Chapter 1 #2
“Always here for you.” She paused, and when she spoke again, it was softer, almost reverent.
“Really, though—bring someone. Not sure if you checked out the pictures, but they’re stunning, okay?
It’s this private island off Cambodia—white sand, boardwalks through the jungle, villas right over the reef.
Like, you can watch fish swim by while you sip champagne on your private deck. ”
Sure, yeah—I’d heard worse. I made a vague noise, and she barreled on.
“Just think how it’ll be pouring rain in New York, or maybe that awful sleet stuff that doesn’t count as snow. Meanwhile, we’ll have perfect daytime temperatures for a swim, and it won’t be sweltering hot at night either. Bring someone. Anyone. Or I’ll personally drown you in the infinity pool.”
“You have weirdly strong feelings about this.”
“It’s my wedding, and I want you to have a good time.
” Her voice slowed, went low and warm. “Seriously, Dean. Think about it, okay? I mean, yeah, Mom would love it if you brought your boyfriend. But even just bringing a friend—I think you’d enjoy it more.
And I don’t know when you last took a vacation, so… please. For me.”
Damn, she sure knew how to make her case. Stupid lawyers.
“Message received,” I told her and stared at the coffeemaker like it might offer life advice. I sure could use some.
It took a minute for Gregg to stop laughing. Only to chance one look at me and start again.
“Thanks, man,” I said, barely loud enough to carry over the hospital cafeteria’s mid-afternoon buzz. Trays clattered, chatter underpinning the subtle weariness of staff who’d realized the pasta tasted just as miserable as they looked.
“Man.” He sucked in a breath, mirth crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re just—you’re priceless. Absolutely fucking priceless.”
“I’m glad my misery is amusing to you.” My flat tone was offset by the smile twitching around my mouth. It was hard to stew in self-pity when faced with his open delight at the world in general and my predicament in particular. Gregg kind of had that effect on people.
“Just so you know,” he said, “I’d totally be your fake boyfriend.” He gave a dramatic wave with his fork. “But Charley wouldn’t buy it. Plus, my girlfriend might have a few mild objections to me taking on a boyfriend and vanishing for a week.”
“Fair,” I conceded, elbows propped on the sticky table as I let my gaze sweep across the familiar space—three nurses huddled at a corner table, a banana sitting abandoned on a windowsill, and walls painted beige like the mood.
My coffee tasted slightly burnt. “Guess I’ll just say we broke up.
Which means no one’s gonna believe I even had a boyfriend to begin with, but whatever. I’ll survive.”
“Might want to work on shedding a few tears on demand.” Gregg shoved an ambitious amount of soggy spaghetti into his mouth and kept talking through it. “Though, listen. I’ve got an idea.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That usually means trouble.” Like that time we tried to, ah, liberate an unused hospital wheelchair to race down the underground staff corridor and I’d ended up with a bruised shin, or that other time he told the nurses I had a secret identical twin just to see how long he could keep the bit going. The answer was: four days.
“No, hear me out.” He shoved light brown hair off his forehead. “One of the residents on my team—charming guy, gay, has made a couple of comments about how he needs a break but can’t afford it.”
Right, I could see where this was going. “Gregg, no. I’m not bringing a complete stranger to meet my family.”
“He’s not.” Gregg’s grin flashed wide. “You know him. Did his cardio rotation under you, earlier this year. Tay.”
I shrugged. “Not usually on a first-name basis with the juniors.”
“See, it’s that sort of attitude that makes them think you communicate exclusively through scalpel placement.” He pointed his fork at me. “Tay Carter. Tall, good hair, dark eyes. You’d remember him.”
Uh, yeah. In theory, he’d been just another junior fumbling his way through cardio.
He wasn’t assigned to me directly, but we’d crossed paths a handful of times on ward rounds or in surgery, and—well.
In practice, there’d been something about his way with patients that even I had noticed, a…
humanity, maybe, something rather rare in our field.
Also, hard to forget the fittest general surgery resident who’d come through in a good long while, all narrow waist and legs for miles, raven hair, easy grins that he’d dished out like candy to anyone but me.
The kind of look my piece-of-shit dad would’ve called “a bit exotic,” because racism had been just one of his many charming qualities.
I didn’t usually allow the man to creep into my thoughts—must’ve been served up fresh by my mom’s unspoken fear that he’d messed me up beyond repair. I pushed it aside.
“Right,” I said, aiming for casual. “Carter, yeah. I remember him. Pretty.” Gorgeous, more like. “Still technically a junior, though, isn’t he?”
Gregg scoffed. “He’s in his final year of residency, Dean. And he’s good—really good. Half the departments he’s rotated through are hoping he’ll apply for a fellowship slot with them next year.”
True, maybe. But even so, you didn’t mix with juniors, not if you had half a brain.
Even after they’d rotated off, people remembered, and the gossip mill at the hospital could ferment scandal out of a shared sandwich.
Especially since I’d only just made attending—everyone still watching to see if I’d earn being picked over a long line of highly qualified external candidates.
“I guess so,” I said. “Would look pretty bad for me to be dating a junior, though.”
“One, not actually dating. And secondly, it’s not like you’d advertise it in here. Classic case of what happens in Vegas, right?”
I leaned back on my white plastic chair and sifted through another memory of Carter—Tay, apparently.
It must have been early into his rotation with us, maybe the end of his second week, and he was clearly coming down with something.
Nothing dramatic—just a slight lag behind the team, a barely-there cough he tried to muffle.
I’d pulled him aside after a routine op, just far enough from the others not to make it a scene.
“You’re sick,” I’d said.
“I’m fine,” came his automatic reply, a little too fast, eyes a shade too bright.
Sure. Except he’d looked like he’d wilt if I prodded him wrong. “You’ve coughed four times since we scrubbed out, and you’re sweating through your top.”
He hesitated, jaw clenched, then tried, “I can still write notes.”
I’d shaken my head. “You’re going home, Carter. You’re no good to anyone like this.”
His shoulders had gone tight, like I’d benched him from something important, like he’d failed—me, himself, who even knew.
He’d left with a small, brittle nod and missed the next five days, apparently knocked out by a nasty virus, before he returned too soon, his voice still hoarse and tiredness etched into the corners of his eyes.
I couldn’t be sure he’d avoided me afterwards, but it sure felt like he smiled and joked with everyone and fell quiet whenever I drew close.
“Dean?” Gregg’s voice pulled me back to the present.
“Sorry, yeah.” I frowned, turning my coffee cup so the handle was parallel to the edge of the table. “Honestly, I don’t think he liked me much. Tay, I mean.”
One side of Gregg’s mouth hitched up. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”
“He just seemed a bit awkward around me.”
Gregg’s laugh carried. “Nah, buddy—he liked you fine, trust me. You just had that intense senior fellow thing going—brilliant, precise, all that. Everyone assumed you’d be an attending before the next coffee break. And now you are.”
I felt neither brilliant nor precise right now. Intense? Perhaps. But then, medical matters were a lot easier to grasp than family expectations and social cues. Although I hadn’t missed the subtle note of worry that trailed Gregg’s statement.
“You’ll have the title soon enough, man. This time next year, you’ll be the one dodging congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Uncommonly soft for Gregg, but I decided to let it drop for now.
“Yeah. Anyway.” I cleared my throat. “Not sure I’m desperate enough to bring a fake boyfriend.”
“Nah, course not.” The mischievous glint in Gregg’s eyes said he was mostly indulging me here.
“But come on—it’s a damn luxury resort, man.
White sand, palm trees, tropical sunsets.
Feels criminal not to share it with someone who could genuinely use it.
Especially when it’d make things easier for you, too. ”
“You missed your calling as a salesman.”
Apparently, Gregg took that as permission. “I’ll float the idea to him,” he said, rising and grabbing his tray to leave. “If he’s game, just meet him for coffee. Can’t hurt, can it?”
Well, other than my pride, perhaps. I busied myself with rearranging empty sugar packets into a tiny, tragic fortress.
It was a ridiculous idea, obviously—which was Gregg’s specialty.
But. Carter seemed like a friendly enough guy, at least when he didn’t go weirdly quiet around me, and he sure was easy on the eyes. Maybe it’d be nice not to sit alone.
On the other hand, could I pull off a lie like that? Did I want to?
“Just coffee,” I said. “Okay? And then we’ll see. And don’t make it sound weird, all right? Maybe just… don’t mention my name, for now. Just check how he reacts to the general idea.”
“Weird—me?” Gregg winked. “Never.”
“Not reassuring, man.”
“Eh, don’t worry. I’ll be casual about it, yeah? Trust me.”
“Hardly,” I said when really, I did. Or, well—I trusted his good intentions. Just not necessarily his ability to think things all the way through.
He tossed me another grin along with a finger wiggle, tray balanced precariously in one hand. As he marched off, I sank back into my chair and exhaled a sigh. Fuck, it’d been a day—and it wasn’t evening yet.
Oh well, maybe Tay would say no right off the bat. Or maybe he would once he realized it was me. I wouldn’t blame him. After all, what did I know about pretending to be in love when even casual dating was a stretch for me? If he was as smart as he seemed, he’d clock this as bullshit within minutes.
Anyway, back to work.