Chapter 11
Alexia
Holly's new heart pounds with perfect rhythm as I tie off the final suture. The steady beeping of the monitors creates a soothing symphony in the otherwise silent operating room, and the metallic scent of surgery mingles with the sharp bite of antiseptic in my nose.
Any open-heart surgery feels special, but performing one on a child adds another layer of complexity. Doing it on Christmas Day? That transforms it into something magical — a miracle that science can explain but never fully capture.
“Blood pressure stable. Heart rate optimal,” Miguel announces, his voice muffled behind his surgical mask. “You did it, Alexia. Congratulations.”
“We did it. Thank you, everyone,” I correct him, peeling off my gloves and surgical gown. When I push through the exit doors, Selene is waiting, but something in her expression makes me pause.
“Everything went well,” I breathe out, and before I can process it, she pulls me into a perfect embrace.
“I knew you would succeed. You're incredible, though we might need to explain how we got that heart,” she adds, her voice carrying a hint of worry.
On our way to the locker room, she fills me in about her confrontation with Safira and how she took full responsibility for our unauthorized flight.
“You shouldn't have done that,” I protest, but Selene presses two fingers against my lips, silencing me.
“I'd do it a million times over, consequences be damned,” she replies. “Now come on, you need to clean up. You smell like surgery.”
The locker room is empty when we enter, and Selene settles onto one of the benches, trying to look casual but failing miserably.
“You can wait in the cafeteria if you prefer. I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” I offer.
“If you really want me to leave, I will, but I'd hate to miss the show,” she teases, biting her lower lip as I start undressing.
The hot shower water works wonders on my back muscles, but there's something electrifying about knowing Selene is right there, even if she can't see through the wooden door.
“Let me help,” she whispers, wrapping me in a towel and kissing my forehead as I step out.
She positions herself behind me, gently drying my back and shoulders, her fingers leaving trails of fire wherever they brush against my skin.
“Selene…” my voice quivers when she dries my breasts.
“Let me take care of you,” she whispers in my ear as I lean my head back, her hands wandering lower.
The towel falls forgotten to the floor, replaced by her caresses, her fingers cupping my breasts, tracing their outline with infinite tenderness.
Selene smiles and takes my hand, leading me to one of the benches. She sits me down carefully and kneels between my legs. She kisses my stomach with near-reverence, as if worshiping it, while I thread my fingers through her hair and kiss the top of her head.
Then, she straightens up to kiss my neck, later leaving a trail of fire on my collarbone and throat, making me sigh when she gently bites my chin. And when she moves down to my nipples, each kiss provokes a gasp, a moan, a plea to continue.
I arch my back, feeling her tongue circling my areola, rotating around my hardened nipples, filling the quiet locker room with moans.
Selene moves her hands downward, tracing my hips with her fingertips until reaching my thighs and spreading my legs even wider. She leans in, her warm breath against my skin, and an electric current runs through my entire body the moment I feel her lips on my sex. She licks it slowly, as if discovering a secret treasure, pressing in just the right places, setting a perfect rhythm.
And when her tongue plays with my clit, a wave of pleasure floods me, making me tremble. She stops right when she notices I'm about to reach orgasm, pulls away, locks eyes with me and smiles.
And it kills me with desperation.
“Don't stop,” I protest, pushing her head against my sex.
She returns to my clit, licks it slowly, then quickly, changes rhythm again, makes me scream with pleasure and, too soon, gives me an orgasm that breaks with the force of a gale.
She caresses my thighs softly, kissing my pubis until I catch my breath, and then hugs my waist while I stroke her mane. In silence, together, because in moments like this, words aren't necessary.
“I don't want you to think this was just because of the adrenaline rush from surgery,” I whisper, kissing her forehead after finishing getting dressed.
“I know,” she assures.
“Good.”
“And I won't let you hide behind those walls you build up again,” she reminds me.
“I won't, but I should update Holly's mother on her condition.”
With our fingers intertwined, the walk to the pediatric wing feels different somehow. Some nurses turn to look at us, but I don't pull away, don't bother maintaining professional distance. This is the real Alexia Winters, not the ice queen everyone thinks I am.
“Doctor!” Vivian practically jumps from her chair when she sees me.
“Everything went perfectly,” I assure her. “Of course, there's always potential for post-operative complications, but we'll handle any issues as they arise. If they arise at all.”
“Is my baby okay?” she asks, eyes brimming with tears.
“She's better than okay. The compatibility rate for this heart is exceptionally high. She'll need to stay in the ICU for a few days, but everything points to success.”
“I can't stop thinking about the family who lost their child in that car accident, but thanks to them, my Holly can live. I'll be forever grateful,” she sighs, sinking back into her chair.
“Their decision to donate organs has saved several children's lives,” Selene adds. “Those parents, in their grief, did something truly beautiful.”
Outside, snow continues to fall, but somehow, now that we're back in the hospital and the surgery is over, watching the snowfall feels almost beautiful.
“When can I see her?” Vivian asks, wiping her eyes with her palm.
“If all goes well, we'll extubate her tomorrow, and she might spend New Year's Eve in her regular room,” I tell her, instinctively crossing my fingers, hoping my words come true.
But the joy is short-lived. A nurse appears with a troubled expression, announcing that the hospital board wants to see us both immediately.
I let out a resigned sigh as I say goodbye to Holly's mother. After the surgery's success and what happened in the locker room, I'd almost forgotten about the potential consequences of disobeying hospital protocols.
“Whatever happens, we're in this together,” I say, squeezing Selene's hand before we enter.
“Together,” she repeats, nodding. “Whatever happens, it was worth it,” she assures me.
I take a deep breath as I open the door, but instead of the firing squad I expected, I find a room full of smiling faces. Even Safira looks pleased, which is highly unusual for her.
“Our Christmas miracle team,” the board president announces, raising a champagne flute in our direction.
“You're not angry?” Selene asks, as surprised as I am. “We broke quite a few protocols with an unauthorized flight and…”
“And got the best publicity this hospital has seen in decades,” another board member, a millionaire who I think runs one of the country's top law firms, chimes in. “Don't know how the press found out, but the story's everywhere.”
“Anonymous source, apparently,” Arya adds, shrugging, though she can barely contain her laughter.
“It's going viral. A Christmas miracle story people can't stop following. Our PR department is swamped, and once the girl is out of danger, we need to hold a press conference. The mayor himself insisted on being present to say a few words.”
“So, we're not getting fired or anything?” Selene asks nervously.
“Fired? No, they'd probably burn down the hospital if we did that. Actually, with all this media coverage, we've already received our first donations, and more will surely follow. It's the story everyone wants to hear at Christmas. Makes us dream.”
“What about the FAA? My pilot's license?” Selene persists.
“They'll look the other way,” the board president assures her. “Though in the future, try to save lives with a bit less drama. It worked out this time, but it could have been a real nightmare,” he adds, raising his bushy eyebrows.
As the board members start a second round of what must be very expensive champagne, I rest my forehead against Selene's, seeing a mix of relief and joy in her eyes.
And as I kiss her, not caring who might be watching, I think about Holly, sedated in the ICU with a new heart beating in her tiny chest. About Vivian's tears of joy. About how sometimes the best Christmas gifts are the ones you never knew you needed.
And for the first time in years, I feel completely happy.