My cell phone rang in the pocket of my coat as I headed for the cafeteria in the hospital. I was inducing two women today and rounding on the bedrest of a third. I’d expected to go into the office for appointments first thing this morning, have my coffee, and get things moving before I headed over here, but one of the babies didn’t like my plan.
Sarah Jeffries was in active labor; she’d come in about three hours ago, and I’d just gone in and broken her water to try to keep her dilation progressing. She’d stalled out around five centimeters, and even though she’d had an epidural, she still wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of being in labor for all of eternity.
I checked the screen quickly and saw that it was the number of the office.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dr. Cummings. Load-y just called in to say she’s running five minutes late. Something about the subway and a banana. I don’t know. She never makes much sense to me.”
I shook my head at Melissa’s theatrics. “Fine. Just send her over to the hospital when she gets in. We’ve got one in active labor and another induction in two hours.”
“Okay. Will do.”
“Great. Thanks.”
This would be Melody’s first day at the hospital with me, but I’d done some searching—cough, research—once I’d met her, about her past experience.
That’s not creepy, right?
I guess it wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t done it for more personal reasons than professional. I couldn’t help it, though. I couldn’t get the picture of her out of my head. But at least half the time, she was clothed. That’s something, right?
Anyway, she’d been working as a night shift labor and delivery nurse for the last five years, so I had no doubts she could handle being thrown right into the hospital fire.
Hell, she was probably dying for a little excitement after being confined to the office with Melissa and Marlene for three weeks.
The cafeteria was already bustling with the breakfast crowd when I stepped inside, but I had only one thing in sight. Coffee shone like a beacon on the far wall, radiating its energizing brilliance as though a Columbian with a donkey stood beside it, so I kept my head down and avoided eye contact to ease my passage.
The last thing I needed was to have some kind of interaction or discussion about me or the show or any-fucking-thing before I guzzled about a gallon.
Victory sounded inside my head as I made it there without incident and yanked a cup from the stack. Glorious heat spread through my palm as my cup filled with the hot liquid, and the smell of full brain function and better decisions made me smile.
I was just reaching for the jug of milk when I made the mistake of looking up and across the room.
Damn. Spotted.
Scott Shepard beamed at the sight of me, and then he wasted no time following it with his distinctive, playful boom. “Will Cummings!”
I smiled in spite of myself. Scott’s brand of fun was contagious. He flirted with life—and everything female within it—with a fervor I could only dream of. If I was a player in the game, he was the whole damn team.
I didn’t yell back, though. I waited for him to make his way across the room and get within a respectable distance before opening my own mouth.
See? Notwithstanding all of the evidence to the contrary, I’m a respectable human being.
“Scott,” I greeted with a handshake.
His mocking smile made me want to punch him in the fucking stomach. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Touchy, touchy. Someone’s in a bad mood.”
“Just you wait,” I grumbled, using a little red straw to stir the milk in my coffee. “You will be too.”
He laughed. Na?ve prick. “You’re assuming everyone is as good at looking like an asshole as you are.” He reached out and jostled me by the shoulder patronizingly. “You really are the best.”
“Oh, no, Scott,” I disagreed magnanimously, a hand to my chest. “I assure you, as much as the rest of us try, we’ll never top you in the asshole department. Just ask Mandy. And Sarah. And Monica.”
For the first time during our encounter, he started to look a little less than sure of himself. The smug smile still held, but his level of confidence wavered. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t like hurting women, even if he’d done it so much he could make a living out of it.
“I guess you really are in a bad mood.”
Fuck. Now I feel bad.
“Sorry, Scott. Just…with the show and everything…and I haven’t had my coffee.” I held up my full cup as evidence. “I guess you’re right. I am the biggest asshole.”
His signature smirk came back with a vengeance. “Well, at least you recognize it now.” He patted me on the back and made his exit before I could say anything else.
Fucker. Always tricking me into apologizing when he was the real schmuck.
I swallowed a mouthful of hot coffee as I watched him go, but it didn’t come without consequences.
“Oh, fuck!” I whisper-yelled, grabbing my throat as that shit burned me all the way from the tip of my tongue to my stomach.
Obviously, it was one of those days.
Just as I pushed my way out the door of the cafeteria, a familiar back turned the corner up the hall, and for once, he didn’t look like he was rushing from one surgery to the next.
“Nick,” I called to get his attention. He turned around at the sound of my voice, but he didn’t stop walking. Still, I didn’t need him to be fully immobile to catch the look on his face.
Oh, shit. He did not look happy to see me.
I liked Nick. He was a good guy, if a little serious, and deviously brilliant when it came to neurosurgery. I didn’t want to be on his shit list.
I broke into a jog to catch up to him.
“Nick, hold up.”
“No, Will. I don’t feel like talking. I don’t feel like commiserating over your fallen reputation, and I don’t feel like forgiving you for talking me into this mess.” He shook his head, the ends of his mouth turned down, all while I jogged along next to him. He was still walking.
Jesus. How long are his legs?
He finally turned and came to a stop to look me in the eye after another fifty feet of jogging on my part, and he did it with a heavy sigh. “Winnie already called. She’s worried about my episodes and what they’ll mean for Lexi. She already has enough trouble fitting in as it is.”
Winnie was a badass doctor and a woman I’d worked under for most of my residency. But now she was the team physician for the professional football team, the New York Mavericks, and married to Wes Lancaster, one of my brother-in-law’s best friends. But she was also Nick’s ex from way back and the mother of his daughter, Lexi.
I wouldn’t want her to have my balls in a vise either. Especially not when seeing my kid was the item at stake.
“I didn’t know… I had no idea it would be like this, man. I’m sorry.”