Chapter 3 Beth
Mortification burns through me as I make my way quickly down the hall. I try not to think about what just happened because if I do, I just might melt or die of embarrassment.
God, of all the people to catch Zach and me together about to kiss, it just had to be Aaron.
I press my hand to my cheek and move faster, trying very hard not to think about it. But I do, anyway. What terrible timing.
Not that I thought working in the same hospital with my ex would be a bed of roses, but I never foresaw this happening either. Especially since Aaron ignored my existence since I started working here.
I remember the first day we ran into each other, after about a month or so of me working on the Emergency Floor.
I was walking down the halls just like this one, reading a chart to myself and trying to make sense of the new jargon, when I nearly bumped into someone.
Luckily, I caught myself in time as their shoes came into view and side-stepped them before the collision, muttering, “Excuse me,” out of the corner of my mouth.
I continued on my way, but before I took ten steps, a voice behind me said, “Beth?”
I froze. The voice was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that it triggered a waterfall of reaction within me. My heart raced, and my palms got sweaty. Pain pierced through my chest, as well as a longing so visceral that it almost felt physical.
I slowly spun around, his shocked face drawing my eyes naturally. “Aaron.”
His face convulsed just a little, and his eye twitched as he stared at me.
I swallowed and drank him like I’d been in the desert for months without water.
Aaron was my only water for the longest time, the only thing keeping me sane, especially towards the end of the relationship.
He was my crutch. That was why I had to let him go, so the same nightmares that plagued me wouldn't reach him.
And now I stared at him, at those intense brown eyes that could be so soft and warm, that stern expression that hides his gentle soul, and those lips that claimed mine so masterfully, yet so softly that I couldn't resist falling in love with him.
And right then and there, I wanted to run to him and beg his forgiveness, beg him to take me back, but I didn’t do any of that. Instead, I pasted a mildly friendly look on my face and said in an insipidly casual tone, “Hey. How has it been?”
“How has it been?” Aaron's voice was carefully stripped of emotion, but I could sense the undercurrent of anger and, behind that, the hurt. I hated the hurt most of all. “Did you just ask me that?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, clutching the pad to my chest to hide my racing heartbeat.
“Are you doing okay?” The words were choked out of my throat, and they sounded completely wrong for the situation.
Are you doing okay? That was something you asked an old acquaintance that you hadn’t seen in a couple of months. Or old friends at a college reunion.
It wasn't something you told the love of your life, who you abandoned without thought four years ago.
At least, that was how he would see it.
And honestly, I'd much rather he see it that way. I'd rather he hate me for that than know the truth.
Aaron was quiet for a few seconds. His eyes snagged mine, blazing with rage and pain and likely a billion questions he had for me.
And then, in a snap, it was gone. His expression was completely devoid of all that, all the emotion retreating behind that mask that he’s so good at erecting.
He turned around and left without another word, and he hadn't spoken to me since.
I’ve seen Aaron around a few times, mostly when he comes down to the emergency department to see a patient, but he never interacts with me. When he comes to the nurse’s station, he treats me like I’m air, even if we’re the only people there.
And even though I know I deserve all his scorn, it still stings.
I finally stopped at the end of the hall to catch my breath and get my bearings before I had to take the urine sample again.
At least one good thing came out of Aaron's interruption. It prevented me from making a huge mistake by kissing Zach.
That would have been disastrous, no doubt because it likely wouldn't have ended with a kiss. Feeling the way I felt, I would have dragged Zach to the floor and fucked him with the door unlocked where anyone could have walked in.
Just thinking about the possibility makes me shudder.
I've worked so hard to build a stellar reputation in this hospital, and I could have jeopardized all that in just one afternoon. And even if no one had caught us, it still wasn't a good idea to kiss Zach. I can’t start a relationship with someone in the hospital, casual or otherwise, especially not with Aaron there. I just don’t feel right doing it, almost like I'm rubbing my betrayal in Aaron's face.
Plus, if things go left between me and Zach — and I tend to blow up my relationships — I will then have two exes at work that I must awkwardly avoid.
Just for what? A few minutes of mind-blowing sex.
Not worth the trouble at all.
And if my hormones don't agree, then that's their damn problem.
I just need to focus on doing my work and going home. That’s all.
I turn around the corner to head towards room forty-five just as the charge nurse, Pamela Jenkins, is coming out of it.
She frowns at me. “What are you doing back here? The results are out already?”
“No. There was a little accident with the urine sample,” I gesture with the cup that I‘m still holding for whatever strange reason. I toss it in the trash and reach for the nearest wall hand sanitizer dispenser, getting a few pumps. “I'll need to get more urine.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“I spilled it,” I admit.
Pam's frown deepened, and she sighed heavily as though I’d just given her the worst news in the world. “Really? How on earth did you manage that? How fucking careless of you?”
I flinch. Yes, what I did was careless, but her reaction, with the swearing, was a bit much. Most of us have those fumbles here and there, and I've never seen her make this big of a deal about it with any of the other nurses.
Or does she just have it in for me, as I suspected? Lately, I feel like she's been keeping an eye on me more than any other new hire, even following me to a few patients' rooms sometimes to make sure I'm 'doing everything right.'
“We don't have an endless supply of materials at this hospital,” Pam continues, scolding. “And if you're going to keep being clumsy, you're going to cost us a lot of money.”
Oh yeah? And how much does a urine cup retail for like thirty bucks? I'll give you that right now.
But I don't say any of that. That was what the old Beth would say.
New Beth knows how to watch her tongue and keep the peace.
“Sorry,” I say instead. “It won’t happen again.”
“You bet your ass it won’t. And you better believe I’m taking this incident to the HR.”
Really? Crying over spilled urine?
“Sure,” I say and wait for her to pass before I mutter something under my breath.
But it's unfortunately not the last I hear from Pamela Jenkins that whole day.
When I sit at my desk, I notice her watching me out of the corner of her eyes, saying something to the nurse seated beside her.
I choose to ignore them and focus on work, but she doesn't stop bothering me then either.
A few times, she attempts to send me on errands while I'm busy with my primary tasks and then glares at me if I don't jump to do her bidding.
But of course, it all comes to a head toward the end of the workday when I'm trying to think of what to make for dinner today, and her hand slams on my table.
I blink at her.
“Looks like your mind was far away,” she says in that sugary sweet tone with a hint of mockery. “What were you thinking?”
“Nothing important,” I tell her. “Did you need something?”
“Yes. I need you to focus on your work. And not make mistakes in your chart.”
Are you policing thoughts now? “What mistakes?”
She placed the iPad in front of me, showing me a chart of a patient I had just discharged. “Does that look right to you? You noted the patient under the code U649 when she came in with a stomach bug. The U classification is strictly for viral illnesses.”
“Oh, I see the confusion,” I point out. “It's actually done correctly. It's just that the new system groups all infections under the same code, both viral and bacterial. It was the only way I could prescribe antibiotics.”
“Is that so?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously.
“Um, yeah. You can check with med tech if you don't believe me. I'm sure they would be happy to explain it to you.”
Pam's face reddens a little, and she straightens it with a dignified sniff. “I see.”
And with that, she turns on her heel and leaves without an apology.
I roll my eyes at her back. “I wish you would spend less time on my ass and more time learning the actual code book,” I mutter.
Nancy, the nurse I share a desk with sometimes, chuckles. “You should tell her that next time.”
“And start World War 3?” I give her a look like she's crazy. “No, I very much like my peace of mind, thank you.”
The last thing I need to do is to make waves here. I’m trying to keep my head down, do my job, and avoid too much attention.
“She's just mad because everyone thinks you should be the charge nurse instead of her,” Nancy says.
“Who said that?”
“Everyone,” she says. “Tati from HR says you're the best nurse they've hired in years, and everyone thinks you'll replace her in a couple of months.”
“Nah. Pam has worked here for years, and I may not like her, but she's a pretty good nurse.”
“Don't get me wrong, she's not bad with the patient care aspect of it,” Nancy says. “But she struggles to adjust to all the new technology we get all the time. Plus, she's nearly at the age to retire.”
“Please. She's only fifty. That's still young. And I think she's a good charge nurse.” Just because I don't necessarily like the way she treats me doesn't mean I can't admit that much. “She just seems to have a bone to pick with me for whatever reason.”
“That’s true,” Nancy admits.
And after the long day of being harassed by Pam and memories of almost kissing Zach, I finally get to go home in the late evening.
“You look exhausted,” my best friend and roommate Rachel says as I walk through the door of our apartment.
She's in her PJs by the stove, cooking some mac and cheese after probably just getting out of bed.
Rachel works as a product manager online, and her hours are pretty flexible throughout the week, so she gets to work from home in comfortable clothes.
And even though I know I would hate to do what she does, I've never been more jealous of her than at that moment.
“I am exhausted,” I admit.
“You should take a day off,” Rachel suggests.
I shake my head, but before I can respond, a loud, childish sound cries out and reverberates through the apartment, “Mommy, you're back!”
I open my arms for the incoming bullet of a little girl who shoots out of my bedroom and launches herself into my arms. I hold her tight, inhale her childlike scent, and remind myself that she is who I really do all this for.
End of preview. Continue reading Baby for the Doctors here.