Medical Center. Hospital Room.
Shorty came back quick.
Since it was time for a proper checkup, it made sense to go with a female doctor.
After handing them off, Shorty returned.
"Melendez, you're in charge of Ms. Boyd," Adam said. He'd just finished patching up Brooke and passed the bedside duties to Shorty with a few instructions before heading out.
Out of the four interns, Adam trusted Shorty the most right now. For a case with some personal vibes, Shorty was the obvious pick.
"How's she doing?"
The second Adam stepped into Phoebe's room, Rachel pounced with the question, all nerves. Everyone else turned to look too.
"Intracranial bleeding," Adam said, shooting a sideways glance at Phoebe, who was sneaking a peek at him. "But lucky for her, we caught it early. It's not a lot, so it shouldn't be a big deal. No criminal charges either—some people should be thanking their stars. That was one vicious hit."
"Psh, whatever!"
Phoebe, the tough big sis, shrugged it off. "That was nothing! I wasn't even trying. If I'd gone all out, she wouldn't have had the energy to keep fighting me."
"Oh, right, I forgot," Adam said with a nod, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Even if you landed in jail, you'd be ruling the place—one hand on each pretty girl's ear, making them scream, 'We're your bitches!' You're the queen bee, huh? No biggie for you."
"Darn right," Phoebe said, puffing up proudly, totally missing Adam's jab.
Rachel, meanwhile, rubbed her ear with a blank stare.
She was flashing back to that time she and Monica got into it. Phoebe, stuck in the middle, couldn't calm them down—so she just yelled, "Big sis is stepping in!" Then she grabbed Monica's ear with one hand, Rachel's with the other, and yanked until they were both yelping, "Ow, ow!" That ended the fight real quick.
Back then, Phoebe had grinned and said, "If this were prison, you'd both be my bitches…"
Emmm.
Don't ask why Phoebe's so good at that.
Sad childhood, that's all you need to know!
Plus, Phoebe's wild.
Take that time she mugged little Ross as a kid. It only came up years later because Ross and Phoebe were walking together when some guy tried to rob them. Ross handed over his wallet like it was nothing, even squealing when Phoebe hesitated—terrified the guy might shoot him if he got mad.
Turns out the robber was Phoebe's old buddy.
But Phoebe didn't know that at the time.
The dude said he had a gun, and Phoebe didn't even flinch. She was so chill it freaked Ross out—he thought she was about to throw hands and kept begging her, "No, no, no!"
This is New York, people! Crime-central New York!
They were facing a guy bold enough to rob them in broad daylight, claiming he was armed. If Phoebe weren't a legit "live or die, I don't care" tough chick, how could she pull off that vibe? 😳
"Try toning it down next time," Adam said with a helpless sigh. "Sure, you're not scared of jail, but you're not solo anymore. You want Mike sitting at home alone, waiting for you?"
Emmm.
Back when Mike was "Ant-Man," he got out of jail to find his wife and daughter shacked up with some other guy.
If Phoebe ended up behind bars and came out to see Mike with a new family, would she go full big-sis mode and squash "Ant-Man" Mike flat?
"Phoebe!"
Mike gave her the saddest puppy-dog eyes.
This time, her reckless chaos—and almost accidentally killing someone and going to jail for it—really shook him.
"…Fine," Phoebe caved. "I'll watch it from now on. Honestly, ever since I started hanging with you guys, I've chilled out. This time, she just pissed me off too much. Even then, I held back…"
"Then keep holding back—for us, for Mike," Adam said. "You got lucky this time, but next time? No guarantees. If you really want a dream wedding, just tell me. You're our friend—what's a little help between pals?"
"Nah, we're good," Phoebe shot back instantly. "We wanna do this ourselves. Otherwise, Mike's family's loaded—why would we need your cash?"
"Yeah!" Mike jumped in. "We just wanna make it on our own. Like Phoebe said, my parents'll kick the bucket eventually anyway~"
His folks live in a fancy three-story penthouse on Park Avenue in the Upper East Side, complete with servants.
"Heh."
Adam's mouth twitched. He knew Mike had that Chandler-style self-deprecating humor, but he still warned, "Better not let your parents hear that. Either you won't live to see that day, or Phoebe won't."
Parents like that have a trump card: if the main kid's a bust, they'll just start over with a new one.
They've got the cash—easy peasy.
So even if Mike's an only child and the top heir, if he ticks off his parents enough to get cut from the will? He's screwed.
Emmm.
Sure, he doesn't mooch now, living off his piano gigs. But that's only because he's still in the mansion, with servants handling the big expenses. That lets him play the "I'll live off my passion" card.
Piano money's nice when it comes.
No gigs? No sweat.
Worst case, he'd just go back and inherit the billions, right?
But if he's booted from the inheritance, with no safety net, living off piano gigs wouldn't be so "chill" anymore.
"Ha, ha."
Mike laughed awkwardly.
Seeing the air clear, Adam started giving Phoebe another once-over to check Carrie's work.
Carrie's solid, but not Adam solid. Phoebe's a friend—he had to make sure.
Good news: he was impressed. Carrie didn't snag that chief resident spot by luck.
"Got a date set yet?" Adam asked casually.
"Not yet," Phoebe said. "I'm debating whether to wait 'til Monica has her baby."
"Hm, if you're not in a rush, waiting's smart," Adam replied. "Monica's on her first kid, and this one's been a long time coming. Six weeks 'til her due date—she shouldn't be at stuff like this right now."
"Yeah," Phoebe nodded. "That's what I figured. No way my wedding's happening without Monica!"
"Push it back a bit—ten weeks at least," Adam said, doing the math. "By then, Monica might even be your wedding director."
"What?!" Phoebe gasped. "Now I'm thinking I should just get married ASAP!"
"Haha!"
Everyone cracked up.
Phoebe's reaction was classic—because they all knew Monica's OCD would take over. If she ran the show, it'd be her wedding, not Phoebe's.
Everything would follow Monica's rules. Even the bride wouldn't get a say!
"Your injuries need time too—ten weeks minimum," Adam said with a grin. "And Monica directing your wedding? It's not that bad. You think planning a wedding's as easy as it looks?
Without Monica's obsessive passion, you'd be the one losing it. You'd probably ditch the whole thing before dealing with all that hassle."
"For real?" Phoebe squinted, skeptical. "Monica and Rachel's weddings seemed simple enough."
"…"
Everyone went quiet, all eyes on Adam.
Where's the peaceful life? It's just someone else carrying the load for you.
(End of Chapter)