"Since I don't want to waste it," I said with a heavy note of faux reluctance as I sat up. "Thanks,Hartshorn."
He waved me off, uncomfortable and uninterested in acknowledgement. He wasn't great with appreciation or recognition or feelings ofanysort.
"Your residents are in top form this week," he said. "I was listening in this morning while one of them caught an inflamed gallbladder that the ER attending was discharging as acid reflux. It was an interesting presentation and I can see how the attending missed it, but the best part was your resident wasn't a dick about the wholething."
Now that was a blessing. Most surgical residents were under the impression they were contractually required to be dicks at alltimes.
"That's what I like about you," Nick said, wagging a chip at me. "Even when you're hooking up with an asshole and having a bad week, you keep your shit together and your residents on track. You don't take your problems out onpeople."
"I never said I was hooking up with him," I objected, but I couldn't force any sincerity into mywords.
"I read between the pissed-off lines," Nick replied. "I know Riley, and I know he has some, ah, ongoingissues."
Like being anasshole.
Cal jerked his chin toward me. "What'sgoingon?"
I picked up the sandwich and shook my head. "It's nothing. I went to Rhode Island with a guy. As it turns out, he's an asshole. End ofstory."
But that wasn't the end of the story. With every passing day, the sting of Riley's silence intensified. We'd become friends in the past two months, and even if getting in bed together had been the wrong turn, I deserved more than this. I was no expert, but I was certain he'd enjoyed himself in that bed. It wouldn't kill him to send more than some blasé texts with boilerplateapologies.
We hadn't agreed on any provisions for incredibly good sex followed by incredibly awkward tension when this started in August. But it wasn't about the arrangement anymore. We'd long since exceeded the terms, and we couldn't blame that construct for the events last weekend. No.Hellno.
If I was being honest with myself—really,reallyhonest—I could admit that I was hurt, and it was more than some wounded pride. I'd thought there was something between us. Something significant. I'd allowed myself to believe that Riley had climbed over the wreckage left by previous relationships and found it in him to reach out for more…withme.
I could also admit that, just once, I wanted to be the one. Maybe not theforeverone, but at least therightnowone.
Cal studied me while he ate his half of the sandwich, his eyes narrowed and brow arched as if he was piecing together aresponse.
"At least you have the Chief off your back," he said. He wasn't quick to reply, much like Riley, but when he did, his words were meaningful. "Right?"
I lifted a shoulder. "Somewhat," I said. I wasn't in a glass-half-full mood. "He observed a laparotomy yesterday, and when he critiqued my surgical posture—again—he was kind enough to do itprivately."
"That's an improvement," Nick said, his lips bending into a lopsided smile. "It's a game of inches,Emmerling."
"You're feeding into it if you let him bother you," Cal said. "He knows you're one of the best. He also knows you want to bethebest. That's why he nudges you on every little thing. Don't you think he'd be the first one to say it if there was more to criticize about your work than yourposture?"
"You make it sound like he's doling out tough love. He spends his evenings knitting a noose of rumors and dangles it in front of me every time the mood strikes," Iargued.
Cal snickered as he balled up the sandwich wrappings. "He's got an old school Puritan streak, that I won't deny," he said. "But you can't give a shit about any of that. Know that you're good and don't give a fried fuck aboutanythingelse."
"Is that another Oregonian specialty? The fried fuck?" Nick asked. "Or is it one of those local treasures, like steamers and Fluffernutters? Maybe, if we're lucky, there'll be fried fuck on the menu Friday night. I hear the Four Seasons has an excellentpreparation."
Oh,shit.Shit.
"This fucking gala," I said with an exaggerated sigh. "Since I brought the asshole to the Chief's party a few weeks ago, it's not like I can bribe the coffee cart guy to go with me. Not unless I want to play another round ofOhh, She's aWhore."
Cal glared at Nick, ignoring me. "Is your wife traveling again?" he asked. "You get real punchy when she's outoftown."
Nick tipped back his water bottle and drank deeply. "She's been in the Bay Area all week. She'll be back Friday afternoon," he said. "We might ditch the fundraiser. We have some marital business to catch up on, so y'all will need to report back about the friedfucks."
I gaped at Nick from across the table. "If you're not going, neither am I. The last thing I want to do is show up to this eventalone."
Cal pointed at me with his water bottle. "The head of GI surgery is retiring in a year or two, and I'm teeing you up to replace him," he said. "You're going to thisthing."
All of that was news to me. Everything from the retirement to the idea of staying at this hospital beyond the next fewmonths.
"I just don't want to go alone," Igrumbled.
