12. Marcus
12
MARCUS
T he first thing I did when I got to the hospital was check the schedule. I needed to know if Emma and I were going to be in close quarters this morning. I wanted to have a talk with her before we did anything else. She deserved… something from me. I didn’t know if it was an apology or an explanation.
Yes, we had gotten a little too carried away in our need to seek solace in the face of extreme grief. And it was extreme grief. Losing a patient is always hard, but losing a child—patient or not—always seemed next to impossible.
I didn’t want her to think she was alone, but I also wanted her to know that I knew what happened last night did not need to be repeated. Not that I would say no if the opportunity arose. That woman was highly skilled in all aspects of her life, and I would take any and all attention she wanted to send my way.
I knew this wasn’t the beginning of something, a situationship, or even a relationship. Even though part of me wished it were.
I let out a breath of relief when I saw that she was scheduled for office hours and not ER time. Well, I was on the morning schedule for the ER. We could deal with our issues later.
Compared to the night before, the morning was relatively quiet, if not exactly drama-free.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped that we might run into each other at an opportune moment to have a brief conversation. I did want to check on her, to see how she was feeling. Last night had been rough, and I wasn’t talking about the situation we had managed to throw ourselves into. But our paths didn’t cross—at least not to my knowledge. She could have been avoiding me for all I knew, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t blame her if that were the case.
She wasn’t so young that she hadn’t lost patients before. That didn’t make it easier by any stretch of the imagination. But she had seemed so shaken up, so vulnerable. Damn it, I should have known better. I let my dick do the thinking in the name of compassion. I knew she didn’t want entanglements at work. So why the hell had I gone and entangled us?
The answer was simple—purely selfish motivations. I wasn’t thinking about anybody but myself. I wasn’t thinking about Emma. I said I was, but in reality, that was just a cop-out. I certainly wasn’t thinking about my kids. What would they say?
They would say I was betraying their mother. How dare I bring another woman home? Why was I thinking about bringing Emma home? Because I was trying to convince myself that this was a one-time deal, something I never wanted to consider happening again.
And I knew, with every misguided cell in my body, that was a lie. What had happened between Emma and me last night should not have happened the way it did. But the truth was, I wanted it. I had wanted her.
When she clung to me as if she wanted me, as if she needed me, I took advantage of that.
I had to own my mistakes. With resignation, I decided to stop avoiding what I needed to do and headed down to her office on my next break.
The door was closed. I sucked in a breath and braced myself before knocking. I didn’t know what to expect.
Would she be apologetic? Not that she had anything to apologize for. Would she be angry? That was a reasonable expectation. Would she be dismissive and try to pretend it was nothing?
If she pretended it was nothing, I would follow her lead and also pretend it was nothing. But if she cried, clung to me, or responded as if there had been something… that it was not nothing… I didn’t know if I had it in me to resist her. Especially when I wanted her with a bone-deep need.
I hadn’t felt this conflicted over my emotions in years. These raw feelings were so old they were practically new again.
I stood there for a good long while, waiting for her to say something, tell me to come in, tell me to go away—anything. But there was no response from the other side of her office door.
“Emma?” I called.
I knocked again before testing the latch, but the door was firmly locked. She wasn’t in. I was almost relieved. As I turned to leave, I heard her call my name.
“Marcus.”
I had to get used to this feeling I got every time she said my name. It was almost foreign, the way my breath caught in my chest. For God’s sake, I was an adult. I wasn’t a teenager with newly formed hormones that didn’t know what to do.
She stalked down the hallway toward me. There was the slightest sway to her hips as she moved. It wasn’t an intentional wiggle, but it triggered memories in my body of how she had moved against me. My balls clenched and I had to fight the urge to crush her against me and taste her mouth again.
“Emma…” I cleared my throat. “Dr. Chen,” I corrected myself, setting what I hoped was the appropriate tone. I wasn’t here to claim her as my mate like some caveman—thought that is clearly what my libido wanted. I was here to assure her that I would accept her decisions on what to do next after our encounter. “I wanted to see how you were doing this morning.”
She practically laughed as she shook her head.
“That seems to be on everybody’s mind today. I have a pile of paperwork, as I’m sure you’re aware, that needs completing.”
I nodded. I had to fill out the same reports.
“I wanted to check on you, though. Last night?—”
“Last night didn’t happen,” Emma bit out.
“Last night was…” I stammered.
She unlocked her office door and tilted her head, indicating I should step inside. She closed the door behind us.
I wanted to hold her in my arms, brush the stray strands of hair away from her brow, touch her in any way I could. That was not this conversation, as much as I would have liked it to be. Emma’s body language and tone made it very clear that was not going to be this conversation.
She stepped in close, her voice low.
“Let’s get something cleared up right now.”
I nodded.
“Last night was a tragic loss of a patient,” she said.
I nodded in agreement.
“And the comforting of a colleague,” she continued.
My eyebrows went up.
“Last night did not happen,” she clarified. “In other words, last night did not happen at all.”
I nodded sharply. “I agree.”
“Last night was difficult,” she said, her tone professional. “And as far as I’m concerned, we handled everything appropriately.”
I nodded again.
“Professionally,” she added, her words clipped.
I understood that my presence was no longer required in her office.
“Emma—”
“Yes, Dr. Walker?”
The use of my title instead of my name made it clear how she wanted to proceed.
“Sorry, Dr. Chen. I just wanted to let you know that, should you need someone to talk to about last night’s surgery, I’m available for you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Walker, but I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m not sure if you were made aware when you were brought on to staff, but the administration has an on-staff counselor for our needs. Should you need to speak with anyone about the situation in regard to the patient, I can recommend that you head out to Terry Goldman. You can find her in the staff directory. I don’t think you and I need to further discuss last night. We were both there during the procedure, so our reports will be very similar. It’s not as if we need to get our stories straight, do we?”
I narrowed my eyes briefly. Her insinuation was very clear. There was no wrongdoing in the operating room, and we didn’t need to cover any misdeeds that resulted in the patient’s death. And that was it. The moments between us, if they were to be mentioned, ended after a brief moment of mutual support.
“No. No, we don’t,” I said.
She gave me a clipped nod, and I left her office.
So, we would act as if nothing had occurred between us and go back to being professionally distant.
It wasn’t the most ideal outcome, in my opinion. I would have liked to have continued pursuing this attraction between us, taken her out to dinner, and had a conversation that didn’t involve work.
I smiled to myself as I stepped away from her office. I may not be able to take her out socially, but we were still going to be working closely together on the intake protocols.
There was still an opportunity to win her over.