He strolls out, whistling like the happiest man alive, leaving me with my paperwork, my sobriety, and my increasingly desperate need for this day to end.
One day sober and I already hate everyone.
Chapter Nine
Lorelie
After my twelve–hour shift, I finally clock out at eight. I tell myself I will shower at home, change at home, scrub off the sweat and someone else’s vomit at home. No way I am putting my day clothes through that torture.
I am two steps from the exit when a nurse intercepts me. “Dr. Murphy would like to see you in his office.”
Of course he would.
I plaster on a polite smile, that hides the fact that my feet are screaming. “Ok,” I say, even though I want to drop dead right here in the hallway.
Confused and starving, I follow her up the administrative wing. Apparently, management cannot pay us overtime to chat, but they sure can call us back after we are off the clock.
My stomach growls. I’ve barely eaten all day. And I still have Patrick to deal with. I don’t know if he expects me to walk in tonight acting like everything is fine when it is not.
I don’t know how I will act. Why did I say that crap this morning? That’s my problem. I say things and regret them immediately. Usually, Patrick talks me down or gets me out of whatever mess I agreed to just to be nice.
Only now the fight is with him.
Damn it.
Dr. Murphy doesn’t even stand when I walk in. He just keeps reading whatever file is in his hand. I sit without waiting for an invitation. I’m off the clock. He can deal with it.
“Usually, one would wait to be invited,” he says, still not looking up.
“Usually, one would not be expected to stand after a twelve–hour shift,” I answer.
He nods slightly. “Forgive me. I was dealing with some bureaucratic mess.”
I give him a tight nod in return, waiting.
“I noticed you are scheduled to work two shifts back-to-back next week,” he says.
I blink, then remember. Gail’s hiking trip. “Yes.”
“It seems.” He sets the paper down. “You’re covering for Dr. Abbott.”
“Yes,” I say. “We worked it out weeks ago.”
He lifts a brow. “Dr. Boise, there is a reason we have limits on the number of hours a physician is allowed to work consecutively.”
“They are eight–hour shifts,” I remind him. “It’s within union rules.”
“That provision is for emergency situations,” he says. “What exactly is Dr. Abbott’s emergency?”
I shrug. “That is his business. He’s covered for me when I needed to leave early, and other times too. This is me returning the favor.”
“It does not matter if you agreed,” Murphy says. “The hospital did not.”
I take a long, slow breath through my nose.
He continues, “And because of this, I am issuing a new rule. No physician is allowed to leave during a shift unless for an approved emergency. And ‘playing wife’ is not one of them.”
Everything inside me goes silent.
