The Doctor’s Simple Life (Love Heals All Wounds #3)

7. Reece

CHAPTER 7

REECE

I can’t think of anything else to say to Sienna, so I head back across the living room to Mrs. Hale. I sit down on the sofa beside her and give her my very best charming smile. I don’t know what it is about Sienna’s grandmother, but I take an immediate shine to her.

I usually find old people tedious, but I guess knowing that this woman is a part of Sienna helps me feel connected to her.

“You’re still doing good, Mrs. Hale?”

She pats my thigh. “Much better now, all thanks to you, young man.”

“I’m just doing my job,” I say with a grin. It isn’t lost on me that Mrs. Hale and Sienna both share a look, one where Mrs. Hale seems to be insinuating something, and Sienna seems to be trying to deny it.

“It’s a good sign that you’re so alert. Sometimes it takes people up to an hour to feel like their old selves again.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” says Mrs. Hale, puffing out her chest a little.

I can’t help but chuckle at that. If there was one word I would never pick to describe this woman, it would be frail. “I’m sure you are. But in any case, this week, you’ll want to keep yourself nice and hydrated. Make sure you eat well. Try to do a little exercise, if you can. Just basic stuff, really, nothing too strenuous. And just in case, if you can avoid flashing lights, that would be perfect. I don’t think photosensitivity is your issue, but we’re best avoiding anything that could cause this to happen again.”

“You’ve been very good, young man. I’m good as new.” She pats my knee again, and I feel a warm rush of something that I think is pride or possibly satisfaction.

I’d almost forgotten what this felt like. To really help people.

I like my job as it is. Plastic surgery is what I’ve specialized in, and I’m damn good at it. But I haven’t felt like this in years, like I was actually doing good. Wasn’t that why I became a doctor in the first place? To try and do some good?

These days, patients come to me because they know I’m the best. They tell me what they want, then leave again. I hardly ever do follow-ups. I never do home visits.

Most of my stuff is cosmetic, anyway. And I’m sure people are happy with what I give them. In fact, I know they are. It helps them become a person closer to who they see in their head. For some people, that is life changing.

But for me…

This is a stupid line of thought. It’s not like I’m going to run off to a small town and become some backwoods doctor. Think about my salary! I wouldn’t want to lose that. I have a life that I’m used to, and I like it just the way it is.

“You know, I wish Sienna would bring home nice young men like you more often,” says Mrs. Hale with a wink.

Sienna splutters something incomprehensible in protest and marches back across the room to glare at her grandmother. I swallow the smile that wants to spread across my face.

“That’s good of you to say, Mrs. Hale,” I say, glancing at Sienna to catch her eye. “I’m not sure that everyone would agree.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been nothing but an angel this evening.”

I scoff at that, but Mrs. Hale doubles down. “Are you married? I don’t see a ring on that finger.”

“Gramma,” warms Sienna, her voice low and stern. It’s a voice I’ve seen her use on patients many times. It’s the kind of voice that commands authority among older people who want to think they’re always right when they’re clearly not.

But Gramma Hale is clearly immune to Sienna’s strict voice. She blinks wide in mock innocence and says, “What, honey? I’m just asking.” Then she turns back to me and says, “I know we live in a modern age — and don’t misunderstand me because I couldn’t be more proud of my little girl — but I still hope to see her marry one day.”

“Do you?” I raise an eyebrow at Sienna.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure she’ll find a handsome somebody to look after.”

“Not someone to look after her?” I ask.

Mrs. Hale fixes me with the kind of look that tells me not to make assumptions. Immediately, a blush of shame floods across my face.

“I know you all think in the city that us country folk are backward hillbillies, but let me promise you this. We all love our kids as much as any city folk, and I know my Sienna. Any man or person in her life will have to fight hard to be allowed to look after her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’ll be too busy looking after you, dummy.”

“Okay, all right,” Sienna interrupts. “If we’re done talking about me like I’m not here.”

Mrs. Hale looks up at her and holds her hand out with a smile. Sienna takes it, her icy facade cracking a little under the weight of her grandmother’s expression. “I’m sorry, honey. You know all that’s important to me is your happiness, don’t you?”

Sienna pauses, then sighs, her shoulders relaxing. “Yes, Gramma. Of course I do.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to dream about you bringing home a good man one day too, does it?”

“No,” says Sienna tightly, her lips pressing into a thin smile. “But you know that’s not my priority, don’t you?”

Mrs. Hale nods, and a small twinge of something constricts in my chest. It doesn’t bother me that Sienna isn’t looking for marriage; of course it doesn’t. That’s none of my business.

And for the record, neither am I. I have no interest in a relationship of any kind. But sitting here with Mrs. Hale looking at both of us, I’m starting to wonder what she’s seeing that we’re not. It’s not like there are anything but hard feelings between Sienna and me.

I’m certain Sienna finds me as intolerable as I find her.

So why is Mrs. Hale’s comment affecting me?

“Can I get you anything at all, Dr. Westbrook? A drink, a snack?”

“Gramma, I’ll go. Don’t even dare stand up.”

Mrs. Hale nods deeply. “Ask the young man what he wants, then. I won’t have him speak bad of my hospitality.”

“Nobody has ever done that,” Sienna says with a sigh. She’s clearly tired of having me here. Maybe I should just leave. But as I start to withdraw, I feel Mrs. Hale’s piercing eyes on me.

I can’t leave just yet.

I suppose there’s no harm in staying for a snack. If it’ll make the woman happy, I guess I have to oblige. Maybe this is why I never wanted to do home visits.

Or maybe, just maybe, this is showing me why people do.