The Playboy Doctor Swore Off Love, Then His Best Friend Claimed Him novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: The Answer

The roof garden of the Park Avenue flagship was bare and brown in December, and forty people in winter coats were standing in it.

Damon stood in the middle of the frozen planters in his charcoal overcoat, with his hands in his pockets, and did not look at the stairwell door.

Two nights ago he had put a taped box in Elias's hand and told him not to open it in the dark.

This morning he had texted: Noon. Roof. Lunch. Wear the grey.

There was no lunch.

There were nurses in puffy jackets, and anesthesiologists in beanies, and a resident Elias recognized holding a paper cup in both hands.

Moira Doyle stood at the front with her arms folded and her chin up.

The stairwell door opened, and Elias stopped in it, in the grey, and Damon grinned.

"I said daylight," Damon called.

Elias walked toward him over the flagstones.

Every face turned.

Damon had watched him cross rooms for ten years, and had never seen him look unsure of the floor.

He stopped an arm's length away.

"You've told the OR," he said.

"I've told the OR. The whole of the fourth floor. Moira bought a cake."

"It's a sheet cake," Moira said. "It's in the stairwell. Don't make a fuss."

Damon took his hand out of his pocket, and held it palm up.

"Open it," he said.

Elias took out the box.

He tore the masking tape with his thumbnail, and the velvet lid sprang up in the cold air.

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