Chapter 29
B efore dawn can crack its eyes open against the night sky, mine snap open. For a moment, I’m disoriented until I feel the tickle of hair on my chest and the warm, soft breaths of the woman wrapped around me like a vine. I hate to move. Hate to leave. But I don’t have a choice on either of those.
I slide her hand off my chest and creep out from beneath her. She moans before I make it even a few inches, rolling over, and I puff out a sigh of relief until she says, “You sneaking out?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, smiling at how she hugs her pillow against her naked chest. “I have an early shift and two surgeries to prep for.”
“Have fun with that.”
I chuckle. “What time are you done with stuff today?”
“I’m at Children’s at ten and then I have rehearsal until Antonio dismisses us, so probably somewhere around six.”
“Wanna go to a charity dinner with me tonight?”
“Absolutely not. That sounds awful.”
I grin. “It is. But you’ll be with me.”
“Tempting, but I have symphony friends coming over tonight.”
“Can I meet them?”
“Absolutely not,” she repeats, but this time I catch her smile. “Maybe soon, though.”
Leaning down onto the bed, I press my lips to the space between her shoulder blades. “I love you.”
“Yep. Heard it all before.”
Reaching under the blankets, I squeeze her bare ass. “That the best you got for me?”
“I might love you too. You know. Like a little.”
I squeeze again. Harder.
“Or maybe a lot.”
“That’s what I thought. Talk to you later?”
“Yeah, yeah. Stop being so needy and let me go back to sleep.”
With a grin, I leave her room, getting myself dressed and then doing an awesome walk of shame back up to my place to get showered and ready for the day.
But as I open my phone—anxious to see some of last night’s picture and video action—I pause when I find the text stream with my siblings in full swing. Even at this hour.
Kaplan: It was one meal. Don’t you think you’re overreacting?
Rina: No. Not even a little. You should know better by now than to second-guess a nurse’s intuition. Something isn’t right.
Landon: I didn’t like her coloring if I’m being honest.
Rina: See!
Carter: Okay. Say you’re right and something is wrong. What do we do about it?
Oliver: She’ll blow us off if we try and say something.
Me: What’s going on? What did I miss?
Kaplan: While you were busy with your ‘other things’ last night, which I assume means you were with Raven and acting like a ten-year-old not telling us, Mom didn’t eat much if anything and was quieter than usual. And apparently her coloring is off according to our resident cardiologist.
I frown, reading that over twice as I step off the elevator into my apartment.
Me: She will blow us off if we say anything . Unfortunately, that’s how Octavia Abbot-Fritz, Boston’s queen and lover of appearances, rolls. Did Dad notice?
Carter: If he did, he didn’t say anything or let on about it.
Kaplan: Which is why I think it’s nothing more than an off night. Dad would be all over that.
Oliver: That’s what you think or that’s what you want to think?
Kaplan: Don’t get all cryptic with me, baby brother. I’m just saying Dad wouldn’t let that shit pass.
Landon: Likely not, but women notice stuff we don’t evidently because Elle just read my texts over my shoulder and nodded her head, agreeing with Rina.
Oliver: Yeah. I just asked Amelia and she’s on board with Rina too.
Carter: Grace as well. She’s off today and volunteered to go over there and check on her. Talk baby showers or something.
Rina: I can go over too this afternoon. I’m only on till three.
Me: Good. Glad Gracey Lou Freebush and Rina Bina are on it. I’m with the women and nurses on this. I don’t like it.
Kaplan: Report back to us after you go. Will I see the rest of you losers at the charity thing tonight?
Oliver: We’ll be there.
Landon: Same.
Carter: I have the limo set to pick Kaplan and Luca up at six-thirty.
Me: See you then.
Doing my best to tuck my worry in, knowing Rina and Grace will check in on her today, I get myself showered and out the door.
I wanted to watch the video again, but that will have to wait until later.
Still… last night… my smile is uncontainable as I park in my spot in the garage at Brigham and Women’s hospital.
My girl loves me.
She forgives me. At least I think she does.
Hopping out of the car, I hit the button to lock it up, but before I can make it to the elevator, someone calls my name. I turn to find one of the other neurosurgeons, Will James, jogging to catch up with me.
“Hey,” he says, clapping a hand on my arm. “Glad I caught you.”
I shake his hand. “What’s up, man? I feel like I haven’t seen you around much.”
“I’ve been cutting back on hours. Spending more time with my grandkids. But I wanted to mention that I heard you’re a finalist for the Treesprite grant. Congratulations.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline, but I quickly rein in my shock. I didn’t realize this was common knowledge. “Thank you. It’s an honor to be considered.”
We head toward the elevator, pressing the button. “I’m not sure if you knew this, but I won that grant once.”
I pivot to face him right before the doors open and we step on. “No. I didn’t know that. When did you win?”
He chuckles at my expression. “Years ago,” he emphasizes. “I think I was just a couple of years older than you are now. It was an incredible experience. Changed my life. Made me a much better doctor, I can tell you that.”
A strange cocktail of excitement and apprehension swarms through me as we’re carried up into the hospital. “How so?”
“Well, for one, you make an incredible difference. I was in Argentina and then Kenya. The cases I saw in both places are unlike anything. Some of these people don’t have access to clean water or proper shelter.
So the care you provide goes so deep. Things like post-op care are a huge consideration.
And some of the things you’ll see have been undiagnosed and untreated for years, sometimes decades.
It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, that’s for sure. ”
I shake my head, floored by this. “I’ve wanted this for years,” I admit. “It’s why I applied, even when I was still a resident. I just never thought I’d be considered, let alone a finalist.”
He shrugs, leaning back against the back of the elevator. “I hadn’t either and then it happened. And I’m not you, if you know what I mean. I’m happy for you and I hope you get it. I still go on medical missions once a year for a couple of weeks because of it. You should find out soon, right?”
I nod numbly, staring up at the numbers as they glow from one to the next. “Couple weeks, I think.”
The car starts to slow. “I wish you the best of luck with it.” He smacks my shoulder, righting himself. “Let me know if you have any questions. I’m happy to help.”
The doors part and with that, he steps out. Before I can think twice about it, I race out after him. “Will? Hey, hold on a second.”
He pauses, turning to face me.
I glance down at this left hand, holding there for a moment. “Were you married when you went?”
He chuckles and something in the sound has me looking up at him. “So that’s why you looked so forlorn. You’ve got someone?”
I nod. “Someone I don’t want to leave.” Again .
“Yes, I was married. But Kara wasn’t working, and we hadn’t yet had the boys. She came with me. Volunteered in the clinics so we could be together. Is something like that an option for you?”
“No.”
He bobs his head as he considers this. “I would have gone anyway. That was the plan if Kara couldn’t make it work with her visa and volunteering.”
I shake my head, my hands meeting my hips. “How could you have made that work?”
“Because we love each other,” he says simply, as if the answer should have been obvious.
“It would have been difficult, but we had made a commitment to each other and at the end of the day, it was only two years of being apart. I would have come home when I could, and she would have come to visit me.”
How can he be so cavalier? We’re talking South America and Africa. Not exactly around the corner. They make London look like a cakewalk. His words hit me harder than I expect them to. All of this has.
I think about the commitment I made to Raven. The wedding wasn’t real, but I had promised her a lifetime. Then I broke it. Broke her. I couldn’t do that to her again. And I don’t think she’d understand if I told her I was going, but we’d stay together.
We’re too new. Hardly even back together.
But the idea of this grant… of changing lives like that… of practicing that sort of medicine…
“I almost hope they don’t pick me.” I’m not sure I mean that.
I want this grant so badly, I’ve been consumed with it.
Like a kid who loves basketball and dreams of the NBA.
Realistic for very few and I never considered they’d be interested in me for this.
This could be the greatest opportunity of my life.
He gives me a sympathetic look. “Well, if they do, you and this woman will figure it out. If she’s the one, you’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I say absently. Will walks off and I’m left standing here, lost in a flurry of indecision. What on earth would I do if I got this grant?