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kaitidid22 · 1 year

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All the Love (light Conrad/Billie, with Billie & Everybody)

Summary: Leela and Devon are getting married. Billie is dealing with egomaniacal surgeons. And everybody wants Jessica (in their OR). (Canon-friendly to date & set post-season 6.)

A/N: I had so many AO3 tags on this one.

All the Love

“Three days to go,” Billie said brightly as Leela walked into Billie’s office.

“Don’t remind me,” Leela said, but a smile was hiding behind her haggard expression. “We still have a million things to do, and the caterer apparently no longer makes one of the appetizers we ordered. How does that even happen? We ordered it six months ago. So, we’ve been debating mini crostini versus mac and cheese balls for almost twenty-four hours.”

“Mac and cheese bites?” Billie asked, startled.

From what she knew of Leela’s fusion Roaring Twenties in Bollywood theme, fried balls of mac and cheese being passed around the reception seemed a bit… off.

“Exactly!” Leela shook her head in disbelief. “Devon is insisting. For the kids, he says. We’ve invited, like, five children. Arjun and Elijah, who are barely eating solid foods. One of our cousins has a baby. And Gigi and Sammie, who are both in the wedding, and the only two old enough to even eat a mac and cheese ball.”

Leela groaned. “But Devon is going to win on this because I’m too tired to keep saying ‘it’s not on theme, Devon.’ Plus, he’s being so damn cute about it. For the kids! Damn him. I hate that he’s going to win. Mac and cheese? Why?”

Billie’s face screwed up in sympathy. “I’m sorry. At least they’re delicious.”

Leela gave her a suspicious look. “You eat mac and cheese balls?”

“My goddaughter is six,” Billie pointed out. “I’ve eaten all the fried foods she can get her tiny hands on. She’s especially fond of fried okra.”

Leela’s lips pursed. “Ew.”

Billie laughed. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. They’ll revoke your Southerner card.”

“At least Devon isn’t insisting on fried okra,” Leela said, staring into the distance.

As much as Billie loved weddings—and she really, really loved weddings—planning a wedding had always sounded like a nightmare to her. She watched Leela take a deep, cleansing breath, eyes fluttering shut as she centered herself, and then Leela slapped a smile on her face and looked Billie square in the eye.

Oh no, Billie thought. Et tu, Brute?

“Anyway,” Leela said. “I need to talk to you.”

“You need a consult?” Billie asked, hoping that’s what was happening.

“No,” Leela said. “I want to talk to you about Jessica.”

You and every other surgeon, Billie thought.

But she smoothed out her face into its professional mien and said, “What about Nurse Feldman?”

Leela’s confidence faltered for a moment when confronted with the expressionless face and formal tone. But then she rallied. “As you know, I’ve taken on the patient load that Dr. Bell would have handled. And he has been a fantastic mentor for several years.”

“Yes, we’re all relieved he’s going to continue on in a teaching capacity,” Billie said.

With the others, Billie had rushed them along—get to the point, Dr. Yamada. But Leela was a new attending, and Billie wanted to encourage her to stand up for herself and make the bold asks. So, Billie waited as Leela struggled to force herself to say the words.

Leela squared her shoulders. “I’ve worked almost exclusively with Jessica in the OR for the past year. I feel we make an excellent team, and I want to continue our partnership in a more official capacity.”

“Meaning?”

“I’d like Jessica to be dedicated to my surgeries.” After a long pause, Leela hastened to add, “When possible.”

Billie clicked her tongue. “You almost had it.”

Leela sighed, shoulders drooping a little. “I fumbled at the end.”

“So close,” Billie said.

Leela gave Billie the trademark hopeful expression that always reminded Billie of how young Leela truly was. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think you have a solid argument,” Billie said, choosing her words cautiously. “I also think that hospital policy dictates scrub nurses be assigned as shifts allow.”

Leela’s eyes turned determined, ready to fight for what she wanted. “Is this because I’m so junior? I know I only made attending a few—”

“No,” Billie said firmly. “This is hospital policy. Which was written, in part, as a protection for the nurses. They don’t report to surgeons, and they should never be put in a position where a surgeon, or any doctor, has that much control over their careers in the hospital. Bell’s arrangement was an exception to that policy granted on the basis of a career spent working with a long line of scrub nurses over years at Chastain.”

It was the exact response she had given to all of the surgeons who had come to her office hoping to poach the same arrangement with Jessica that Dr. Bell had managed to swing. What none of them seemed to understand was that Jessica had requested the arrangement. Jessica loved working with Bell, and she had made sure it had been a stipulation of her renegotiated contract that she be assigned to as many of his surgeries as possible.

Over time, as Bell had handled fewer and fewer on-call emergencies, his and Jessica’s schedules had aligned to the point that Jessica had rarely—if ever—assisted elsewhere. Until the MS flares began, and Bell had been forced to take weeks away from the hospital at a time. Then Jessica had been back in the usual scrub nurse rotation, assigned as cases came in, and all the surgeons had gotten a taste of having her in their OR. And that had only whetted their appetites.

The surgical staff had too much respect for Dr. Bell to try and request Jessica until he announced his intention to step away from surgery. Bell had kept the news under wraps for months as he slowly moved his surgical duties onto Leela, including the small practice of regular patients he had kept.

But he had made an announcement the week before, and, unfortunately, it had become a feeding frenzy that Billie was trying to battle one ego-driven conversation at a time. A.J., of course, had made it to Billie’s office first. But the rest had soon followed.

Billie had even gone to the Chief Nursing Officer and the medical nurse manager, who supervised the entire staff of scrub nurses, to make sure she was giving the appropriate response. Billie had expected them to be upset at the surgeons’ behavior, at the subtle suggestion that the rest of their scrub staff wasn’t as desirable. Instead, both of them had rolled their eyes and laughed.

And Billie had realized that everyone in the hospital knew that Jessica was the very best, the cream of the crop. It was how she had negotiated such a stellar contract to begin with. Across the board, everyone had already been aware that Jessica’s success wasn’t just Bell’s favoritism in action. And, if there was any jealousy among the scrub team, Billie hadn’t seen any indication of it in that conversation with the nursing leadership.

But it meant that Billie had a problem on her hands. Because eventually the surgeons were going to realize that Jessica had full authority over the decision. Billie could only hold them off for so long. Surgeons were competitive to a fault and would stop at nothing to get what they wanted—because most of them firmly believed they were entitled to anything and everything under the sun.

In short, as long as Jessica remained unassigned, the situation was a ticking time bomb.

“Do you understand?” Billie asked Leela.

Disappointment lingered on Leela’s face, but she nodded. “Of course. Thank you for your time, chief.”

Oh jeez, Billie thought at the sound of her title from Leela’s mouth.

But Leela held her head high as she left Billie’s office. And Billie felt a burst of pride for Leela.

~*~

Billie strode through the double doors that led to the emergency department and breathed in the bitter smell of antiseptic and the lemon from the cleaning products. She had a Pavlovian response to the smell now, which tended to linger on Conrad’s skin and hair until he showered after a shift. And her eyes found him almost immediately, clear across on the other side of the department, grinning down at a patient on a gurney.

But she wasn’t looking for Conrad, and she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Her eyes checked the central bay desk first and got lucky. Jessica was standing with her husband, Irving, and Billie’s lips thinned when she saw the giant arrangement of flowers in Jessica’s arms. It contained an ombréassortment of at least two dozen red, fuchsia, and pink roses, along with a cadre of other flowers to round out the aesthetic. They sat in a beautiful, ornate vase that was wrapped in a delicate silk ribbon. The whole thing was large enough that Jessica’s body and part of her face was mostly hidden behind dense petals.

Damn, Billie thought. They know already.

“Nice flowers,” Billie said dryly.

Jessica peeked around the bouquet, spotted Billie, and flushed slightly. Billie felt a flash of guilt but wasn’t sure how to address it. She let her eyes flick to Irving.

“Please tell me those are from you,” Billie said.

He gave her an arch look. “You think I can afford that kind of arrangement? Did you see the vase?”

“Hey,” Conrad said from behind her.

Everything inside of Billie softened and warmed as she watched him step up behind one of the other monitors in the nursing bay. She hadn’t spent the night at his place thanks to an ICU patient that had kept her in her office on pins and needles, and it had been almost fifteen hours since she had seen him. Their eyes locked, and a soft smile spread across her face. He braced a hand on either side of the keyboard and smiled back at her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Good morning,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

“Oh my god,” Jessica gushed. “You two are just so adorable.”

“Right? This is what I’ve been saying,” Irving said.

Conrad straightened with a grin and looked back at the computer. “Did you need something?” he asked, typing.

“I have a surgery in thirty minutes,” Jessica said, still smiling broadly at the two of them. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "I should get moving."

“Actually,” Billie said, her attention snapping back into focus. “I need to talk to you.”

Jessica froze, eyes clearing. “Me?” she squeaked.

“Yes,” Billie said firmly.

“Is it about the flowers?” Jessica asked in a rush. “Because I did not ask for these—”

“No, I know.”

“—and the gift certificate to the spa was a total shock—”

“The what?” Billie asked, stunned.

“Honey,” Irving said quietly.

“—and I’m so sorry, Dr. Sutton,” Jessica said, still rushing through all the words. “I really didn’t mean to cause all of this—”

Billie held up a hand. “You have nothing to apologize for.” She took a deep breath and stuck her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “I’m actually here to apologize to you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Conrad’s head jerk up to squint at her. In front of Billie, Irving and Jessica both looked flummoxed.

“You’re apologizing to me?” Jessica asked. “Why?”

“The way my staff is behaving is entirely inappropriate,” Billie said. “They shouldn’t be pressuring you like this.”

Jessica eyed the bouquet. “I really don’t mind.”

Billie grinned at her. “I can imagine it’s a little fun.”

“You have no idea,” Jessica gushed.

Billie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Still,” she said gently. Then she hesitated, eyes bouncing around the busy ED. “We can talk about this in private if you’d like.”

“Here is fine,” Jessica said with a shrug. “Everyone knows everything in this hospital anyway.”

Irritation surged for a moment at the reminder. The gossip mill had bitten Billie a few times in the past. But she tamped down on the trauma-based reaction.

Focus, she told herself.

“Very true,” Billie said. “I know you have to prep for a surgery, so I’ll be as brief as I can.”

Billie’s professional tone had Jessica’s spine straightening. Irving looked suspicious and stony, as if nothing could make him move from his wife’s side.

“You are, by far, the best scrub nurse we have,” Billie said. “And that competition is fierce at Chastain.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sutton,” Jessica said, sounding touched.

“I’ve spoken with the chief nursing officer, as well as your direct supervisor. I know that they spoke with you last week about this.”

“They did,” Jessica said.

“They did?” Irving murmured to his wife.

“Yes,” she hissed back.

“You did an excellent job renegotiating your contract, and it clearly stipulates that you have control over your own schedule. You can choose your surgeries. I wasn’t aware of that,” Billie admitted. “I should have been.”

Jessica was blushing but looked pleased. The entire ED staff had edged closer, lingering around the central bay to eavesdrop while pretending to read through charts. A few patients weren’t even trying to pretend they weren’t fascinated by the conversation. “The thing is,” Billie said, pushing forward despite their audience, reminding herself that she thrived under pressure. “You’re a team player, Jessica. Not once during any of Bell’s leaves of absence did you take advantage of that clause in your contract. You go wherever you’re told, assist wherever you’re asked to assist.”

“Of course,” Jessica said, clearly flustered.

Irving reached out a hand and placed it on her back, a smile playing with his lips.

“That’s not an of course,” Billie said firmly and calmly. Her chin was high, face serious, as she looked at Jessica. “Most people would abuse that privilege. And you’re holding proof in your hands that my staff would take full advantage of any edge they thought they might have.”

Billie heard some stifled laughter but ignored it. Jessica bit her lip against a smile and glanced at her husband. Irving’s smile had broadened to a full, proud grin.

“You’ve earned the right to choose what surgeon you’re dedicated to going forward. Your supervisor and I are in full agreement,” Billie said. “We’ll stand behind your decision, and I’ll handle the conversations with the rest of the surgical staff. If anyone gives you trouble, or gets too pushy, tell me, and I’ll handle that, too.”

Billie cleared her throat, getting to the bad news. “I know that all of this happened very suddenly,” she continued. “So, your supervisor has bought you some time to make the decision. But I do need you to make it within the month, which I think she told you last week. I’m sorry we had to put a deadline on it—”

“No, no,” Jessica said, rushing to assure. “I understand, and it’s very generous.”

Billie allowed herself a small—still very professional—smile at the other woman. “But Jessica,” Billie said. “Do me one favor?”

Jessica’s brows lifted slightly.

“Make them work for it,” she said, with a nod at the flowers Jessica held.

She heard Conrad’s guffaw and tossed him a smile as she turned to go. Everyone scurried to look away, though she saw a few patients watching her with curious eyes.

“Thank you, Dr. Sutton,” Jessica called to Billie.

“Of course. Show’s over everyone,” Billie said as she strode back out of the emergency department.

~*~

Billie had known Leela was an artist for years. She had come across Leela’s sketchbook once back when she had been an intern and marveled over her talent before Leela had self-consciously shoved it back in her bag. But the wedding was beyond gorgeous, beyond anything Billie would have expected or could have imagined.

The ceremony took place outside in front of the famous fountain of the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Gigi and Sammie—the ultimate flower girl duo once again—had both been covered with swirling mehndi designs from fingertips to elbows and threw magnolia petals as they danced down the path in matching red dresses with full tulle skirts.

Leela walked the aisle in a gold sari with an art deco inspired pattern with rhinestones scattered across the delicate fabric. Her blouse had cutouts at the shoulders and had jewels sewn into the pieces, heavy enough to make it drape where they wrapped around her upper arms. Devon had chosen—or, perhaps Leela had chosen for him— a gold and taupe kurta with red accenting that perfectly complemented the coloring of Leela’s sari.

Billie realized she might be biased, but she wasn’t sure she had ever seen a more beautiful bride. Nic, of course, but that had only been in photos—one of Billie’s biggest regrets. Leela practically glowed, and Billie was fairly certain Devon was crying during the vows.

Following the ceremony, the guests were allowed to wander through the gardens until the sunset cocktail hour. Sammie and Gigi had stuck to Billie’s side like glue, and she had walked them through most of the exhibits. Conrad had tagged along, fingers entwined with Billie’s as she patiently answered questions and looked up information on butterflies and flowers. Sammie had calmly taken everything in with her bright, quick gaze, and Gigi had flounced along beside her, stopping to twirl in her dress over and over.

“This is a fantastic wedding,” Billie murmured to Conrad, as their small group left one of the massive orchid exhibits.

“Devon and Leela know how to throw a party,” he murmured back.

The reception tent had been fully enclosed during the ceremony, and the flaps had been pulled back only once the catering team was ready to seat everyone for dinner. Gigi and Sammie had gasped loudly as they all stepped inside.

The far end of the tent opened directly into one of the Gardens’ hot houses, and a dancefloor was set in the middle, with all the tables lined around the perimeter. Sets of beautiful, gauzy red draperies came down from the ceiling, gathered around golden lanterns that hung from high above them and burnished everything in a warm glow.

“Do I pay them too much?” Kit muttered.

Billie and Conrad choked back laughter as Bell rolled his eyes. “Kit.”

“I’m kidding,” she insisted. “Mostly.”

At dinner, Billie, Gigi, and Conrad were seated at table number four, with Sammie, Kit, Randolph, Jake, Gregg, Irving, and Jessica. It was the perfect group. Billie wasn’t really in the mood for strangers. Not at Leela and Devon’s wedding. She had enough trouble making conversation with strangers on a normal day, let alone when she felt so emotional, warm, and fuzzy.

They spent most of dinner laughing, with Gigi and Sammie keeping them all entertained. Padma, A.J., Arjun, and Elijah were seated at the family table, and A.J. kept glancing over with longing in his eyes. Conrad waved at him once, and he had glared until Gigi turned to see who her father was waving at. Then A.J. cleared his face into a pleasant smile and waved back.

The girls, of course, had become restless once they were full. After a few minutes of fidgeting, Gregg had offered to walk them through the hot house, and the trio had disappeared.

In the quiet that descended on the table, Conrad’s hand slid under Billie’s hair to curl around the back of her neck, thumb stroking her skin. She let her eyes flutter shut for a moment and soaked in the feeling. When she opened them again, Jessica had switched chairs with her husband, leaving her to sit next to Billie.

“Dr. Sutton?” Jessica asked.

Billie turned to her with an easy smile. “You can call me Billie, Jessica, it’s fine.”

Obvious hesitation crossed the scrub nurse’s face, and Billie laughed softly. She knew the sound was light and happy, more so than it ever was at the hospital. But she didn’t care. It was an excellent night. Conrad’s fingers were warm against her skin, and Gigi was happy, and Leela and Devon were moon-eyed at their table for two in the center of it all, and it was one of those moments in life that were always so fleeting where it felt like absolutely nothing could ever go wrong again.

Billie gave Jessica a curious look. “You used to call me Billie all the time.”

“That was before,” Jessica insisted.

“Before what?”

“Before you were chief,” Jessica said, like this meant something.

Billie supposed it did, though hospital hierarchy rarely crossed her mind unless a surgeon came to her with a problem. She had been thrilled to make chief—especially so young, and especially after everything that had happened at Chastain. But she hadn’t thought it made anyone look at her any differently (other than because it gave her greater access to the purse strings).

Most especially Jessica, of all people, who had been the scrub nurse in Billie’s OR when she made the biggest mistake of her career that gave Conrad’s patient a stroke. The scrub nurse who had warned Billie to wait for Aronson, that something was off with the patient’s levels on the monitor. The same scrub nurse that Billie had ignored and snippily told she had everything under control—when Billie very much had not.

Sometimes it still amazed Billie that she and Jessica were even friendly. Jessica had as much right to hate Billie as Conrad had.

In other circumstances, Billie could have said all of that to Jessica. She never had and probably should have at some point. But they were at Leela and Devon’s wedding, so, instead, “We pre-date that,” was all Billie chose to say.

“True,” Jessica murmured, and for some reason her eyes flicked to Bell.

Billie followed the gaze and found Kit and Bell watching them. “I’m all ears on this,” Bell said.

“Same,” Kit said.

“What’s going on?” Billie asked, looking between the three of them.

“I was hoping to ask your advice,” Jessica said quickly, pulling Billie’s attention back to her.

“My advice on what?” Billie asked.

“On my decision.”

“Oh.” Billie straightened in her chair, and Conrad’s hand fell away as he leaned forward, elbows finding the table. “What about it?”

Jessica looked down at her folded hands, and Irving’s hand came over to cover his wife’s. “I wondered what you would do… if you were me?”

Billie’s brows rose, and she looked back at Bell. He shrugged and said, “She already has my advice.”

Billie nodded once and licked her lips. “Well, I think the first thing we have to acknowledge is that this decision isn’t final. Meaning, if you chose a surgeon and then decided you hated working with them, we could move you again. You’re not going to lose your value, Jessica. You’ll always have that leverage. For lack of a better phrase,” she murmured.

Jessica nodded, eyes studying Billie as she absorbed the words.

“The other piece of this is that you don’t have to choose to dedicate yourself to anyone,” Billie emphasized, and Jessica’s eyes dropped back to her hands. “You’ve already displayed the agility to move between specialties. If what you wanted to do was stay part of the rotation, then we would absolutely support that. If what you want is to move into a training position, or if you were interested in a management track, then we would make that happen. I hear you’re an amazing mentor to the scrub staff.”

Billie put a hand on the table and leaned forward to catch Jessica’s eye. “I don’t want you to think that your career will ever be determined by a surgeon. Any surgeon. You have many, many options. And none of them are going away.”

“Thank you,” Jessica said. Her eyes flicked to Bell again, then she pulled a hand free from Irving’s grip to stack on top of her husband’s.

“Beyond that, if you did choose…” Billie trailed off. She thought for a moment, all the faces of her surgical staff flipping through her mind like flash cards. “I don’t know, to be honest. We have so many talented surgeons. General will have the most varied cases, but Leela is young and inexperienced. She doesn’t have much pull yet in terms of shift hours. Trauma will have a good load with a lot of variety, but the hours are unpredictable.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Cardio is an exciting field, always evolving, but James mostly does small procedures. And a lot of them,” she said dryly. “He has twice the surgical load of any other surgeon on staff.”

“And brings in more money than God,” Kit added. “Bless him.”

“I’m trying to entice Jake back to lead our plastics team,” Billie said, with a sly glance at Bell’s stepson.

He looked down shyly. “You flatter me.”

“But so far no dice,” Billie admitted on a sigh. “And you’ll need to make a decision long before he returns.”

“If I return,” Jake said.

“Before he gets back,” Bell said. Kit smacked him on the shoulder, but Jake just chuckled.

Ignoring his wife’s very physical admonishment, Bell asked, “What about neuro?”

“Ah,” Billie said with a humorless smile. “Neuro is hard. Emotional. We see a lot of death. Sometimes the patients have to be awake, and we rely on the scrub nurses to keep them calm. We only cut when we have to—more so than any other specialty—but that means it’s almost always dire when we hit the OR. But it also means that it can be the most rewarding discipline.”

Jessica nodded slowly, hesitantly. “I know.”

Billie offered Jessica an understanding look. “And, back to cardiothoracic, A.J. is… well… A.J.,” Billie said with a shrug.

“No, thank you,” Jessica murmured. As the others stifled laughter, she added, “He’s wonderful. Outside the OR. Inside he’s… frustrating.”

“That was so very diplomatic,” Billie said, with approval. “Well done.”

Conrad laughed and slung an arm over her shoulders. He squeezed her close and kissed her hair before letting go.

“That covers most of our rockstars,” Billie said, slightly flustered from the public display of affection—as well as the sappy looks they were receiving from the rest of the table. “But, most importantly, you still have three weeks. Take it. There is no wrong decision here, which makes it harder.”

Jessica smiled, eyes studying Billie for a while. “Thanks, Dr. Sutton.”

“What is it?” Billie asked, curious at the searching look on Jessica’s face.

Billie followed Jessica’s eyes as they flew back to Kit and Bell, wondering what she was missing in this conversation. There was clearly some sort of subtext floating around that Billie wasn’t privy to.

But she was surprised to find the older couple watching Billie herself. Randolph was leaning forward, elbows on the table, fingers laced together, with a small, almost sad smile on his face. Kit had slipped an arm through his and was resting her chin on his shoulder, silent support.

“We can talk about it on Monday,” Jessica said quietly.

And Billie, always aware of and respectful of boundaries, nodded. “Whenever you’d like. My door is always open.”

~*~

Later—after the sun had set, and the music had started, and the tables had been cleared away quietly in the background—Billie tilted her head to the side, fingers fiddling with the delicate necklace she wore every day. Her eyes were glued to Devon and Leela where they swayed on the dancefloor, foreheads pressed together. Leela’s hands rested against Devon’s chest, and his were locked together at the small of her back.

That’s love, she thought, a soft smile on her lips.

Devon and Leela moved out of Billie’s line of sight, other couples filling in the gap. Irving and Jessica talked softly together. Kit and Bell were laughing—because they were always laughing—and Jake and Gregg were kissing gently. Even Padma and A.J. had each brought a twin to the dancefloor, swaying them gently to sleep. There were other couples, strangers, but Billie only had eyes for her friends.

Friends, she thought with a wistfulness that made her throat clench.

Billie had never had many friends. It had been a choice—one that she had believed for a very long time to be the best option. But even Billie had to admit that it had been a lonely one.

After the rape, she had pushed everyone away, erecting walls to keep herself safe through isolation. She had spent high school dedicating the majority of her time to studying, packing in as many AP and honors courses as she had been able to convince the guidance counselor to allow, desperate for a full ride. In her limited free time, she had also volunteered as a candy striper at the local community hospital as soon as she had been of legal age to do so—and had nearly been fired for her attitude within the week. Fortunately, the nurses had loved her because Billie had been efficient and capable and never said no to any task. She had proven herself invaluable. And, so, she had stayed all through high school.

She had, essentially, ensured she had been too busy for friends.

Over the years, after they had reconnected, whenever Nic had pushed Billie to open herself up to people, Billie had resisted, saying that one real, true friend was all she needed. Nic had always been enough. But the reality had been that the only person in the world Billie had trusted was Nicolette Nevin.

Until Conrad. But he was a whole other, complicated story with many a twist and false ending.

But, that night, she looked around a beautiful, warm, burnished red tent filled with people she loved and couldn’t finish counting all of her friends on two hands. She tried to blame Conrad, to tell herself that she was accepted because he had drawn her into the folds of his life. But that simply wasn’t true.

Kit had become one of Billie’s favorite people, thanks to her giant heart and butt-kicking swagger. They went for drinks at least once a week, just the two of them, to vent and dish and laugh. Billie and Kit had taken Gigi on a spa day a few weeks before. It had been one of the best days of Billie’s life. Hands down. Full stop.

Aside from Leela and Devon, Kit and Bell had become one of Billie and Conrad’s favorite couple friends, joining them for dinner a few times a month, sometimes with and sometimes without Gigi. They even dragged Jake, Gregg, and Sammie along if they were in town, which they were more and more often in recent times.

Billie and A.J. were solid. He had become like an old brother, despite the fact that she was technically his boss. Because when A.J. loved, he did it with the whole-hearted commitment he did everything he was passionate about, and, so, Billie had never doubted his support and fondness. A.J. even trusted her to watch Arjun and Elijah—and he had fired three nannies already over small transgressions like not using the candy thermometer to check the milk—having dubbed her Super Auntie Billie to the boys.

She and Jake had bonded over a mutual love of their little ladies, as well as jazz, Billie’s secret obsession with romantic comedies, and the difficult fight they had both faced as brilliant young surgeons of color in fields that were still aggressively and predominantly white. Gregg had come along for the ride in that friendship, but he and Billie texted every so often, usually when they had made a parenting blunder, or one of the girls had said something so embarrassing it was hilarious.

Billie had a feeling she might be winning Jessica over, too, if their recent conversations were any clue there. And Conrad had laughingly told Billie that Irving had been her loudest supporter in the emergency room, rooting for Billie and Conrad to face up to their connection long before Conrad had known that Billie had feelings for him.

Even she and Cade were finding common ground. And that presented its own challenges, but they were navigating—

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched, blood curdling shriek that filled the tent: “Aunt Billie!”

Several people jumped or grabbed at their chests in Billie’s peripheral vision as she frantically spun in a circle, trying to find Gigi. She spotted her goddaughter standing with Sammie—who looked absolutely scandalized—off to one side of the tent. Billie was relieved to see that Gigi looked completely and totally fine and whole and unscathed.

Still, Billie hurried over, reaching Gigi and Sammie right as Conrad came up from the other direction. They met each other’s eyes—the last vestiges of panicking lingering in both pairs—just as they both reached for Gigi, who slid a hand into each of theirs. Billie resisted the urge to run her fingers over the little girl to look for damage, despite her eyes telling her that Gigi was fine.

“Sammie is going to be in another wedding,” Gigi said to her father and Billie without preamble, stressing every word like it was gospel.

Conrad’s lips thinned as he tried to smile at his daughter. “Bubble, what did we tell you about indoor voices?”

“But we’re outside,” Gigi said.

Technically, that was true, and Conrad floundered for a moment.

Billie took a swing. “Remember the checklist?”

“Of course,” Gigi said, sounding impatient. “Is there fire? Is there blood? Is it an emergency? This was really, really urgent.”

Sammie hid a giggle behind her hand.

“At least you thought it through,” Billie said, trying to give Conrad an encouraging look.

She’s trying, she said with her eyes.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. Uh-huh.

They both turned back at Gigi and Sammie as conversations resumed around them. “Another wedding,” Billie said to Sammie, mentally catching up. “That’s so exciting.”

Sammie grinned at them.

“She’s not even going to be a flower girl this time!”

“Inside voice, Bubble,” Conrad murmured.

Gigi’s brow furrowed as she looked at the tent again.

Billie asked, “Did they decide to make you a junior bridesmaid?”

Sammie and Gigi looked at her in awe. “You’ve heard of it?” Gigi asked.

Billie heard Conrad stifling a chuckle. “Of course,” she said, with the appropriate reverence. “It’s a really important job. Congratulations, Sammie.”

Sammie blushed, looking shyly at the ground.

“I wanna be a junior bridesmaid,” Gigi said, her voice dangerously close to a whine. Then she lit up and turned back to Sammie. “I bet your dress is going to be amazing. You’ll look so beautiful. Can we go?”

“We can’t invite ourselves to a wedding, sweetie,” Billie said.

Gigi’s face fell.

“I’ll send you pictures,” Sammie promised.

“Can we help her pick it out, Billie?” Gigi asked. “Please?”

For Devon and Leela’s wedding, Billie had been tasked with taking the girls shopping for another round of flower girl dresses. This time, both Kit and Leela had tagged along. All the women had agreed it was far more satisfying than buying dresses for themselves.

“Sweetie, she’s probably not going to get to pick it out this time,” Billie told Gigi gently. “Bridesmaid dresses are usually chosen by the bride.”

“But Aunt Leela came with us this time.” Gigi pouted. “And she was the bride. We still picked them.”

“Before we get too far ahead of ourselves, let’s not forget that this wedding isn’t over yet,” Conrad said, with faux sternness. “And your flower girl duties have not yet ended.”

The little girls giggled, and warmth pooled in Billie’s chest.

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to get out on that dancefloor,” Conrad ordered.

The girls cheered and ran off. Their tulle skirts bounced around them, and the crowd parted to let them through.

“Well, that was easy,” Conrad said, watching them go.

“Seriously,” Billie said.

After a moment, Conrad asked, “Was that too easy?”

“Probably,” Billie admitted. “Gigi’s going to bring up those dresses again, I can feel it.”

“Who knew I would have a fashionista for a daughter,” Conrad muttered. “She’s going to need a bigger closet.”

“Says the guy who has more jewelry than I do,” Billie teased.

Conrad’s head whipped around to her. “I don’t have that many accessories,” he said on a laugh.

She smirked. “You have never met a leather cuff you didn’t like.”

“Hey.”

“Aunt Billie,” the DJ said over the speakers. “You are needed on the dancefloor.”

Titters of laughter spread through the crowd. Billie felt her cheeks heat, but she cleared her throat and looked out over the groups of dancers. She spotted Gigi and Sammie near the DJ booth. The girls waved, beckoning her to join them.

Before she could take a step, an arm slid around her waist. She leaned back against Conrad’s chest, and he pressed their cheeks together.

“You’re not coming?” she asked.

“You go ahead,” he said. “I need to talk to Kit.”

But he didn’t let go, and she felt her smile widen. “You know,” she murmured. “Gigi asked if she could spend the night at the hotel with Sammie.”

“Really?” Conrad murmured back. “That is a very interesting idea.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’ll go talk to Jake,” Conrad said, kissing her cheek.

“I thought you needed to talk to Kit,” she pointed out.

“Priorities. Jake then Kit.”

~*~

A little over a week later, Billie stepped off the elevator and into the emergency department, looking around with a concerned frown. She had been paged, but there had been no details or patient information.

As usual, the ED was a flurry of activity. She saw Conrad’s blond head through the sliding glass door of one of the trauma bays. A.J. and James were both with him, likely still answering each other’s pages whenever they managed to intercept a summons, as they continued to compete for the small set of cases in which their expertise overlapped. Cade was in another bay, speaking softly to a patient. No one looked like they were waiting for her to arrive.

Billie narrowed her eyes as she looked around, unsure where she was supposed to go. Then a curtain flung back, and Irving walked towards the central desk, pulling off his gloves. Billie made a beeline for him.

“Hey,” she said, as they both reached the desk. “I was asked to come down.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, good morning to you, too,” he said, but he didn’t sound particularly bothered. “I don’t know who paged you. Let me check.” He started to type into one of the computers and frowned. “I don’t see anything about a neuro consult in here.”

“Sorry!” Billie heard behind them. She turned to see Jessica hurrying towards the desk.

“That was me,” Jessica said. “The page. Sorry.”

Billie turned to her as Irving gaped at his wife. “That’s all right. What can I do for you?”

“Everything okay?” Cade asked as she came out of one of the trauma bays and spotted Billie. Cade glanced around with a deep frown, clearly trying to figure out which of the patients needed a neurosurgeon. “Did we page you?”

“I did,” Jessica said.

“You did,” Cade repeated in surprise.

“I made my decision,” Jessica said.

“Already,” Billie said, surprised. “You still have two weeks.”

“I know,” Jessica said.

“Decision?” Cade asked. Then her face cleared. “Oh, about the surgeons.”

“You heard about that?” Irving asked. Then he shook his head. “Why am I surprised?”

“Everybody heard,” Cade said, grabbing a new chart out of the intake box. “At least three people told me about it.”

“Billie practically held up a boombox outside Jessica’s window,” Hundley added as she walked past.

Cade laughed lightly and flipped open the chart to scan it. In the quiet as Cade read and Hundley sauntered over to her next patient, Billie turned back to Jessica.

“Would you like to go somewhere private?”

“No,” Jessica said. “This is fine.”

From behind Billie, she heard, “Did I miss it?” and turned to find Bell and Kit walking into the department.

Billie’s jaw dropped open. She had known Bell felt especially close to Jessica, but she thought this was a bit unnecessary.

“I already know her decision,” he told Billie with a smile. “Funny thing is, she hadn’t thought it was an option. I told her it was.”

“You always have to take the credit,” Kit said, with a fond smile.

“Not always,” Bell said to her. “And hush. I’m listening.”

Kit snorted.

Billie frowned. “Didn’t think what was an option?”

One of the trauma bays slid open, drawing Billie’s eyes as Conrad, James, and A.J. filed out of the room. Conrad spotted the small crowd at the central desk and walked over with a hesitant expression.

“What’s going on, everybody?”

“Jessica made her decision,” Irving said. “And a small army of surgeons has descended on my ED.”

“Your ED?” Cade repeated, lightly but firmly.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Irving said, not sounding sorry at all. “I out tenure you.”

“Fair enough,” Cade said.

“I’m not sure that’s a verb,” Kit murmured to herself.

“I have no idea,” Billie said to Conrad, answering his original question. “Kit and Bell came out of nowhere.”

“We asked to be here when she told you,” Kit said.

“Told me what?” Billie asked, prompting everyone gently.

Jessica looked nervous. “I thought about what you said at the wedding. And I really appreciate all of your advice.”

“Happy to give it,” Billie said.

She could feel the entire ED watching them. Again. She could feel James and A.J. edging closer, and she suspected they were each trying to put themselves in Jessica’s line of sight.

“Do you remember two months ago?” Jessica asked suddenly. “You were debulking a tumor on an eight-year-old girl, and I scrubbed in with you.”

“Leilani Cartwright,” Billie said immediately. “Of course. That was a hard surgery.”

“But successful,” Jessica reminded her.

Billie smiled, feeling triumphant all over again. “Her prognosis is good,” Billie said. “I spoke with her oncologist last week. It looks like the radiation is shrinking what we had to leave behind.”

“That’s great,” Jessica said, in a rush. “But what I meant was… do you remember what we listened to?”

Billie’s smile turned rueful. “The Moana soundtrack.”

“For four hours,” Jessica said, pointedly.

Confused, Billie nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Because you had asked Leilani what her favorite songs were, and she said Moana.”

Billie blinked. “Studies show that some patients are still able to hear what’s happening around them, even with general anesthesia. We think it might be more prevalent in children because of how elastic their brains still are.”

“So, you always ask the patients what they want to listen to,” Jessica said.

“I didn’t know you did that,” James murmured.

“That’s smart,” A.J. said, thoughtful.

Billie looked around the crowd, confused. “If they can hear, I want it to be something they find comforting.”

Jessica nodded. “You’re the most brilliant surgeon we have on staff.”

“Hey now,” A.J. said.

“And you’re lovely to assist,” Jessica said to Billie, ignoring him. “And, as the chief, you’re able to scrub in on any surgery in the hospital that you want. You’re even required to during probationary periods or if we grant guest privileges to a surgeon.”

Billie was very aware that she was an incredibly intelligent person. And she felt very stupid in that moment for not realizing where Jessica had been going with all of this sooner. The looks exchanged with Bell while Billie had given her advice. The eagerness on Kit’s face. Irving’s supportive touches. It all made sense now.

“I want to work with a surgeon who cares enough to ask a patient what their favorite song is,” Jessica said sweetly. “Just in case.”

“I see,” Billie murmured. “And you’re sure?”

Jessica nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

“Like that was ever a question,” Billie said, brusque. “We’ll have to meet with your supervisor to make it official. But welcome to the team.”

James stepped forward with his lady-killer smile firmly in place. “Now Jessica—”

“It’s over, James,” Cade said, in her usual blunt way. “Let it go.”

James sighed, but his eyes danced as he nodded in concession at Billie. “I suppose the best surgeon won.”

Billie raised an eyebrow at him. She opened her mouth to remind him that Jessica’s career was not a competition. But A.J. stepped forward with a generous expression.

“I support this,” A.J. said, as if he hadn’t been hoping Jessica would choose him at all. “I think this is the best possible outcome.”

“As do I,” James said.

“Says the man who bought her a spa package,” A.J. muttered.

“Didn’t you offer to upgrade her car?” James asked.

The men exchanged tense looks. Then they both forced laughs as they turned back to Conrad, who watched them with an openly amused expression.

“About my patient—” A.J. began.

“Our patient,” James said smoothly.

“You two are enough to give aspirin a headache,” Conrad said. “I don’t know how Billie puts up with you.”

“You have no idea,” Billie said, dry.

Irving turned to Jessica. “He was going to upgrade our car?”

“Oh, Irving,” Jessica said, rolling her eyes. But, as the crowd wandered away, Jessica smiled excitedly. “I’m going to go add myself to your schedule.”

“Sounds good,” Billie said, but Jessica was already rushing away.

Kit and Bell followed as Billie strolled from the ED. “You really didn’t know?” Kit asked.

“I had no idea,” Billie admitted.

In her mind, Jessica still only saw Billie as the fifth-year resident who had destroyed someone’s life in her own arrogance. It had never occurred to her that Jessica would ever see past that, even with all the promotions and honors and accolades Billie had earned in the meantime.

Bell put a hand on Billie’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re the best chief we’ve ever had here at Chastain,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you.”

Billie’s chin came up as she shoved down the emotions. “Thank you, Randolph.”

Kit reached out and hugged Billie without a word. Then she slipped her arm through Bell’s and led him away.

Billie watched them go, sliding her hands into the pockets of her white coat. When someone touched the back of her arm just above the elbow, she knew without looking that it was Conrad.

“Congratulations,” he said, keeping his voice down in the busy hallway.

She didn’t know why he bothered. Everyone knew they were dating. Apparently, there had been a betting pool on it, even throughout his relationship with Cade. She thought that was a bit disrespectful, but mostly she was just glad A.J. hadn’t won the pot. He never would have let her hear the end of it.

“It’s nice,” Conrad said.

“What is?” she asked, finally looking at him.

“Seeing you get all this love.” Crinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “You deserve all the love in the entire world.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” Billie said.

“What?” Conrad asked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She shrugged with a small smile, feeling peaceful inside. “Having friends.”

Something flashed across Conrad’s face, too quick for Billie to catch it. But his eyes darkened as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her.

“Billie Damn Sutton,” he whispered.

She pulled back slightly to look at his face, laughing a little. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, and kissed her.

#the resident #billie sutton #fanfic #conrad hawkins #conrad x billie #billie x conrad #gigi hawkins #sammie wong #kit voss #randolph bell #kitbell #kit x randolph #jessica x irving

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