Chapter Two
In which Lady Luck is avoiding eye contact.
Ava…
While my luck might possibly be changing when it comes to accommodations, it has not improved at the hospital.
When I check the surgical schedule, I see I’ve been assigned a radical nephrectomy.
I’m feeling cautiously excited until I see who’s performing it.
Kidney removal surgeries can be anywhere between one to seven hours, but any amount of time on this procedure is going to be too long because the surgeon is none other than my slimy ex-fiancé.
Knowing him, I’m sure he requested me.
Bastard.
Sure enough, after I scrub in there he is. Dr. Kevin Sinclair, reading through the surgical notes and radiating Smug in a cloud so thick and toxic that I can’t believe he hasn’t killed the poor patient.
“Ava, just in time,” he chuckles heartily. He has two residents attending him and they nervously chuckle, too. “I’ll let you work very closely with me on this procedure, I know you haven’t had much experience in Urology. This will be good for you.”
“I’m always happy to learn something new,” I smile sweetly before pulling my mask up.
The room is bustling with surgical staff, lights shining down brightly on the patient and the low, soothing buzz of the monitors.
I’ve always felt alive, sharp, and focused in this space, and now I’m forced to share it with the man who broke my heart and humiliated me.
How did I ever find him attractive? Kevin is in his mid-thirties, handsome in that overbred, blue-eyed, boarding school way. His blond hair, currently hidden under his surgical cap, is already thinning, which gives me great joy.
When he first took me under his wing, I was thrilled to have an important surgeon take interest in my career.
The occasional cup of coffee moved to lunch and then dinners and before I really knew what was happening, he was presenting me with a garish diamond ring in front of a crowd of cheering friends.
“Mr. Martin Chen is a fifty-five-year-old man with a history of kidney disease in his family,” Kevin narrates. “Today, we’ll be removing his left kidney in its entirety and…”
He loves the sound of his own voice.
“It’s important to be certain the incision is not too…” Blinking, I try to pretend I’m paying attention. Kevin is looking at me and not the patient until I widen my eyes meaningfully, casting at glance at poor Mr. Chen.
I’d rather give a hundred prostate exams than stand next to this insufferable prick for the next several hours, but Lady Luck is clearly avoiding eye contact and I’m stuck listening to him drone on about his family’s summer house in the Hamptons and his upcoming medical conference where he’ll be speaking because he’s such a fucking groundbreaker in testicular cancer and why can’t he have testicular cancer because in a just world…
Focus. Focus on the patient.
Three hours later…
“Good work, everyone!”
I jump slightly because Kevin shouts it right in my ear as I’m closing up the patient. Still, my hands don’t slip and I finish the last few stitches carefully before stepping back.
“Not the tidiest job,” he muses, looking over my handiwork. This is a lie and he knows it, but his residents cluck like they can’t believe I’m allowed in a surgical theater. “But I’m sure your handiwork will improve.”
“You’re so kind, Dr. Sinclair.”
“I’ll just leave you to finish up the notes,” he says with a spiteful little grin. I groan internally, knowing this is going to take at least two hours. “You have all my dictation. I have an important dinner tonight.” He winks at his fawning residents. “Can’t keep a pretty girl waiting.”
Poor woman. I hope he’s taking her someplace nice to make up for the fact that she’s having dinner with an asshole.
Our anesthesiologist bumps my shoulder with his. “We could just have him murdered,” he whispers.
I choke on a laugh when Kevin looks at us. He’s never liked Shawn, because he has no patience for my ex’s preening.
“Well, you are the guy with the good drugs,” I murmur. Kevin marches out of the operating room, his residents trailing him like anxious ducklings.
“Something simple to stop his heart,” Shawn says thoughtfully, pulling his gloves off with a snap. “A nice overdose of beta blockers that-”
“Stop it!” I’m laughing and sort of horrified at the same time. “You’re making this sound far too achievable.”
A grin flashes bright against his dark face. “You said it first. I know all the good drugs.” His smile fades a bit. “You know he should have assigned one of his residents to finish the surgical report.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t. I can’t exactly file a complaint because a senior surgeon made me do his paperwork.”
We head out into the hallway, peeling the blue booties off our shoes. “I hate to even say this because we’d miss you, but a friend of mine says there’s PA openings at Mount Sinai. Maybe it’s time for a move?”
“I’d love to apply, but I have another year on my rotation here. Dr. Douchebag should be tired of bothering me soon.”
“Maybe,” he says. “I think you hurt his poor widdle feelings. He pushes out his lower lip as I laugh. “The man radiates tiny dick energy.”
“You have no idea.”
Shawn slings an arm around my shoulders. “What you need to do is get yourself back out there. Pick someone richer, hotter, and meaner than Kevin. You’re gorgeous! All that blonde hair waving around and your blue eyes? And you’re dainty, like a flower.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I’m so short I should be shopping in the kid’s section?”
He laughs loudly enough to win us a collective glare from the nurse’s station.
“Go,” I say, trying to smother my laugh. “Enjoy your night.”
“See you tomorrow.”
***
It’s after midnight by the time I finish the notes, so I splurge on an Uber to get home.
There are crowds of people enjoying the warm spring night, clustering outside of bars and restaurants.
I try to think of the last time I put on a dress and went out for overpriced cocktails with the girls.
Long enough that I can’t remember the last time, which is just sad.
As I empty my backpack, the real estate agent’s card is sticking out of my wallet, its shiny red surface tempting me. Pulling it out, I look at Cynthia’s email address, written in gold.
“What the hell.” I sit on my bed, pulling my laptop closer. “It can’t hurt to apply, right? Some part of my life needs to be better than this.”
***
radical nephrectomy - kidney removal