right. Oh, Billie and Conrad hadn’t been friends really—friendly, sure, but not friends—before Nic passed. But they had respected each other as doctors and as people. Given her time with Partners in Health and the things she had experienced in Syria, she and Conrad understood each other in a way that the others in their small circle—in their lives—didn’t. As much as Billie hated to admit it, even Nic, whose empathy had known no bounds, could never really understand what it was like practicing medicine in a war zone.

The toll it took on your soul. The real-life horror movies that played on the backs of your eyelids. The decisions that haunted you for the rest of your life. The people you just could not save.

But Billie was ninety-five percent sure that she had won Conrad over simply by how pure her own love had been for his wife and daughter. He had had a hard time keeping her at arm’s length when she had constantly bugged him to let her hold the baby. And he had agreed when Nic insisted that Billie be Gigi’s godmother—Nic had even shared with Billie that he hadn’t argued for a minute, just nodded and told Nic he knew how much Billie meant to her.

“Huge improvement!” Nic had declared. “You have no idea.”

Still, despite all that, the idea that Billie knew Conrad’s favorite brand of beer, or what the tightness around his eyes or a wrinkle between his eyebrows meant during a heated debate, was wild.

Only losing Nic could have done that, brought them together like this, made them close friends. Because losing Nic had left a gaping hole in both of them, and they had grabbed onto each other desperately to fill that gap with the memories each had that the other didn’t. Almost like hearing new stories of Nic, learning new things about her, and hearing her advice on things each of them hadn’t thought to ask, kept her with them longer. Kept her real and not just a ghost. They told themselves it was to keep Nic’s memory alive for Gigi, but that’s what it had become, not how it had started.

And the part that made Billie uncomfortable was the realization that she wouldn’t trade Conrad for any other friend on the planet. As difficult as he was, as intense and argumentative as he could be, his heart was as big as Nic’s. He just chose not to show it until he decided you were safe to show it to.

He had become one of her favorite people over the last year and a half. And she still wasn’t sure she was one of his.

When Billie shook off the thoughts and surfaced out of her reverie, she found Conrad staring at her, hands braced on the counter. He was quietly waiting for her to come back to herself, watching the expression on her face.

And when her eyes focused on him again, he asked barely above a whisper, “You okay?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m just tired. Sorry. It was a long day.”

“If you’re not up for this, Gigi will understand.” His half-smile was wry. “I don’t think she actually knows what New Year’s Eve is. She just wanted an excuse for you to come over.”

Billie laughed quietly. “Are you kidding? This will be fun.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” she said, and tried not to feel like she was exposing her soft center.

But she was rewarded when Conrad’s wry smile turned into a grin. The kind of grin that crinkled the skin around his eyes. A real grin—the kind you had to earn with Conrad.

Then she turned and scooped Gigi out of her highchair. “What do you want to do, my love? We have so much time before bed!”

#

Gigi—the living embodiment of the Talkative Twos—had literally fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence, face down on the floor of the living room. Billie eyed the little girl, bone deep exhaustion seeping through her own body in response. Sleep looked good.

“Should we take her upstairs?” Billie asked from her corner of the sofa.

Conrad took a sip of his beer. “Nah. She’s fine.” At Billie’s shocked look, he added, “I promised she could stay up for the peach drop. If I take her upstairs, we’ll have a tantrum on our hands.”

“You told her she could stay up until midnight?” Billie started to laugh. “Conrad, she’s two.”

“Exactly,” he said. “No stakes promise. I can wake her up right before the drop, and then I’m a superhero, and she’s had a full night’s sleep. Win win.”

“I’m impressed you think that you’re going to make it to midnight,” she said, checking the time on her phone. “It’s only eight-thirteen.”

“That’s why I have you,” he said, with a serious expression. “You’re going to wake me up at eleven-fifty-nine and forty-five seconds.”

She took a moment to let that sink in, that he expected her to stay until midnight, even with Gigi asleep on the floor. “You really think it’s only going to take five seconds to wake her up?”

Conrad narrowed his eyes at her. “Five?”

“She’s going to want the countdown, Hawkins,” Billie pointed out. “Eleven-fifty-nine and forty-five seconds gives you five seconds to get a disoriented, groggy baby into sitting position.”

Conrad scoffed around his beer bottle. “Fine,” he said. “Wake me up at eleven-fifty-nine and thirty seconds.”

“That’s much more realistic,” Billie said, scrunching down into the corner of the sofa.

On the television, one of the bands was taking the stage. The camera swung out over the crowd and then back towards the stage. When the music started, Conrad lowered the volume on the television.

“Who are these people?” Conrad asked.

Billie stifled a yawn. “Australian band. Big with the tween set.”

“Huh,” he said, sounding disgusted.

#

Thirty minutes or so later, they were both up and pacing past each other in the hallway. “I can’t believe we fell asleep,” Conrad said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Gigi.

“We’re the worst,” Billie said, as she brushed past him.

“We have three hours left,” Conrad said. “We have to stay awake.”

“We could just set an alarm,” Billie said.

“What if Gigi wakes up? Sees us asleep and thinks she missed it?”

“No, you’re right,” Billie said, immediately horrified at herself. “Of course.”

They both stopped and stared at each other. Billie raced through all the ways she had kept herself awake in med school, despite the crushing workload and her driving need to be perfectperfectperfect.

“Calisthenics?” Billie asked.

Conrad’s lips twitched and the crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. Through her bleary, exhausted gaze, Billie realized he was laughing at her.

“Or not,” she said faintly.

“Let’s start with coffee,” he said, brushing past her to head towards the kitchen. “If that doesn’t work, we can move to jumping jacks.”

She trailed after him because she knew she couldn’t sit back down on the sofa without falling asleep a second time. She watched him fill the coffee pot, vaguely jealous he had a task to focus on, and then wandered to the glass doors that overlooked the backyard.

She blinked, trying to clear the haze of sleepiness from her eyes that made everything slightly blurry. But she couldn’t seem to get her eyes to focus. And then she squinted. The backyard looked…wrong. Greyed out but too bright, like someone had turned a light on close to the ground. Or like the ground was glowing?

She stared for a few beats before her brain finally clicked on, and she realized what was happening.

Oh no, she thought. She licked her lips and said, “Conrad?”

He grunted at her from his spot at the counter. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Conrad.”

Her voice was stronger this time, and she knew he heard the urgency because what he said was, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s snowing.”

He was at her side in less time than it took her to blink. He absorbed the view, then swore under his breath. He strode to the television and turned the sound back up.

“—likely delayed unless this blows over. The good news,” the anchor said, “is that 5 Seconds of Summer has agreed to stay for another set! We’ll be back after a short break. Don’t go anywhere.”

Conrad’s chin slowly came up as he turned to meet Billie’s gaze.

“It’s only nine,” she said quickly. “This could blow over before midnight.”

He nodded. Then he looked bleakly at the counter where the coffeepot was starting to hiss. “And we have coffee.”

“Yeah,” Billie said, as soothingly as she could. “We have coffee.”

#

Conrad pulled out a deck of cards and taught her how to play Hearts. Then they played Gin Rummy. Then they resorted to Go Fish around ten-thirty when they realized that their ability to count had been brutally reduced by exhaustion.

They each kept one eye on Gigi. She slept peacefully, undisturbed by the sound of the television, which Conrad had decided to leave at a reasonable volume so they could hear the announcements. They took turns eyeing the snow through the window, which ebbed and flowed over the next two hours but remained constant.

Just before eleven, the anchor came back on the screen, and they both dropped their cards to lean forward in anticipation.

“We’ve just learned that the peach has frozen in place,” the announcer said. Tension was obvious in her pinched expression, even through the blindingly white smile she had plastered in place. “Until we get a break in the snow, the fire department has said it’s too dangerous to allow anyone to climb to the point. But the good news is 5 Seconds of Summer will be back with another set after these messages.”

Conrad squeezed his eyes shut on a groan.

“I’ll make more coffee,” Billie said, patting his forearm. “You can mute it. We won’t miss anything.”

He picked up the remote as she walked towards the coffee pot, and all sound ceased behind her.

#

Eleven forty-seven p.m.

“Truth,” Billie said, cradling her cup of coffee. “I don’t have energy for a dare.”

Conrad laughed. “Fair point. Okay. Truth. What would you have done if, five years ago, someone had said you would be spending New Year’s Eve with me after letting my baby eat your dinner?”

Billie’s stomach twisted with nerves. They never really talked about the Before of their relationship.

“Well… I probably would have pointed out that it’s a very specific scenario,” Billie said. “And I never would have believed them.”

“But what would you have done?” Conrad pressed.

She could tell he was as exhausted as she was, and she assumed he was grasping at conversation. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

He gave her a look that said he thought she was obfuscating, and she held up a hand to ward off his irritation.

“I really don’t,” she told him. “I’m not the same person I was, and it’s really hard to put myself back in her shoes.” She hesitated, and then decided to go ahead and say it. “But I can tell you that when Nic told me she met you, and that you had asked her on a date, and she wanted to go… I told her she should.”

His eyebrows slowly rose up his brow.

Billie ducked her chin, suddenly self-conscious under his steady gaze. “She was excited. I could tell she liked you. And she knew my opinion of you. I hadn’t been quiet about that—”

She cut herself off, inwardly wincing. But, to her surprise, Conrad chuckled, apparently completely at ease with the idea that Billie had once hated him. And his ease made her nerves fade.

“So, knowing all of that, if Nic saw something in you that made her want to give you a chance…”

Billie trailed off, helpless in the face of explaining something that was unexplainable; a connection that had been steadier and purer than anything else she had ever experienced. Conrad waited, quiet in his corner of the sofa.

“I trusted Nic’s opinion of people,” she said finally. “She was always a better judge of character than I was. Yes, she could see the best and that meant she sometimes missed flaws or chose to ignore them… but it also meant she ignored mine, for which I was very grateful. And she knew her own limits. She was good at setting boundaries. So, yeah, I supported her decision to see you.”

Billie shrugged, circling back to his question, with her eyes locked on the coffee in her mug. “I don’t know what I would have done if someone had told me I’d be spending New Year’s Eve with you and your baby. No idea.”

Silence rang in her ears for so long that she squirmed. But Conrad continued to be silent until she looked up and found him watching her.

“You are a constant surprise,” Conrad said, voice serious.

It felt like approval. Not as Gigi’s godmother, or Nic’s best friend—both roles making her an inevitable part of his life rather than a decision he had made for himself. His words felt like approval of her for her, as a person, someone he had chosen to let in.

She felt herself flush with pleasure. But she covered by flashing him an arch look. “Just keeping you on your toes, Hawkins.”

His lips twitched up on one side. “Duly noted.”

#

Twelve-oh-five a.m.

“I hated this rug,” Billie said.

Conrad’s face squished up in confusion. “What?”

Billie reached out a toe and tapped it against the living room rug. “This rug. Nic sent me a picture when she was thinking about buying it. I told her I hated it.”

“You hate my rug,” Conrad said. He was so expressionless that she couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement.

“No, not anymore.” She gestured around the room. “Once I saw it in the space, Nic was totally right. It tied the whole room together.” Billie shook her head and sat up straighter. “This isn’t the point.”

“I should hope not,” Conrad said.

For a moment, she was terrified that she had angered him. But when she turned to look at him, his eyes were dancing. The tension eased from her shoulders.

“My point is that Nic didn’t always favor my opinion over yours,” she said sternly.

“Only, like, ninety percent of the time,” he argued.

“Eighty,” she countered.

He barked out a laugh, and then slapped a hand over his mouth. They both turned to look at Gigi with bated breath, but the toddler stirred only for a second before sinking back into slumber.

#

Eleven-forty a.m.

“Conrad,” Billie said.

She didn’t want to tell him this. She really, really did not want to tell him this. Their conversation had dried up fifteen minutes before, and neither had made an effort to restart it.

He looked miserable. His eyes were half-open, and even his hair lay flat, the gel having given up an hour before.

“What?” he asked absently scrolling on his phone.

He had mumbled something about Twitter, and she assumed he was hoping to find news on the delay.

“I’m starving,” she said.

His entire body went rigid. He hadn’t even looked up from his phone yet, eyes still trained on the screen. As if to punctuate the moment, her stomach growled—long and loud.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Conrad’s eyes finally turned to her. “My kid ate your entire dinner, feeding you nothing but olives. You’ve managed to stay awake after a thirteen-hour shift and two surgeries just to make my daughter happy. And you’re apologizing for being hungry at almost one in the morning.”

She blinked. Her voice was tentative—because she wasn’t quite sure what she was agreeing with—when she said, “Yes?”

“Where did you come from?” he asked, eyes searching her face. Then he shook himself. “Sorry. I’m really tired. I’m not even sure what that meant. Sandwich?”

“Leftovers are fine,” she said. She pointed over her shoulder. “I could just heat up a plate if you don’t mind me rummaging in your fridge.”

“Rummage away,” he murmured. But when she stood, his said, “Wait.”

Then he shot off the couch, and she hovered in place as he strode to the stairs. He took them two at a time and disappeared around the bend at the landing. Billie glanced down at Gigi, not sure what to do.

He was back almost as soon as he had gone, a blanket in his arms. Billie watched as he spread it on the living room floor, right next to where his daughter lay, dead to the world. Then he pointed at it.

“Sit,” he said.

And she did. She watched as he headed to the kitchen, flung open the fridge, and started piling things onto the counter. Bread. Cheese. The Tupperware of olives she had legitimately hoped never to see again. An assortment of other packages and containers that she couldn’t recognize the brands on from so far away. He pulled a tray out of one of the cupboards, piled everything unceremoniously onto it and carried it back into the living room.

“I was planning to take Gigi on a picnic this weekend if the weather warmed up,” he said as he settled onto the blanket across from her. “Given the snow, I doubt we’ll make it. Dig in.”

“We should wake her up,” she said.

Conrad stared at her with a level of suspicion that made her choke down a laugh. “But the peach—” he started.

“Is so not happening,” Billie said, interrupting gently. “And if we have a midnight picnic, and she doesn’t get to come? She’ll be devastated.”

Conrad didn’t even bother admitting she was right out loud. He just leaned over and rubbed a hand on Gigi’s back, speaking softly to her until the toddler rolled over and sat up. She rubbed her tiny fists against her eyes.

“Peach?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. The peach isn’t dropping this year,” Billie said, running a hand over Gigi’s hair.

“It’s snowing,” Conrad said. “So they can’t do it.”

“Snow?” Gigi asked, perking up. “Sled?”

“It’s still nighttime,” Conrad told her. “But once it’s light, we can go check out the hill.”

Gigi smiled, still sleepy but happy. And Billie forgave the snow.

“We decided to have our own celebration,” Billie told the little girl. “A midnight picnic!”

“Yay!” Gigi said.

Billie glanced up and watched Conrad gaze adoringly at his daughter. “It was your dad’s idea,” she added and watched a smile twist at Conrad’s lips.

Gigi shifted until she was leaning against Conrad’s thigh. Billie wished Nic could see the pure trust and love in Gigi’s tiny body; Nic would have been so proud. But Billie roughly pushed that thought away as soon as it occurred to her because she was tired and didn’t trust herself not to cry in front of Gigi if she thought about Nic and everything she would miss.

“Dig in,” Conrad said again, this time to both of them.

Conrad busied himself with opening packages and cutting pieces of bread, and Billie fed bits of cheese to Gigi. She popped a few in her own mouth, as well, but it was so much more fun to feed the baby that she kept getting distracted.

“Eat,” Conrad told her at one point. He held out a piece of bread with goat cheese, tomato, and arugula that she had thought he was fixing for himself.

She shook herself and took it out of his hand. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

Immediately, Gigi pointed at the bread in Billie’s hand. She opened her tiny mouth, but Conrad beat her to it.

“Gigi, let her eat it,” Conrad said.

His tone wasn’t scolding but firm, and Billie glanced down at the little girl’s crestfallen expression. Then she borrowed Conrad’s knife and cut a small piece off. She carefully left off the tomato since Gigi always spit tomato back out again and the arugula because… well, what kid liked arugula?

“You don’t have to do that,” Conrad said as Billie held the smaller piece out to Gigi.

“It makes her happy,” Billie said with a small shrug.

They watched the toddler try to stuff the whole thing in her mouth at once. Even Conrad had to chuckle.

“It’s a phase,” Conrad muttered and rubbed his forehead. “She wants whatever you’re eating.”

“It’s normal,” she said to reassure him.

She sounded confident, and Conrad nodded, appeased. But she had to admit to herself that she actually wasn’t sure. Gigi was the only baby that Billie had spent time around consistently through their development. Maybe Gigi was weird, but it was so cute that Billie just didn’t care. It made her feel like Gigi’s favorite. And she really, really wanted to be Gigi’s favorite.

Billie made it halfway through her own share of the cheese bread before Gigi spotted the tub of olives. She got on all fours to reach her hand inside the Tupperware, and Billie knew what was coming even before Gigi sat back on her knees and held an olive out towards Billie.

Billie swallowed a groan as Conrad smothered a laugh behind his hand. But Gigi looked so happy and hopeful holding the olive between her tiny fingers that Billie leaned over and let Gigi pop the olive in her mouth.

“Mm,” Billie said around her nine hundred and first olive of the night. “Delicious.”

#

Gigi fell asleep as soon as Conrad and Billie stood to clean up the picnic. Conrad carried her to bed without making her brush her teeth.

“One night won’t kill her,” he had muttered, and Billie had reassured him, “No. It won’t.”

She finished wiping down the counter, while she listened to Conrad moving around upstairs. She was just pulling on her coat when she heard him step back into the kitchen behind her.

“Whoa,” he said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She turned, fixing the collar of her coat. “Going home,” she said.

“Absolutely not. You’re exhausted,” he said, hands finding his hips. His brow furrowed into the stern expression she knew so well. “You’re staying here. Take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“If I’m staying here,” she said, then paused, “and thank you for that because, yes, I am exhausted. But if I’m staying here, then I’m definitely taking the couch.”

They looked at each other, both stubborn and unyielding, and Billie could literally see the moment he gave up.

Conrad sighed. “Fine. I’ll get the blankets.”

“Fine,” Billie said. “I’m going to steal one of your pillows. The good one.”

“Which one is the good one?” he asked as she followed him up the stairs.

“The fluffiest one you have,” she said. And it was the silliest conversation they had ever had, punctuated by Conrad snort of a laugh.

He paused at the linen closet, and she brushed past him into his bedroom and grabbed a pillow off his bed. But when she turned back, his bedroom door was closed.

“Go to sleep,” he called through the door quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her brain thought through the puzzle. She could open the door and follow him downstairs. But if she insisted on the couch, that would lead to an argument. And Conrad was more than willing to fight dirty. If he laid down on the couch and refused to get up, what could she do? She couldn’t bodily move him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat that she couldn’t quite explain and called back, “Good night, Conrad.”

She stood at the door for a while, one hand on the wood. But he didn’t respond, and she never heard him pad back down the stairs.

As she climbed into his bed and closed her eyes, Billie told herself she wasn’t trying to sniff out any lingering hint of the floral perfume Nic wore or the peppermint shampoo she had used for a decade.

It had been a year and a half. Of course, Billie wasn’t doing that.

[baileegirl]

I will forever miss CoNic but to see Conrad this In love again brings my heart so much joy it’s almost pathetic, and Billie deserves this kind of love more then anyone. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 This show has to get renewed for another season !!! I’m ready for the Conllie love story to truly be explored !