My Secret Husband Is My Cold Boss novel Chapter 55

Hearing they were partying with the surgical elite, Riley nearly dropped her phone in shock.

"The second someone mentions a vacation, you lose your mind!"

Dr. Franklin snorted in amusement.

Skipping the democratic process entirely, he declared, "It's settled then. We're going."

Joint retreats between the two departments were common, so absolutely no one objected.

-

Freedom.

No more grueling night shifts.

Wendy had texted Jade days in advance to lock down a celebration dinner.

At exactly five-thirty, Jade's sleek Bentley pulled up flawlessly in front of the outpatient building.

It had been over a year since they'd managed a quiet dinner out, and Jade was aggressively demanding alcohol.

"No drinking," Wendy vetoed immediately.

"I have work tomorrow. I need a clear head."

Jade pouted dramatically. "Babe, you aren't on call anymore! Have a drink with me. Work has been suffocating lately..."

Law and medicine were notoriously brutal professions.

Jade was naturally upbeat; if she admitted to feeling stressed, she was practically drowning.

Wendy softened, offering a compromise. "Next time. Let's get obliterated on my next real day off, okay?"

Knowing how fiercely protective Wendy was of her work, Jade didn't push it.

They ultimately settled for a massive, comforting stew dinner.

"I haven't had this since I got back to the States. I've been dying for it..."

The broth hadn't even boiled yet, but Jade was already aggressively shoving meat into the pot.

"Hey, babe, it's been ages since you went out for a proper meal like this, hasn't it?"

Jade shouldn't have asked.

Because the moment she did...

Wendy suddenly remembered something crucial, frantically digging through her coat pockets for her phone.

Jade blinked in confusion. "Who are you texting in such a panic?"

"Sampson," she replied quickly.

"I totally forgot to tell him I was eating out tonight."

Having just moved into a shared home, she hadn't quite rewired her brain to factor in a husband.

She rapidly typed out a message.

...

Sampson didn't let him finish the joke; he literally kicked him out of the car before he could utter a fourth sentence.

It was well past ten by the time Wendy got home.

On her previous trips, she had exclusively used the underground parking garage.

Standing outside the complex, she spent a solid minute trying to locate their specific windows.

The lights were blazing.

A tall silhouette stood rigidly in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass.

She squinted against the glare.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Sampson: [What are you staring at? Did you forget where you live?]

Caught red-handed, she let out a breath, shoved her phone in her pocket, and headed up.

He was lounging in the living room, reading a book.

She dropped her keys and washed her hands.

Walking out, she immediately noticed several unopened takeout containers on the table. "Were you waiting for me for dinner?"