“Of course,” he answers smoothly, dropping a patient’s chart at the nurses’ desk before approaching us.
We nod to one another before she asks him a series of questions regarding a patient. All the while, I can feel his eyes on me, watching silently as he answers her. Oblivious to the tension, she thanks him for his time.
“Sonya, if you have a minute? There are some new board initiatives I wanted to discuss with you,” David says, surprising me.
He is lying; I am sure. But if I refuse, it will seem odd. “Of course.”
He glances at his watch. “I have one more patient to see. Why don’t we meet in my office in fifteen?” He offers the nurse a warm smile. “That will give the two of you a chance to finish up your conversation I so rudely interrupted.”
“I called you over,” she says, buying what he is selling. I want to roll my eyes, but keep the childish gesture to myself. “Thanks again, Doctor.”
“So fifteen minutes, Sonya?” he asks, leaving me no room for argument.
“I’ll meet you there.”
I arrive before he does. When I knock, there is no answer, so I wait outside, pacing the hall. I remind myself that he has no hold over me, no control, no matter what I revealed to him.
“You’re likely to wear out the floor.” He watches me as he walks down the corridor. “How are you?” he asks, reaching me.
“Great. What did you want to discuss?” I’m angry for having been manipulated into the meeting. I almost didn’t show, but I knew it was useless. At some point we would have to talk. Better now than later.
“It’ll be better in the office.” He unlocks the door and motions me in.
“Tell me,” I demand, refusing to go in. I lower my voice when I hear a door down the hall opening.
“Do you really want to do this here?” he asks, his gaze searching mine. “Where anyone can hear?”
“Fine.” I walk in, my arms crossed—my only show of self-protection. “What did you want to discuss?”
“How are you?” he asks again, shutting the door behind him.
“Like I said, great.” Anger pushes me to be impolite. “The discussion?”
“I’d like to ask you out to dinner,” he says, taking me in.
Of all the things, I never expected this. Disgust, maybe even pity, but nothing other than that. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
“Yes.”
I want to laugh, but I fear the sentiment may not go over well. “No.”
“No, I’m not asking you out on a date or no, you won’t go out with me?” he asks, his eyebrows lifted in curiosity.
“Both. You were there when I told you to leave this alone? When I asked you to let my father die, right?” I shrug my shoulders. “I could have sworn it was you.”
“It was me. Unless there are other doctors from the hospital you’re spending time on the roof with.”
He’s teasing me. If the situation weren’t so ridiculous, I would smile. “Then what are you doing?” I tell myself I don’t want the answer, I don’t need the answer, yet I wait for it.
He gets a faraway look. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind.” He grimaces. “I’ve missed you. Not great for patient care. But I know you need time.” He rubs the back of his neck, a gesture he makes when he’s under stress. “With everything you have going . . . Gia, your . . .” He catches himself. “How is she doing?”
“Hiding.” That was the update I received from Mom this morning. She called Marin at least three times a day and had stopped over repeatedly to check on her granddaughter. “From herself, the world, I guess. They are moving forward with charges.”
“Good.”
The fight goes out of me. I drop my hands and lean back against his desk. “It doesn’t bother you that I want my father dead?”
“I’m trying to understand.” He takes a step toward me. “Tell me why. Tell me about yourself. About why you and your family visit the man you hate every single day.”