Dr. Weston
THE BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB
Broadie
“Beatrice, I’m headed to the doctors’ lounge a little early. The OR asked if I could move my next case up about an hour.” I reread the text from the pre-op nurse, Patricia, stating they needed to adjust the schedule to make room for an unstable ER patient.
I make my way to the elevator, and quickly text back a reply letting Patricia know I’ll be there as soon as I can.
It’s tempting to dive right in and get things moving when there’s a crisis.
Yet, in this hospital, there’s always a crisis.
It’s best I grab something to eat before jumping headfirst into the next case.
Otherwise, I’ll likely go all day without more than a cup of coffee in my system.
I should know. I’ve worked as a general surgeon at St. Luke’s Hospital in Hanover, Virginia, for over ten years now.
After finishing residency, I was so eager to start my career that I hit the ground running and never looked back.
However, I’ve learned the hard way about the toll this career can take on you. And not just physically.
As I approach the doctors’ lounge, my eyes narrow at the large sign taped to the door. That’s odd. Coming closer, I read the bright yellow paper.
CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.
We apologize for the inconvenience.
Our physicians’ dining and office areas are overdue for a remodel.
We look forward to serving you in the main dining room until the new space is complete.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise. That doctors’ lounge has definitely seen better days.
Scratching the back of my head, I seem to recall Beatrice and Pearl, our office manager, chatting about this.
Yet I thought they were merely bantering about what might be coming in the future.
But then again, it could’ve been months ago they were having this conversation.
I admit I get fixated on my patients and the never-ending meetings I’m required to attend. These details don’t stay on my radar.
“Well well, if it isn’t the Broadie Weston. Renowned general surgeon and frequent winner of Richmond Magazine’s Annual Top Docs in Surgery award. I wouldn’t have thought you’d know the way here. Did someone escort you?” Jarod snickers.
“Ha ha. I come to the cafeteria.”
“Oh yeah? When’s the last time?”
I actually have to stop and consider this.
It’s not because I think I’m above coming here.
It’s just more convenient to run in and grab a coffee or fix something off the buffet in the doctors’ lounge before heading back to work.
Not to mention, I skip many meals. It’s the nature of the beast in this line of work.
“About six months ago, I missed lunch because a case ran long.”
“I’m just shitting with you, man. How’ve you been?”
“Good. Just busy." It’s odd, really. My close friend, Jarod Snow, and I have worked together in our practice alongside five other surgeons for years. Yet we rarely see each other unless we’re in a meeting due to our operating room schedules.
“Finished a scheduled hernia repair before completing a lumpectomy on a twenty-six-year-old.”
Jarod’s frown mirrors my concern for that sweet young woman. We try to detach emotions to these cases as often as possible, but some tug at your heartstrings. All we can do is pray the biopsy shows no sign of cancer.
“I thought I had an hour before my next case, until the OR called. They have a patient in the emergency room they’re trying to squeeze in. Thought I’d grab something before I head back.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Broadie.” Jarod shakes his head.
“What? Your schedule is as insane as mine.”
“No. It’s not. I turn cases down when it gets too much. I’ve trained people not to come at me for more. But they know you’ll do whatever it takes.”
This statement makes me pause for a moment. He’s probably right. But it’s just the way I’ve always operated. Literally. I never want to keep anyone waiting. Time can be crucial in this line of work.
“Hi, Dr. Weston,” a young brunette in navy blue scrubs greets from across the salad bar. Her smile is served with a side of flirtation.
Jarod snickers, reaching for a packet of salad dressing.
“Good afternoon,” I answer with a cordial grin as I grab what I think is a chicken salad sandwich wrapped in cellophane.
Yet, prior visits to this cafeteria have proven I could be wrong.
I have no earthly idea what this nurse’s name is and don’t want to encourage continued conversation by looking at her nametag.
Lifting the sandwich to my nose, I take a deep inhale.
It can’t be tuna. Must be chicken. What else could it be?
“Hell. I just got back from vacation with the family. I haven’t managed to get my mind in work mode. I definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your pace.”
Jarod and his wife, Mandy, have two young boys. I don’t get to see as much of him as I did when we were both single. It goes without saying that we’re always here for one another, but there simply aren’t enough hours in the day for spending bro-time outside of work.
There are days I’m jealous of his life. Coming home to a wife and kids, attending little league games. But it’s my own doing. If I want the life he has, I need to make it a priority. And I’ve already failed at it once. Not going to do that again until I’m all in.
“Oh, yeah? Where’d you go?” I ask as I examine a fruit cup and decide against it. Who am I kidding? I’ll be lucky to choke down this sandwich if I don’t’ get moving.
“Jamaica. It was amazing. But any island is that way for me. Sun, surf, and all the fresh seafood you can eat. I haven’t finished my first day back, and I’m already planning our next island getaway.”
We head to the refrigerator to get water when something grabs my attention from the corner of my eye, and I do a double take.
Who is that?
A striking blonde in a long white lab coat stands in line for the cashier.
She’s holding a plastic container and what seems to be a bottle of lemonade, staring off into space as if deep in thought.
I’m not one to be taken in easily by an attractive female, especially one who works at the same hospital.
However, something about her makes it nearly impossible to turn away.
Is she new to St. Luke’s? I’d remember meeting a woman who looks like that.
She’s probably about five foot eight. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a loose bun, allowing an unobstructed view of her slender neck.
Her skin is fair, and besides those tantalizing red lips, she doesn’t appear to be wearing much makeup.
As I continue to observe her, her face remains expressionless.
I wonder what’s going through that pretty head.
“Who is that?”
“Who?” Jarod answers, startling me. I hadn’t realized I’d asked it aloud. I watch as he follows the trajectory of my gaze. “Poppy?” His voice carries an odd tone of disbelief.
“Who?”
“Poppy. The pharmacist.”
“When did she start working here?” I reach into the glass case for a bottle of water as a chuckle rumbles behind me.
“Are you for real? Probably not long after you did. She’s worked here at least seven or eight years.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “There’s no way.”
“Yes, way. Have you been working under a rock?” He shakes his head mockingly.
“You’re ridiculous. You’re so fixated on the next case you’ve probably talked to her a dozen times and didn’t know it.
Add to it, you usually have your head buried in your phone…
or you’re talking shop to a colleague.” He laughs.
“You’ve probably sat next to her in a meeting and didn’t pay any attention. ”
Hell, am I that bad?
There’s no way I would’ve been in the same room with that gorgeous creature and not noticed her. “I usually get Frank or Marshall when I call the pharmacy. How could I have missed her all these years? Maybe she only works the evening shift.”
“Yeah. Well, they consider you a pretty big deal around here. There’s probably a sign on the wall over the phone that says to send all of your calls directly to the big dogs.”
“Whatever. I’m not a bigger deal than anyone else.”
Jarod nearly chokes on his sip of water. “Right. That’s why the administration is constantly putting on the heat to get you to take the medical director position.”
He’s not wrong. However, I’ve worked hard to build a solid practice over the last ten years.
I know the key to a successful career in medicine is compassion.
Long hours and dedication to your craft are one thing, but patients going under the knife want to feel safe.
Their concerns need to be validated. I honestly think some of my partners could stand to go back to residency.
A lot more is required of a surgeon than an expensive education and a God complex.
“Hi, Dr. Weston,” a giggly blonde dressed in white scrubs greets.
Unlike the previous nurse who said hello, this young woman’s nametag happens to be front and center. “Hi, Brittany.” Her giggles seem to intensify as I walk past her. Good grief. She’s probably my daughter’s age.
“If this is how it’s going to be every time you come to the cafeteria, could you warn me before your next visit?”
“Shut up.” I chuckle. Looking ahead as we make our way to the checkout line, I notice a radiant smile overtake Poppy’s face in response to something the cashier has said.
Jesus. She’s luminous. Unless she’s recently dyed her hair blonde, there’s not a doubt in my mind I’ve never seen this dazzling woman before.
She outshines everyone else in the room.
At this exact moment, the beauty in question turns, and our eyes connect. An electric current travels at the speed of light from her gaze to mine, my breath catches in my throat as her deep blue irises seem to penetrate right through to my soul.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Don’t even let your mind go there, man,” Jarod’s voice breaks through the silence, causing my stare to snap to his. “She won’t give you the time of day. Not about anything beyond work anyway. Don’t think several of us haven’t tried.”
My brows jump to my hairline at his admission.
“Chill. It was long before I got married. I got shut down faster than a nurse with juicy gossip.” He laughs. “But from what I hear, I’m in good company. So it didn’t hurt my ego as much as it might have otherwise.”
How has grabbing a quick bite to eat before diving into my next case turned into this?
I need to get laid. I’m sure that’s all this is.
I’m simply desperate for some female companionship.
And Poppy is undeniably beautiful. There’s no question why I or anyone else wouldn’t find her attractive.
But I know better than to consider anything with someone I work with.
I’ve never slept with a colleague or a patient. Hell, I barely slept with my wife.
My first love has always been my career. Maybe if I’d figured out early on to keep my priorities straight, I’d be vacationing in Jamaica with Camile and my daughters instead of working myself into an early grave.
“Well, hello, Dr. Weston,” a pretty surgical tech I recognize says from the line next to us.
“Good afternoon, Samantha.” I grin. Moving ahead, I scan my items as the cashier smiles, waving me through given there’s no charge for my meal.
“I’ll catch you later, Jarod. I’m going to the OR to scrub in after I finish this sandwich.
” I inspect it again questioningly, wondering if this is really a good idea.
“See ya, Broadie.”
Walking toward the surgical center, I find Poppy sitting on the other side of the glass at a bistro table in the shade, solely focused on the book before her as she lifts her bottle of lemonade to her pretty red lips. What is she reading? A mystery? A Jane Austen classic perhaps?
How is it possible that in seven or eight years I’ve never noticed her?
Am I really so focused on my work that I could’ve missed this enchanting creature?
Is she married or living with someone? Is that why she turns men away, or is she merely as committed to keeping her work and dating life separate like I am?
And the biggest question… what is it about this mysterious woman that has me so entranced?