“I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know how it will feel when I’m not hanging on by a thread anymore because you’re my resident, and the last thing I want to do is cross that line.” She smoothed her hands up and down her legs several times like she needed that repetition to put the words in order. “What if we spend a night together and realize it’s not the same as it was at the wedding? Or we get it out of our system? What happens when the pressure of this situation is gone? What if all this tension dissolves and there’s nothing left?”
I wasthisclose to telling her all of those questions were bullshit. Instead, I said, “I don’t think it works that way.”
“How do you know?”
“Are you asking for evidence? For hard facts and proof? I don’t have any of that, Whit, but I did sleep next to you on Friday night—fully dressed, I might add—and all I could think about was how much I wanted to do it again. Even if it meant sleeping in jeans.”
Whit didn’t say anything and I knew she wasn’t convinced. I didn’t know what I could do to fix that. We just had to wait.
The flight wasquick and the driver who met us at the airport managed to navigate rush hour like a pro, delivering us to the hospital earlier than expected. That was pretty much a miracle where Boston traffic was concerned.
When we reached the surgical wing, we found Cami, Tori, and Reza waiting outside the OR with Dr. Copeland.
“Salas wants y’all to scrub in with her,” Cami said to us, her gaze locked on the ice chest.
“You’re not allowed to be disappointed,” Tori said to her. “There will be another princess.”
“Really? How many princesses come through here each year?” Cami replied.
“More than you’d think,” Whit said. “Go on up to the gallery. This is one to watch.”
Once we joined Salas in the OR, she said, “Right on time. How are my lungs looking?”
“Beautiful,” Whit said. “Though the team retrieving the heart tried my patience.”
Even though my job was to shut up and stay out of the way, I said, “Dr. Aldritch retrieved the heart for them.”
“That’s why we send her,” Salas replied. “She knows how to kick all the right asses.”
“I was very nice,” Whit said.
“I’m sure you were, honey. Just like I’m sure they’re questioning their entire careers right now.” Salas beamed. “Let’s get started.”
It wasafter midnight when we finished the procedure. I didn’t say it, but it was understood that I was walking Whit home.
“It was nice operating with you today,” I said as we crossed the street.
“It was nice,” she agreed. And then— “I’d like you to work on thinking through the entire series of moves you’re making before you make them. If you’re doing that, you won’t have to stop and orient yourself as often. You’ll be?—”
“More efficient. Yep. Already on it.”
I felt her staring at me as we walked toward Temple Street. “Does it bother you? When I give you these notes?”
“Not at all. It impresses the hell out of me that you’re so fucking good. You’re an excellent surgeon and an excellent teacher, and most of the surgeons I’ve met aren’t both. But you can spot these small, specific issues from the other side of the OR, as we saw in Vermont, and you know exactly how to fix them. The only thing that bothers me is that I’m not improving fast enough.”
“You’re improving,” she said, though it sounded a little reluctant. “I saw it today. You’re better than you were with the chicken.”
“Thanks for letting me work with you. I know Salas didn’t give you much of a choice?—”
“I had a choice,” she said. “I could’ve insisted on Copeland. Salas would’ve gone along with that if I pushed.”
“Then I guess I should thank you for letting me come along. First and last time operating with you.”
“I like the sound of that. Especially the part about it being the last time.”
She reached for my hand as we turned onto Temple. Something cracked wide open in my chest and I couldn’t hide my smile. It felt like a giant billboard with bright, gleaming lights proclaiming,This woman. This one right here.
At her door, she said, “I’d invite you up, but I think we both know what would happen.”
