Chapter 10 #2
“Winnie. Hello.”
Winnie turned to the gorgeous young woman.
“Just in case you’re dating him, I was, too.
He’s married. Three kids, the oldest just turned five.
He never mentioned them the whole six months we were together.
You might want to dodge this bullet.” She looked back at Mitchell-Tanner.
“I’m so glad I made you use condoms, but I did get an STD panel just in case.
I bet your poor wife has to get those all the time. I was clean, by the way.”
“Is that true?” said the young woman. Mitchell-Tanner pulled a face. “Jesus, you’re disgusting.” She turned to Winnie. “Did his wife text you?”
“Worse. She blasted the whole thing at his son’s birthday party.”
“You didn’t do a background check?”
“Believe me, I did. He uses a different name professionally. My bad.”
“Well,” said the woman, “I’m not dating him. But thank you. And, girl, next time, check out . It uses AI to scrape all the dating apps.”
“Great tip. Thanks.”
The woman turned sharply, her braids swinging, and took a few steps away, then pulled out her phone.
“Don’t worry, Mitchell-Tanner. I’m sure you’ll find another woman to lie to,” Winnie said, her cheeks—and heart—hot with anger.
Mitchell looked at her, his face pitying. “Oh, Winnie. You’re a grown woman. You knew what you were getting into.”
“I didn’t know, Mitchell, because you told me you were single. You lied for months.”
“More like you were lying to yourself, babe. You literally brought nothing to the table other than easy access. Obviously, we weren’t serious.”
She sputtered. Not serious? He’d asked where she might want to take a honeymoon! “Your wife thought we were serious. The wife I didn’t know about, just to drive that fact home.”
“She and I have an understanding.”
Winnie snorted. “Yeah, right. That was totally clear when she had her meltdown at your child’s birthday party.”
“Blakelee knows I have to flirt with patrons from time to time.”
Winnie felt her blood pressure soar. There was a buzzing in her ears. “You did more than flirt with me. We were together for six months! You said you loved me.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
“Oh, God, Winnie, really? Did you really think I meant it? Wait. I forgot you…how did you put it?… You’d only shared yourself with one other guy.
” He made air quotes around those words, words she’d wrestled with for half a day, trying to find a way to tell him she was inexperienced.
“So maybe you are a bit stupid when it comes to men.”
Then someone was standing next to her. Lorenzo. He was looking at Mitchell, expressionless, his blue eyes like Arctic ice. “Sir,” he said, “if you would like to get to your destination without a black eye, I suggest you sit down and shut up.” Then he looked at Winnie. “Everything all right?”
“Yep. Though I think a black eye would be a great look for you, you cheating asshole. I’d like to do the honors, though.” Her heart felt huge and wrong in her chest, flopping and convulsing like…like a dying sea lion.
Then Lorenzo did something shocking. He took her hand. “Don’t waste your energy on trash, darling. Let’s go. They’re boarding first class. After you.”
With her head feeling oddly disconnected from her body, she went to the gate attendant, fumbled with her phone and flashed her boarding pass to the gate agent.
“Welcome aboard, Miss Smith,” he said, and Winnie walked down the jet bridge to the plane.
“Right this way, Miss Smith,” said the flight attendant.
“Dr. Santini, welcome aboard.” She had a window seat.
She stood there, still feeling sick. The attendant put their bags in the overhead compartment, then asked if they’d like champagne or coffee.
“Champagne for both of us,” Lorenzo said. Winnie got into her seat, buckled the belt, and stared out the window.
Mitchell-Tanner was on the same flight they were. He was going to San Francisco, alone, but she guessed he’d find someone to screw while he was there.
The memory of his searing words landed in her chest, and suddenly, her eyes were full of tears.
She felt Lorenzo sit next to her. A second later, he pushed a glass of champagne into her hand.
“Drink that.” She did, in one gulp, wincing as the bubbles burned down her throat.
He handed her his glass, and she took a smaller sip, unable to look at him.
People were coming onto the plane now, filing past them. “We’re going to be deep in conversation when that man walks past,” he said. “Here. Take a look at my presentation for tomorrow.” He opened his laptop. “You’ll get to see this before anyone else. Consider it a privilege of the job.”
He tilted his head close to hers as he opened the PowerPoint. Handling Unexpected Complications During Level Five Abdominal Surgeries read the first slide.
“Ah,” she said. “I’ve been dying to learn about this.”
He glanced at her and again, a remarkable thing happened.
He smiled. “Prepare to learn,” he said. “Let’s take slide number four.
Hepatopancreatobiliary surgery, or HPB for short, is almost always to remove metastatic or primary pancreatic tumors.
Some HPBs can be minimally invasive, but for the presentation, I’m focusing on more aggressive interventions, such as a Whipple procedure. ”
“Of course,” Winnie said.
His voice was low and gentle as he explained the basics of this type of surgery. The medical terminology, something she’d heard from her dad and Lark all her life, was oddly musical. Laparoscopic. Cholecystectomy. Biliary. Duodenum.
His shoulder was warm against hers as he spoke, and she appreciated that he assumed she could follow along.
He was not condescending, but he sensed what terms a layperson might not understand and explained in a concise, logical way.
He must be a good teacher, she thought as she finished his champagne.
“The background of your slides is a little dull,” she said. “There are dozens you can choose. If you want, I can do that for you. Maybe bullet-point some of the terms and use some visuals.”
He looked at her, a little surprised. “Well. Don’t change the text or anything.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I can just make it a little more appealing. Friendlier, easier to look at.”
“That would be…agreeable, I suppose,” he said.
“I’ll do it as soon as we get to the hotel.”
“Thank you.” He held her gaze, and she noticed that his eyes weren’t icy at all. They were just blue. A very nice shade of blue, actually. Clear, medium blue. She should probably think of something more descriptive than that, but it really wasn’t her way. “You look very nice, by the way,” he added.
“You get the credit for that,” she said.
“I think your parents get the credit for that.” Another smile. Was he flirting with her? No. But…no. She’d bet her pinky finger Lorenzo Santini, M.D., Ph.D., had never flirted in his life. “All clear,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“Your former person is on his way to steerage. You’re safe.”
“Steerage?” she said. “Don’t call it that, Lorenzo.” But she was smiling. Hey, she’d sat back there in the rear of the plane. He wasn’t wrong.
And then, maybe because of the champagne, she was laughing harder, giggling, and then her eyes were wet again, and the laughs stopped and maybe some crying was taking place.
“He didn’t deserve you,” Lorenzo said quietly, handing her a handkerchief. He had a handkerchief. Of course he did. Then he turned back to his laptop, closed the PowerPoint, and opened a different document and began typing.
It occurred to her as she closed her eyes that what Dr. Satan had done—from the second he appeared at the gate to showing her his presentation to ignoring her right now—was among the kindest things anyone had ever done for her.