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CHAPTER 15

T he A&E waiting room at Royal London Hospital buzzed with typical Friday night chaos - drunk university students nursing various injuries, a man with a towel wrapped around his head, and an elderly woman with her worried daughter. Sebastian guided Tessa to two plastic chairs in a quieter corner, his hand warm and steady at the small of her back.

“Right then, love,” the triage nurse had said after a quick assessment, “nasty cut but nothing urgent. You’ll be waiting about two hours, I’m afraid. Friday nights, you know.”

Now they sat side by side, Tessa cradling her bandaged hand while Sebastian studied the controlled chaos around them with fascination.

“Not quite what you’re used to, I imagine,” Tessa said, noticing his expression.

“Actually, it’s impressive,” Sebastian replied, watching the efficient way staff managed the mayhem. “I’ve never been in an NHS hospital before.”

“Private healthcare spoils you, does it?”

“Something like that.” He turned to study her face in the harsh fluorescent lighting. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable.” Tessa flexed her fingers experimentally and winced. “Though I suspect Will didn’t intend for the glass to actually cut me. He was just having a tantrum.”

“A tantrum that hurt you,” Sebastian said, his voice carrying that edge of protective anger again. “That’s unacceptable, regardless of his intentions.”

The warmth in his tone when he defended her made something flutter in her chest. She’d been looking after herself for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone genuinely concerned about her wellbeing.

“You really didn’t have to stay,” she said softly. “This could take hours.”

Sebastian shifted in his plastic chair to face her more fully. “Where else would I be?”

The simple question hung between them, weighted with meaning neither of them wanted to examine too closely. Tessa found herself studying his profile - the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair had gotten slightly mussed from the rain, the expensive cut of his coat that looked incongruous in the NHS waiting room.

“Why did you really come by the pub tonight?” she asked, surprised by her own boldness. “And don’t say you were just driving by.”

Sebastian was quiet for a long moment, his thumb absently tracing the edge of his phone. “I was driving by,” he said finally. “But I’d been thinking about you all day. About our research, about Will, about...” He met her eyes. “About you. I saw your lights still on and I thought maybe you’d want company.”

“Just company?”

“Maybe more than company,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “I wanted to see you, Tessa. I’ve been wanting to see you quite a lot lately.”

The honest confession sent warmth spreading through her chest. Around them, the hospital continued its late-night rhythm - staff calling names, the squeak of trolley wheels, someone’s mobile ringing - but it all faded into background noise.

“I’m glad you came,” she said, meaning it completely.

Sebastian’s hand found hers on the plastic chair armrest, his fingers threading gently through hers, careful to avoid her injury. “So am I.”

They sat like that for a while, hands loosely joined, watching the controlled chaos of Friday night A&E. Tessa felt herself relaxing despite the uncomfortable chairs and the antiseptic smell. There was something surprisingly peaceful about this moment - just the two of them, no ghosts, no business conflicts, no expectations.

“Sebastian?” she said after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For staying. For...” She gestured vaguely with her free hand. “For being here.”

He squeezed her fingers gently. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I’m not used to someone taking care of me,” she admitted.

“I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to do everything alone, you know. Not anymore.”

The words hit her harder than she expected. Not because they were dramatic or overwhelming, but because they were quietly, simply true. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel like she was facing everything by herself.

When exhaustion finally caught up with her around two AM, Tessa found her head drooping toward Sebastian’s shoulder. She was too tired to be embarrassed when he shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, his hand coming up to gently stroke her hair.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’ll wake you when they call your name.”

Half-asleep against his shoulder, surrounded by the warmth of his coat and the steady rhythm of his breathing, Tessa realized something that should have terrified her but somehow didn’t: this felt like home.

“Tessa Lawson?” The doctor’s voice cut through her drowsy haze sometime later.

Sebastian’s hand was gentle on her shoulder, rousing her carefully. “Time to get you fixed up.”

The actual medical care was quick and efficient - a thorough cleaning, eight neat stitches, and stern instructions about keeping the wound dry. Sebastian stayed close throughout, his presence calm and reassuring without being overbearing.

“Right then,” the doctor said, snapping off her gloves, “keep it clean and dry for the next week. Come back if you notice any signs of infection. You’ll want to have those stitches removed in about ten days.”

Outside the hospital, London had settled into its quietest hours. The streets were nearly empty except for the occasional night bus and a few determined party-goers making their way home. The air was crisp and clean after the earlier rain, carrying the scent of wet pavement and autumn leaves.

“Come on,” Sebastian said, his hand finding the small of her back again as he guided her toward his car. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive through empty London streets felt intimate and strange. Traffic lights blinked from red to green for no one but them, and the city’s usual chaos had given way to peaceful quiet. Tessa found herself stealing glances at Sebastian’s profile in the dashboard light, still not quite believing he’d spent his entire Friday night in an NHS waiting room for her.

“You know,” she said as they turned onto her street, “I can’t remember the last time someone stayed with me through something like this.”

“Well,” Sebastian said, pulling up outside her building, “you’ll have to get used to it.”

The casual certainty in his voice made her heart skip. He said it like it was a given, like of course he’d be there for whatever came next.

Her flat keys proved tricky with one hand, and Sebastian stepped close to help, his fingers covering hers as he guided the key into the lock. For a moment they stood there, his chest nearly touching her back, both of them acutely aware of the intimacy of the gesture.

“There,” he said softly, his breath warm against her ear as the door clicked open.

Tessa turned in the small space between him and the door, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. In the dim light from the hallway, she could see the concern still lingering in his grey eyes, the gentle set of his mouth.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he said, but he made no move to step back.

“Should,” she agreed, but she didn’t move either.

They stood there for a heartbeat longer, the weight of the evening - the injury, the hospital, the quiet intimacy they’d shared - settling between them like a bridge finally built.

“Sebastian,” she said softly.

“Yes?”

Before she could lose her nerve, Tessa rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, soft and brief and full of gratitude and something deeper she wasn’t ready to name.

When they broke apart, Sebastian’s hands gripped her waist, his fingers pressing into her with an intensity that made her breath catch. She could feel the emotion radiating from him—raw, desperate, barely contained. His forehead dropped to rest against hers, and she felt the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breathing had gone unsteady.

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to?—“

“I want to,” he said simply. “I want to check on you, I want to make sure you’re healing properly, I want to bring you terrible tea and listen to you complain about having to keep your stitches dry. I want all of it, Tessa.”

The quiet intensity in his voice made her breath catch. This wasn’t a grand declaration or dramatic rescue - it was something steadier, more real. The promise of someone who would show up, who would stay, who would care about the small inconveniences as much as the big emergencies.

“Okay,” she whispered, surprising herself with how easily the word came.

“Okay,” he echoed, pressing one more gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping back.

As Tessa watched him walk back to his car, her bandaged hand throbbing pleasantly with the painkillers, she realized that for the first time in years, she was looking forward to tomorrow. Not because of any grand plans or dramatic events, but because Sebastian had promised to check on her, and she believed him.

Sometimes the most romantic thing wasn’t a passionate kiss or dramatic rescue. Sometimes it was simply knowing that someone would show up, would stay, would care enough to spend their Friday night in an NHS waiting room just to make sure you were okay.

And as she finally closed her door and got ready for bed, Tessa found herself smiling despite the pain in her hand, despite Will’s tantrum, despite everything.

Because for the first time in a very long time, she wasn’t facing tomorrow alone.