Chapter Seven
Daniel
T he line went silent, and honestly I wasn’t sure if she hung up with all the dinging and ringing in the background. My current situation—laid up in a small-town hospital, on only Tylenol for pain medication—was less than desirable.
“New Hampshire?”
“Yes, I was skiing with a few buddies. And well, I’m not as agile as I used to be.”
“Yes, I see. You don’t want to go back to California and admit to the people you see every day that you’re aging. So you want me to fix it on the sly, back east?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I forgot how smart Wren was, and to be honest, how she didn’t mince words. She was only partly right, but I feared what she would truly say if I told her the whole truth. Also, for some godforsaken reason, I took this injury as a sign to reunite with the woman.
I’d spent years thinking about her, married and divorced someone else, trying to forget her, and it still hadn’t worked.
“I’d rather not travel on a plane like this, and you are also one of the best. You fixed the football player, so why not me?”
It burned me to even mention the quarterback, the one whose meniscus she repaired. I’d seen him touting her up all over social media, and I’d never hated anyone as much. Birdie was mine…for a few weeks…and I couldn’t stand to think of her with anyone else.
“Don’t you have a doctor wherever you are in New Hampshire? I mean, why are you even in the hospital? And are you sure it requires surgery?”
“Yeah, I have a doctor here—full tear, by the way—and I said I was calling in a favor with a friend in Boston. I’m here in the hospital on a separate courtesy. Um, I was skiing with a Hollywood friend. He’s here filming, and in an effort to hold the paparazzi at bay, they’re keeping me here. I don’t need this in the tabloids and neither does he…spending time on the slopes instead of working. His playboy ways have already gotten him in some trouble.”
“Okay, enough. I don’t want to know any more. Thinking of you and your Hollywood bestie acting like bachelor idiots is enough to throw me over the edge. Plus, all this vague name-dropping is giving me a headache. I’m sure you’re friends with the entire A-list. But me? I’m not your friend—”
“Wren, please?”
“Daniel, listen, I have an office full of patients waiting to be seen. We are one week from Christmas. I don’t know what my surgical schedule looks like…and it’s an unofficial rule to never operate on friends or family. Not that you’re either, but I can’t just squeeze you in at the busiest time of the year.”
Of course, she was lying. I didn’t think there was anything this woman didn’t know—especially her schedule—but I was allowing her to keep up the charade. “I understand. If you could look into it, just for shite’s sake, that would mean the most.”
“Here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to give you back to my PA and she can have your images sent over. And then see about scheduling you with someone on my team or me, whoever is available first.”
“Or you, would be my preference. I don’t have any plans for Christmas,” I volunteered. I wondered if she had someone special in her life. Maybe they were Jewish?
“Daniel, this has been lovely. A real blast from the past, but I have to go. We have protocols here, and calling and demanding to talk with me won’t work next time.”
“Birdie, I need you to fix my knee,” I semi-begged into the phone.
Regina was back before I even knew if Wren heard me, asking me all kinds of questions.
“Good morning, Mr. Campbell.” A short brunette with a warm smile greeted me. She held the door as the hospital volunteer wheeled me into the office.
“Genie?” I asked from my wheelchair, wishing I was standing for what was about to come. Alas, I wouldn’t be here if I was able to stand without doing worse damage.
“The one and only. Glad to see they were able to get you here discreetly .” She winked, and I nodded.
After Genie found an opening in Wren’s schedule and penciled me in, she spoke with my attending and sent for my X-rays, stating that Dr. Bianchi would have to look at the tear herself. One day later, she called back, letting me know that, in fact, I needed surgery.
Duh .
Ryan Strauss—my friend, and America’s sweetheart on the big screen and bad boy when he wasn’t—had his agent arrange for a private transport. And here I was, in Boston, seated in a wheelchair, my leg propped up in front of me. And hopefully, moments away from seeing Birdie. Just thinking about it made me take pause… This was not how I envisioned this reunion, yet it was about to happen.
“As a protocol, we need to do a consult today. And then tomorrow Dr. Bianchi will do the operation. Of course, she’s seen all the notes and spoken with your doctor in New Hampshire. But Wren likes to do things by the book.”
“Oh, I know she does.”
“One of these days I want to hear more about all that,” Genie leaned forward and said near my ear. “Your friend’s agent also arranged for an overnight stay here at the hospital. Must be nice to have friends in high places. After the surgery tomorrow, if all goes well, you’ll be discharged to a rehabilitation place, which is also a favor. You will get additional PT and we’ll try to get you back to sunny California before too long.”
“Ryan, as you know, is here filming. And I’m not telling you anything proprietary, but there are insurance riders on actors. What you didn’t hear from me is his didn’t include backcountry skiing. We had a guide, and luckily Ryan didn’t get hurt. But for the sake of everyone involved, we are trying not to highlight anything about the ski trip or my mishap.”
“You’re a good friend,” she said, finally wheeling me into an office room.
“That’s Hollywood for you. We are our own bubble, and what happens there, stays there… Or what happens in New Hampshire…”
As luck would have it, Genie and I were sharing a laugh when she walked in.
“Good morning, Mr. Campbell,” was how she welcomed me. I hadn’t seen her in close to half my life, and her beauty took my breath away. Sadly, she’d polished up her professional demeanor for me. I’d prefer to be greeted like a long-lost lover…
My eyes followed her across the room and drank her in. She’d turned into a beautiful woman, as I’d imagined she would. Chestnut hair framed her face, long lashes flickered over her eyes, and her lips were outlined in a red gloss. The breath whooshed out of my chest as an avalanche of memories fell on me. Ours had been the briefest time period, yet the most meaningful in my life.
“Birdie,” I whispered.
“I’ll take it from here, Regina,” Wren spoke firmly.
With a frown on her face, I could tell the physician’s assistant left begrudgingly.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said as soon as we were alone.
“Let’s keep this professional, okay? You’re here, just like you willed it, so let’s get you fixed up.” Wren sifted a hand through her curls, and then turned a screen to show me my X-ray.
Without any pleasantries, she pointed toward the tear and went on about the repair and recuperation. I’d heard most of it in New Hampshire before I concocted this plan to finally see Birdie.
“Normally, you would go home after a few hours. But you have friends in high places, so it seems you’ll be discharged to rehab, after yet another pricey overnight here, for a few weeks of recuperation and physical therapy. You’ll be able to fly back to the West Coast right after the new year and finish your physio there…and life will go back to normal for you. I expect a full recovery.”
“I understand there is a rehab here.” I raised an eyebrow, noting Wren refused to make eye contact with me.
“They’re typically full,” she deadpanned, making notes in the chart.
I took a beat to take in all that was adult Birdie—white lab coat, black turtleneck, fitted and tucked into gray pants, clogs on her feet, and no ring on her finger. She’d filled out, breasts, curves in all the right places. I couldn’t help but wonder what type of panties she was wearing.
“Tonight, eat nothing after dinner. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have you on your way to new. Back to golfing in no time.”
“That’s it. Not a moment of small talk. I can’t ask how you are? Hear what you have been up to for the last million years?” My voice was gruff with emotion. It wasn’t often I got the brush-off…maybe never…not since Wren slid out of my apartment while my dad berated me.
“I’m fine. Here I am, all grown up, a doctor. And I’m going to repair your knee, so you’ll let me be.”
“Why? Why do I have to let you be? I’ve been wanting to reach out for years. Now, I finally have you in front of me.” I sounded absurd, and there was no reason for all this crap to fly out of my mouth…
“For years? You found me now when you needed me. You could have found me any other time. Now, I’m your doctor. So whatever fantasy you’re having over reconnecting, put it far, far away.”
“I’m going to follow up with my own ortho in California, and then you won’t be my doctor. How’s that?”
This got her to look at me. I’d forgotten our chemistry and ability to lob quips back and forth. It was the most fun I’d had in a while. Considering my knee was in disrepair and my ass was in a wheelchair, that said something.
Wren’s gaze narrowed and she lasered in on my eyes. “You always had a solution, a loophole, didn’t you? Still do, huh? I bet you would have found a way to sneak around with me back then, against your father’s wishes.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. I knew what I was doing with you and golf—my eyes were on the prize. My dad underestimated what I was capable of.”
“Congrats on all your success, by the way. The Masters, the US Open, the PGA, multiple times over. Golf pro to the stars…star on television. You did it all and more.”
My pulse sped at the idea of her following my career, knowing the titles and tournaments, before sadness washed over me. We could have shared all that together —was what I wanted to say.
Instead, I went with, “Golf pro emeritus. In name only. Which means—”
“Please, don’t try to act humble. I know what it means. You win enough, they make you a pro. You won more majors than I can count, and every celebrity in Los Angeles would love to rub elbows and play golf with you, so you have a job.”
“Thanks for following my career,” I said without emotion, but my heart was beating double-time.
“I’m an ortho. Which means I work with mostly men, who are overall obsessed with golf, so it was hard not to. I’m sure any one of them would be happy to fix your knee.”
“You refused to talk with me. Brutus missed you…” I changed the direction of the conversation. “I wanted to reconnect, but I didn’t think it would be welcome. Clearly, I was right…”
She finally granted me a softer expression. “Brutus,” she whispered. Wren was a goner when it came to animals.
“Lived until he was fifteen. Was a good boy, best there ever was,” I stated.
She nodded and ran a hand through her hair, taking a moment to stop, close her eyes, and think. “I’m sure he had a great life. You were a very sweet dog owner.” It was the only positive nod she’d given to our brief time together; she’d fallen for Brutus the minute I brought her back to my luxury apartment. Usually it was all the trappings and wealth that secured the women, but not Wren.
“You wanted to be a veterinarian,” I made the mistake of saying.
Immediately, Wren’s expression went hard. “Well, I’m not one, that’s clear. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have called me to fix your knee. I did what my dad wanted, became an MD, and now I have enough money that I don’t have to speak with him. My mom died happily knowing I’d done what everyone expected. The end.”
“Wren, I’m sorry—” I started to say.
“We’re all set. See you in the morning, Daniel, before anesthesia visits you.”
She walked out of the exam room without looking back, and if I wasn’t sitting in a wheelchair with one of my legs in some sort of air support thing, I’d have kicked myself.