"My patient's stalking your patient."

"He was a waiter for decades, Alex. He's just being hospitable. And we're his busboys."

Alex and I step into the nurses' station to sign off on the two patients' paperwork.

"Dude gave me fifty bucks to put him next to her." He replies in a matter-of-fact tone. "He's got the hots for her."

"And she's got the hots for her husband, who happens to be in surgery."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're married."

Alex digs into his coat pocket and pulls out the bill the waiter had given him.

"Fifty bucks says he makes a move. You in or out?" He cocks a brow.

"Oh, I am absolutely in. And being married doesn't mean shit." I shake his hand.

"Mrs. Shepherd?"

I look back to see April, standing behind us with a clipboard hugged to her chest. Ever since Derek was placed as interim chief, he'd hired her back.

". . .what did you just call me?"

"M-Mrs. Shepherd."

My brows furrow lightly. "Um, I'm not Mrs. Shepherd. I'm Dr. Phoenix. You know that, don't you, Kepner?"

"Right. Right." She awkwardly nods her head. "Um, Chief Shepherd wanted me to ask you about the trustees' breakfast in the morning. Will you be going with him to the breakfast or meeting him there?"

"I'm actually not sure if I'm going at all."

"What? No, you have to. You're his wife."

"I. . .have to go see my patient now."

Tugging on Alex's sleeve, I pull him away from the redhead and down the hallway. He lets out a belly laugh at the awkward confrontation, and I try not to let my anger take over.

"Do you think she needs an extra blanket? She gets chilled easily."

"She must be one hell of a tipper."

"Sorry?"

"Well, I can see why she comes in every week. I bet you take better care of her than her own husband." Alex steers the conversation towards the topic of our bet.

The aging man looks towards the woman's bed. "When she first started coming in, before they met, we had a little game. She would try anything we served. She was adventurous. . .fearless."

Alex hums lightly.

"When she'd gone through the menu, I challenged the chefs to come up with something new. It became. . .she became my favorite part of the week."

I listen to their conversation, mostly his words.

"Then one night, she came in with him. She felt like this was a safe space for a first date."

His eyes close for a moment.

"That ring on her finger? The night he proposed to her. . .I placed it in the crème brûlée for her to find. I watched her say yes from the kitchen window."

Mr. Flores compares her time in the restaurant before she was married to after she was married. How their marriage has fallen apart before his very eyes.

While he continues to speak, Mrs. Banks opens her eyes in the opposite direction so only I could see that she's awake.

Outside in the main waiting area, Alex forfeits his fifty-dollar bill.

"You win." He huffs in defeat. "He's been staring at her from his kitchen window for fifteen years. He's not gonna tell her now."

"But he did. She'd been awake the entire time and heard everything. She'll have to say something eventually."

"Well, she's not. I mean, her husband's in surgery."

"But they're miserable."

I slap the same bill down into the middle.

"Fifty bucks she tells him that she loves him, too."

"You're on."

As we spy on the two, awaiting Mrs. Banks to tell him she loves him back, her monitor beeps erratically, and she's unable to breathe.

"You're going into surgery now?" Derek turns away from the O.R. board. "There's this, uh, breakfast —"

I clear my throat. "I know about the breakfast. Because the resident you hired back? She's going through my closet as we speak in search of a dress to wear."

"Sorry. She's a little overeager."

"I'm really sorry, but I have surgery."

"And I don't want you to give it up."

"My patient. . .she's somebody's wife, too. And as her doctor, I. . .I have to make sure she gets back to her husband, you know?"

He presses a light kiss to the corner of my lips, letting me leave for the O.R..

The surgery goes well, and we're able to return her to the room where she was with Flores. A few nurses tend to her when I approach her.

"How's my husband?"

"There were a few complications, but Dr. Bailey is still working on him. I'll update you as often as I can if the situation changes."

"Is-Is Emile still here?"

"Emile was taken into surgery earlier. He has some bleeding in his brain."

". . .oh, God."

Her chest rises and falls slowly.

"He never said a word. . .for fifteen years."

"You knew?"

"Why do you think I kept going back there?" She chuckles hoarsely. "But then I met Bob, and Emile never. . .I made a choice."

"You still kept going back to the restaurant?"

"I did. Because Bob liked it. . .and I loved Bob. It became our place. And, yes, he orders for me because he knows what I like. And it may seem like we have nothing left to talk about, but sometimes it's nice not to have to talk."

Her lips curve in a smile.

"Fifteen years ago, I made a choice. And I keep making it every day. That's what marriage is."

Teddy invites me to scrub in to her next surgery — a valve replacement — but I suggest Cristina instead.

With April's impeccable taste and a quick trip to the on-call room, I change into a formal dress and arrive promptly for the breakfast.

"Hey." His polite smile grows eager and wide. "You didn't have to come, Leven."

I shift the clutch to be under my arm while kissing him on the cheek. "I know I didn't have to. But I chose to. Because I'm your wife, you dork."

He cups my cheek in one hand before fastening his arm around my waist.

"Shall we go in?"

"Yes. And I'm only agreeing to this shindig if no one calls me. . ."

And we cross past the posterboard for the breakfast: Trustees Breakfast Honoring, Dr. and Mrs. Shepherd.

Derek drives the pitch black Porsche while I change into my pale blue scrubs for the shift ahead of me, all while screaming about the title.

"Everyone called me Mrs. Shepherd. Mrs. Shepherd!"

"I know, Leven."

"I love you, I really do. But I don't do brunches with strangers, I don't miss surgeries with patients, and I don't do Valentine's Day with. . .well, you."

He looks back at me through the rearview mirror, the hints of a smirk appearing on his face.

"You owe me lots of sex."

"Yes, dear."

"I mean lots and lots of sex, Derek."

"Anything for Mrs. Shepherd."

". . .you owe me a slurpee, too."