Chapter Twenty
Wren
“ G ood morning, Mrs. Smith. How do you feel this morning?”
“Not bad. Thank you, Dr. Bianchi.”
I smiled at my patient before logging into the computer and reviewing her electronic medical record. Sixty-eight-year-old Mrs. Smith, her brown hair peppered with gray and skin slightly filled with whatever her dermatologist or plastics doc recommended, watched me with a grin. For someone who had a knee replacement the day before, she seemed awfully happy.
“Well, due to your high risk for infection, I’m glad we kept you last night, and we will hold on to you for one more night. And then you will move to a rehabilitation center for a few days. Before you know it, that knee will be back to new.”
Despite mostly seeing sports-related injuries, working with a number of notable athletes at a time, I saw older patients a few days a month for knees and hips. If I wasn’t going to be a veterinarian, I was going to do things on my own terms and help a population in need.
“Yes, I understand. They took my blood sugar this morning and it’s stable. I’m going to be ready to roll.”
Mrs. Smith battled with her weight and keeping her type 2 diabetes under control; an infection would be harder for her to battle so we were keeping a watch on it all.
“I see that,” I told her, noting her blood sugar numbers. “It’s excellent news. I understand that you’re going to rehab at a place close to your son’s house, which means you will see me in six weeks for a follow-up appointment.”
“Speaking of the devil, she is moving in right by me. At least for a bit.” A tall man around my age entered the room in a full suit and tie, Ferragamo loafers, with shiny white teeth, and a mega Rolex on his wrist. “Thad Smith.” The man turned to me, offering his hand. “Sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday. Court date, important legal stuff, you know?”
This asshole had the nerve to man-lawyer-splain me? “Your sister was here for the important surgical stuff,” I said in response. I tried to keep snark out of my bedside manner, but this jerk didn’t seem to mind my sardonic attitude.
In fact, he laughed and said, “That’s a good one. I assume my sister didn’t perform the surgical stuff since it was a success?”
“Well, yes, I took care of the surgery, and your sister was very kind with your mother,” was my response. “I was about to ask if she would be bringing your mom to her follow-up appointment.”
He didn’t say anything back, but turned and looked at his mom and said, “You were right, she’s something. Smart and smoking…”
Swallowing, I set aside being offended, fearing where this was heading.
Thad swung his gaze back to me. “Forgive me, but we should have drinks one night. My mom, who has gone mute, suggested I come by and meet you. I see why! ‘Gorgeous and smart and witty,’ I think were her exact words. And she was not wrong.”
I seemed to also have gone mute, unable to make anything float up my vocal cords.
Mrs. Smith finally piped up, adding to the mix. “And single.”
I took a moment, closed my eyes, and when I reopened them, I only looked at Mrs. Smith. “I appreciate all the compliments. It’s so nice how highly you think of me. Well enough for your son. Truly, thank you for thinking of me, but I don’t get involved with patients’ families. I’m glad to see you doing well and wish you luck at rehab. See you for your appointment.”
I left without further preamble. I should’ve told Thad it was nice to meet him or something professional, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hated being talked down to—and being fixed up, which was becoming an epidemic lately—and treated like I wasn’t an individual. I’d escaped decades of that type of treatment from my parents, and I was never allowing it from anyone else.
Although another woman would consider saying she wasn’t single, offering up that she was dating someone, I didn’t know if one post-operative New Year’s celebration and two weekend visits counted as that. Did it?
Looking at my watch, I noted it was after six in the morning on the West Coast, and soon I would receive my good morning text from Daniel, my not-boyfriend, who happened to be visiting this coming weekend. Something about site selection for a golf scene back east and my good friend, Peter , as he put it. I’d taken one golf lesson from the guy, and Daniel held a personal vendetta against him.
“Dreaming of this weekend?” Genie strolled by in the hallway.
“Regina.” I grumbled her name. Giving her a glare, I went on. “Sadly no, I’m just coming down from narrowly being forced into another fix-up, with a guy named Thad.” The last part came out on a whisper.
“Another one? You should wear a wedding band. I mean, it’s only a matter of time with your Scot, and this would shut down all these fix-ups.”
My phone buzzed and I had no idea who it was, but I took advantage of the moment and said, “Gotta go. This time, I’m getting close to firing you. Better look for a new job…”
She laughed. If there was one thing Genie knew, it was that she was indispensable. Must be nice…
My doorbell rang on Thursday night and I opened it up to Daniel and his suitcase.
Rourke didn’t waste a second, jumping all over Daniel in a way I wanted to. But it was considered unacceptable for me to beg that way. “Hi,” I breathed.
“Hi,” he said, ushering me inside before leaning in and giving me a kiss.
When we finally broke free, Daniel leaned down and put Rourke out of his misery, picking him up and fluffing the hair on top of his head.
“Hey, tough guy, haven’t you ever heard of ladies first?” Rourke stuck his tongue out. “I’m thinking he doesn’t care about chivalry,” Daniel said.
“Apparently not,” I agreed.
Noting Daniel’s black track pants and long-sleeved Lululemon shirt paired with sneakers, I decided he looked hot in leisure wear.
“Whatever has that look on your face, I hope to keep repeating it,” he said, setting Rourke down and gathering me close.
“Hungry?” That was how I responded.
“No. Thirsty, yes.”
“Come on,” I said, walking to the kitchen. “Leave your bag.”
When Daniel had told me he was coming back east, he’d mentioned, I’m going to skip the hotel and stay with you, okay?
Of course , I’d said, smiling to myself on my end of the phone.
Now, as I poured Daniel a water, I wondered how we got to this juncture—from college crush to romantic houseguest. But there was not much time to think on it as I asked, “Wine? Beer? Scotch?”
“Scotch,” Daniel said, grabbing his own tumbler. “I’m going to get the elephant in the room out of the way…”
“There’s an elephant?” One second, I was daydreaming over what might be next with this man, and then whoosh, there was a roadblock…
“Ryan is here…with an entourage. Which means there is a lot of paparazzi. And as you know, they’ve announced I’m starring in the film.”
So far, I didn’t see a problem, but I poured myself a wine while listening to Daniel.
“As soon as we set out to look at the club tomorrow, they will be following us, and so that means anything you and I do can be photographed.”
I felt myself nodding.
“What I’m saying is our relationship is about to be public unless we hide here. And even then, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“We are in a relationship?” Like an absolute novice, that was what I said, running my hand through my hair and pulling it back, feeling hot. In the moment, I wished I’d worn a tank top rather than the cashmere sweater I had on.
Daniel set down his drink now and took a step closer to me.
“This feels like déjà vu. How many times you’ve walked toward me, in this very room, Rourke on your heels…”
He stopped and looked at me. “Exactly. Like in a relationship.” He closed the gap and held me close, his breath tickling my cheek. “It’s unusual and not swipe-right kind of stuff, but we are in a relationship, Birdie. I don’t have a problem with thinking or saying it or letting anyone know it. My ex loved the notoriety that came with being associated with me, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with the idea of it.”
I could only make out one word. “Uncomfortable?”
“With the paps. They will investigate you. Your background, what you do for a living, where you went to school. They will find out we previously knew one another, call this premeditated on your part, seeking me out after I made it big, and they’ll examine every facet of your life.”
“I may not be famous, but I made it big too, you know? I’m a female surgeon. I treat most of the professional athletes around here…”
“Of course I know.” This time his lips tickled my cheek. “They will make assumptions and create lies. I just don’t want you to take any of it personally. It’s not unrealistic that they will also find out you operated on me. I’m prepared to take the fall and say I sought you out—which is the truth.”
My mouth found his. I didn’t know how to answer—truthfully, I was stuck on the relationship part. Our lips mashed, tongues clashing for a while until I broke free.
“I’m fine with any of it. Genie will eat it up. She’ll probably decorate my personal office with anything written about me. The only part that sucks is my parents. I assume I should warn them, even though we don’t talk much.”
His hand came around the nape of my neck and I looked up at him. “Probably. They will likely bother them too. Blame Ryan. He brings the heat everywhere he goes—”
“I could never be mad at Ryan,” I joked.
“Exactly, that’s how he gets away with all that he does. Lucky bloke .”
After the air was cleared, we got back to kissing, eventually making our way to the bedroom, temporarily forgetting the paparazzi.