Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
A va smoothed her hands over her slacks for the third time, trying to still the tremor in her fingers. The text from Dr. Ciponelli had been waiting on her phone when she’d woken that morning:
Need to meet with you today. My office, 2pm.
Innocuous enough, but the timing couldn’t be coincidental. The permanent position in the ED was opening up next month. She’d been working toward this for years—finishing her residency, taking the temporary position, proving herself shift after exhausting shift. And now, finally, it was within reach.
The door to Dr. Ciponelli’s office stood before her, the frosted glass bearing his name and title in stark black letters: HAROLD CIPONELLI, M.D., EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT DIRECTOR. Ava took a deep breath, ran her hands down her white coat once more, and knocked.
“Come in,” came the muffled response.
Dr. Ciponelli sat behind his desk, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reviewed something on his computer. His expression was sober, not as welcoming as usual, and Ava’s tension rose.
“Ah, Dr. Spencer-Campbell.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Ava settled into the chair, crossing her ankles and resting her hands in her lap to hide their trembling. “You wanted to see me?”
He removed his glasses, folding them deliberately before setting them aside. “Yes. Thank you for making time.” He leaned back slightly, regarding her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “As you know, we’re finalizing our decision on the permanent ED position.”
Her heart skipped. Here it was. She forced her face to remain neutral, professional. “Yes, of course.”
“Your work has been exemplary. Your clinical skills are beyond reproach, with a few minor improvements to be made.” He paused, and Ava felt the first stirrings of unease at the “but” that surely followed. “However, there’s something I need to clarify before we move forward.”
Ava swallowed; her mouth suddenly dry. “Of course.”
Dr. Ciponelli’s eyes met hers directly. “Were you and Reed Campbell dating before your wedding in Vegas?”
The question hit like a defibrillator shock. Ava felt her body go rigid, her mind racing wildly. How did he know? Who had told him? And more importantly—what should she say?
The lie was right there, ready on her tongue. The same lie she’d been telling for weeks. Yes, we’d been dating. It was a whirlwind romance. We decided to make it official . The lie that had helped secure her position, that had satisfied the board’s antiquated desire for “community stability” in their physicians.
But something in Dr. Ciponelli’s steady gaze told her he already knew the answer. Continuing the lie would only dig her deeper.
Her stomach clenched as she made her decision, the moment stretching painfully.
“No,” she said finally, her voice steadier than she expected. “We were not dating. We were friends, but the marriage happened unexpectedly in Vegas.”
Dr. Ciponelli let out a heavy sigh, and Ava’s heart sank. That wasn’t the sigh of someone who’d been hoping for a different answer.
“I’m glad you told the truth,” he said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk. “I had been made aware of the unusual circumstances of your marriage and did my best to uncover the truth.” His expression hardened slightly. “I am most concerned that you lied to everyone, that you manipulated the truth to get a position here at Elizabethtown General. This is not how we expect our employees to act. I am most disappointed in you, Ava.”
Each word struck like a physical blow. Ava felt heat flood her face, a mixture of shame and building anger. The position she’d worked so hard for was slipping away before her eyes. Years of education, sacrifice, endless shifts—and it all came down to a lie about her personal life.
“I am a qualified candidate,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “I’ve proven it over and over. It was unfair to expect me to prove ‘stability to the community’ in the first place. I’ve lived here my whole life.” She leaned forward, fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “Why should my marriage change anything about my ability to be an emergency physician?”
Dr. Ciponelli’s expression remained unmoved. “That’s not the point, Dr. Spencer. The point now is that you lied.” His pointed use of her maiden name spoke volumes. He spread his hands. “Where does this leave us? We need to reconsider our options.”
Reconsider our options. The diplomatic way of saying they were rescinding the offer they’d been about to make, or perhaps worse. Ava felt a cold wave of panic wash over her. This was her career—her life—hanging in the balance.
“Dr. Ciponelli, please.” She hated the pleading note that crept into her voice, but she couldn’t stop it. “We were celebrating our friends’ marriage and did something impulsive, something we couldn’t easily take back. We decided to forge ahead instead of dealing with the backlash and see what came of it. And, I believe, we have found something solid. Was it a mistake, yes. But it wasn’t intentional. You know my history with this hospital, what it means to me to work here. Of all the candidates, I am most rooted in the community. Joe Salvini has made no bones about wanting to be a trauma surgeon in a big city hospital. We’ll just be a stepping stone for him.”
He nodded slightly. “I do know. But I’m not comparing you to other candidates. I’m looking at you and your character. Which makes this all the more disappointing.”
“What will happen now?” she asked, her throat tight, her entire body numb.
Dr. Ciponelli removed a folder from his desk drawer. Her personnel file, she realized with a sinking feeling.
“The Board will need to be informed,” he said, opening the file. “We’ll re-assess the position with the Board and make our final decision after further consideration. I should warn you, I am considering withdrawing my recommendation for you for the position.”
Ava sat perfectly still. Withdrawing his recommendation would effectively end her chances for the position. He ran the department. No one would place her there if he didn’t want her. She would have to find a new position.
“I understand. Is there anything else?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at her evenly. “None of this is certain yet. I want to consider this further and, of course, the Board will meet to discuss this development. But I believe I speak for them all when I say how disappointed we are.”
Ava’s mind raced. How dd he find out? How could she turn this around?
“May I ask who brought this to your attention?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice level.
Dr. Ciponelli shook his head. “That’s not relevant to the discussion at hand.”
But it was relevant to her. Someone had deliberately exposed her lie. Someone had wanted to hurt her. Or perhaps someone had simply let the truth slip, not realizing the damage it would do.
“I understand,” she said, the words ashen in her mouth.
He nodded, making a note in her file. “Good. We should have a decision by the end of the week.” He closed the folder. “I’m not unsympathetic, Dr. Spencer. I understand the pressure to conform to outdated expectations. But integrity matters in this profession. We hold lives in our hands. If I can’t trust your word on something as straightforward as your personal history, how can I trust your judgment in critical situations?”
The unfairness of this comparison stung. “My clinical judgment has never been compromised,” she said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. “I would never lie about a patient’s condition or treatment.”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But trust, once broken, is difficult to rebuild.” He glanced at his watch. “I have another meeting in five minutes. Do you have any other questions before you go?”
A thousand questions swirled in her mind. How would this affect her daily work? Who else knew? Would this follow her for the rest of her career? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask any of them, not when the answers might only make things worse.
“No,” she said, rising from her chair on unsteady legs. “Thank you for your consideration.”
Dr. Ciponelli nodded once, already turning back to his computer. Dismissed.
Ava walked out of the office, closing the door carefully behind her. The hallway stretched before her, bustling with staff going about their day, unaware that her world had just imploded. She moved mechanically toward the locker room, desperate for a moment alone before her shift started.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. A text from Reed:
How’d the meeting go? Good news?
Ava stared at the screen, a lump forming in her throat. What could she possibly say? That their fake marriage—the one that had somehow become all too real—had just cost her everything she’d worked for? That she was hanging onto her career by a thread?
She shoved the phone back into her pocket without responding. She couldn’t face Reed right now, couldn’t bear to see the guilt and worry that would inevitably cloud his eyes when she told him. This mess was her creation. She’d dragged him into it, and now she was paying the price.
As she pushed open the door to the locker room, Ava felt the first hot tears threatening to spill. She blinked them back furiously. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not where someone might see.
Later, when she was alone, she would allow herself to break down. But right now, she had patients waiting. And unlike her personal life, that was something she could still control. Something she could still get right.
Ava took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and began changing into her scrubs. Dr. Ciponelli could change his mind. In the meantime, she would have to start looking for an alternative position.
She’d survived worse. She would survive this, too.
She had to.
R eed was chopping vegetables for dinner when the front door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the wall. His knife paused mid-slice, his heart giving a quick, uneasy kick. He glanced at the clock—6:37 PM, nearly four hours since Ava’s meeting with Dr. Ciponelli. He’d texted her earlier, but she hadn’t responded. Not unusual with her job, but after last night—after holding her, after she let him in—he thought maybe they’d turned a corner.
He set the knife down and wiped his hands on a dish towel, his ears tuning in to the sound of her footsteps in the hallway. The rhythm was off. Too quick. Too heavy. A bad sign.
“Ava?” he called out. “I’m making stir-fry. Should be ready in?—”
She appeared in the doorway, still in her work clothes, her coat hanging open over scrubs. Her usually poised, carefully held-together expression was gone, replaced by something raw, frayed at the edges. Her face was pale except for two bright spots of color high on her cheeks. Red-rimmed eyes met his, dry but stormy, holding a sharpness that sent a chill down his spine.
“Who did you tell?” The words were quiet, but razor-sharp.
Reed blinked, his grip on the dish towel tightening. “What?”
“About our marriage.” She stepped further into the kitchen, her body radiating a barely contained fury. “Who did you tell about Vegas?”
For a second, the question didn’t compute. Then it did—horribly, viscerally. A cold weight settled in his chest, pressing down like a vice.
“No one,” he said, his voice steady despite the slow churn of dread in his gut. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
Ava let out a sharp, humorless laugh and dropped her bag onto the counter with a thud. “Don’t lie to me, Reed. Not now.”
“I’m not lying.” He set the towel down carefully, like any sudden movement might set her off. “What’s going on? What happened with Ciponelli?”
“What happened?” Her voice lifted, brittle with disbelief. “What happened is that someone told him about our marriage. That it wasn’t real. That we weren’t dating before Vegas.” She raked a hand through her hair, strands escaping the neat ponytail she always kept perfectly in place. “He knew everything, Reed. Now I could lose the position and my job.”
The weight in his chest turned to ice.
“Jesus, Ava.” His throat felt tight, words struggling to come through. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you?” Her gaze sharpened, cutting straight through him. “Because it seems awfully convenient that the truth comes out right when things were finally starting to look up for me.”
The accusation hit like a punch to the gut. Reed took a step back, bumping against the counter, a sick mix of anger and disbelief rising in his chest.
“Wait, you seriously think I did this? That I told someone?”
“Who else knew?” She threw up her hands, her movements sharp with frustration. “My parents are dead. Noah wouldn’t tell anyone. My friends from med school are scattered across the country. The only person who knew the whole story was you.”
“And by ‘whole story,’ you mean the lie we’ve been telling everyone? The lie you asked me to tell?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, but the accusation was so damn unfair it burned. “Rachel and Kyle knew too. Did you confront them?”
Her jaw tightened. “Don’t turn this around on me. Rachel would never tell anyone.”
Ava paced the small kitchen, her movements tight, controlled—like a caged animal looking for an escape.
“You’ve been pushing for weeks to make this marriage real.” Her voice was clipped, accusatory. “You couldn’t stand that I wasn’t treating this like some big love story, could you? So you made sure everyone knew what a joke this marriage really is?”
Reed felt the hit of her words like a slap. His pulse throbbed in his temples, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat.
Last night, he’d held her through a storm of memories she never let anyone see. He’d kissed her, made love to her with everything he had, thinking—hoping—that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to let him in.
And now she thought this?
“That’s what you think of me?” His voice dropped, quiet but weighted with something he couldn’t quite contain. “That I would deliberately sabotage your career?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” She slammed her hand on the counter, the knife rattling against the cutting board. “All I know is that someone told Ciponelli, and now everything I’ve worked for is hanging by a thread.”
Reed dragged a hand down his face, forcing himself to stay calm when all he wanted to do was shout that he would never do this to her. “Ava, I swear to you, I didn’t tell anyone about Vegas. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Her eyes flickered, scanning his face like she could pull the truth straight from his skin. “Could you have said something without realizing it? You talk to everyone, more people than I do.”
The sting of her words cut deep because there was truth to them. Reed was open, easygoing, the guy who struck up conversations in elevators and remembered people’s birthdays. But not about this. Not about her.
“I’ve been careful,” he said, holding her gaze. “I know how important this job is to you. I know what’s at stake.”
“Do you?” Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she was holding herself together. “Because sometimes I wonder if you understand at all. This isn’t just a job to me, Reed. It’s everything. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
The only thing.
The words lodged deep, a quiet confirmation of what he’d suspected but never wanted to hear. That no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to make this real, he would never come first.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” he repeated, his voice steady despite the ache blooming in his chest. “I need you to believe that.”
She hesitated; her posture stiff. “I want to,” she murmured, but the doubt in her tone was louder than anything else.
Reed swallowed against the lump in his throat. “How bad is it?”
Ava’s shoulders slumped slightly, her anger ebbing into exhaustion. “The Board has to meet and decide. Ciponelli may withdraw his recommendation.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re the best candidate for the position!”
“Apparently, he has concerns about me, my trustworthiness. If I can lie about my personal life, what else would I lie about was his implication.” She leaned against the counter, looking as worn out as he felt.
Reed wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms like last night, to shield her from the weight of it all. But the accusation still hung between them like a barrier he couldn’t break.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “We’ll get through this.”
Her laugh was bitter, empty. “There is no ‘we’ in this, Reed. This is my career, my life. You’re just along for the ride.”
The words landed hard, knocking the breath from his lungs.
He had spent months trying to turn this marriage into something real. Trying to show her that a drunken mistake in Vegas could become something worth fighting for. Last night, he thought they’d finally started to bridge the gap between them.
But now? Now it felt like they were further apart than ever.
She turned away, grabbing her bag. “I need to change. I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“Ava, we need to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk anymore.” Her voice was flat, distant. “I just want to be alone.”
She paused without turning. “There’s no sense staying together now. I’ll pack my things and be gone in the morning.”
Reed stared at her back, anger a slow boil inside of him. “Well, you never really tried, did you? You’ve been so afraid to admit this marriage means something. I thought maybe you were starting to believe in us. But I see now you’ll always think the worst of me.”
“This was all temporary, Reed. You knew that. Nothing more.”
Reed watched her disappear down the hall, the soft click of her bedroom door sealing him out. He stood there for a long moment before grabbing his keys.
Maybe it was time to let her go.