“Good morning, Mr. Campbell.” A short brunette with a warm smile greeted me. She held the door as the hospital volunteer wheeled me into the office.
“Genie?” I asked from my wheelchair, wishing I was standing for what was about to come. Alas, I wouldn’t be here if I was able to stand without doing worse damage.
“The one and only. Glad to see they were able to get you herediscreetly.” She winked, and I nodded.
After Genie found an opening in Wren’s schedule and penciled me in, she spoke with my attending and sent for my X-rays, stating that Dr. Bianchi would have to look at the tear herself. One day later, she called back, letting me know that, in fact, I needed surgery.
Duh.
Ryan Strauss—my friend, and America’s sweetheart on the big screen and bad boy when he wasn’t—had his agent arrange for a private transport. And here I was, in Boston, seated in a wheelchair, my leg propped up in front of me. And hopefully, moments away from seeing Birdie. Just thinking about it made me take pause… This was not how I envisioned this reunion, yet it was about to happen.
“As a protocol, we need to do a consult today. And then tomorrow Dr. Bianchi will do the operation. Of course, she’s seen all the notes and spoken with your doctor in New Hampshire. But Wren likes to do things by the book.”
“Oh, I know she does.”
“One of these days I want to hear more about all that,” Genie leaned forward and said near my ear. “Your friend’s agent also arranged for an overnight stay here at the hospital. Must be nice to have friends in high places. After the surgery tomorrow, if all goes well, you’ll be discharged to a rehabilitation place, which is also a favor. You will get additional PT and we’ll try to get you back to sunny California before too long.”
“Ryan, as you know, is here filming. And I’m not telling you anything proprietary, but there are insurance riders on actors. What you didn’t hear from me is his didn’t include backcountry skiing. We had a guide, and luckily Ryan didn’t get hurt. But for the sake of everyone involved, we are trying not to highlight anything about the ski trip or my mishap.”
“You’re a good friend,” she said, finally wheeling me into an office room.
“That’s Hollywood for you. We are our own bubble, and what happens there, stays there… Or what happens in New Hampshire…”
As luck would have it, Genie and I were sharing a laugh whenshewalked in.
“Good morning, Mr. Campbell,” was how she welcomed me. I hadn’t seen her in close to half my life, and her beauty took my breath away. Sadly, she’d polished up her professional demeanor for me. I’d prefer to be greeted like a long-lost lover…
My eyes followed her across the room and drank her in. She’d turned into a beautiful woman, as I’d imagined she would. Chestnut hair framed her face, long lashes flickered over her eyes, and her lips were outlined in a red gloss. The breath whooshed out of my chest as an avalanche of memories fell on me. Ours had been the briefest time period, yet the most meaningful in my life.
“Birdie,” I whispered.
“I’ll take it from here, Regina,” Wren spoke firmly.
With a frown on her face, I could tell the physician’s assistant left begrudgingly.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said as soon as we were alone.
“Let’s keep this professional, okay? You’re here, just like you willed it, so let’s get you fixed up.” Wren sifted a hand through her curls, and then turned a screen to show me my X-ray.
Without any pleasantries, she pointed toward the tear and went on about the repair and recuperation. I’d heard most of it in New Hampshire before I concocted this plan to finally see Birdie.
“Normally, you would go home after a few hours. But you have friends in high places, so it seems you’ll be discharged to rehab, after yet another pricey overnight here, for a few weeks of recuperation and physical therapy. You’ll be able to fly back to the West Coast right after the new year and finish your physio there…and life will go back to normal for you. I expect a full recovery.”
“I understand there is a rehab here.” I raised an eyebrow, noting Wren refused to make eye contact with me.
“They’re typically full,” she deadpanned, making notes in the chart.
I took a beat to take in all that was adult Birdie—white lab coat, black turtleneck, fitted and tucked into gray pants, clogs on her feet, and no ring on her finger. She’d filled out, breasts, curves in all the right places. I couldn’t help but wonder what type of panties she was wearing.
“Tonight, eat nothing after dinner. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have you on your way to new. Back to golfing in no time.”
“That’s it. Not a moment of small talk. I can’t ask how you are? Hear what you have been up to for the last million years?” My voice was gruff with emotion. It wasn’t often I got the brush-off…maybe never…not since Wren slid out of my apartment while my dad berated me.
“I’m fine. Here I am, all grown up, a doctor. And I’m going to repair your knee, so you’ll let me be.”
“Why? Why do I have to let you be? I’ve been wanting to reach out for years. Now, I finally have you in front of me.” I sounded absurd, and there was no reason for all this crap to fly out of my mouth…
“For years? You found me now when you needed me. You could have found me any other time. Now, I’m your doctor. So whatever fantasy you’re having over reconnecting, put it far, far away.”
