“Next time your wife’s gone, do me a favor and order takeout.”
With a sheepish smile, Walter Berry—an elderly patient with thick glasses and a gray mustache—confessed his attemptat cooking had been to avoid the cost of dining out. His quiet admission earned Beth her first real laugh of the day—something she hadn’t realized she needed after the tension-filled morning.
“Trust me, it’ll be cheaper in the long run. Your burns could’ve been a lot worse. You’re lucky—only one second-degree burn out of a dozen. Can I ask why you thought making a roast in a disposable pie pan was a good idea?” Beth asked, helping the slight man into his plaid button-down shirt. At eighty-something, she wanted to assess whether this was poor judgment or something more serious.
“Well, my Betsy’s awfully picky about her pots and pans. When we were first married, I used one as a drip pan while changing the oil in the car. She made me buy her a whole new set. Fifty years later, she was still reminding me. Figured I didn’t want to risk ruining another one, so I used the pan from the store-bought pie. Didn’t realize it was too flimsy. Folded up like a taco when I took it out of the oven.”
His matter-of-fact tone made Beth smile and eased her concerns. It wasn’t a memory issue—just a case of bad judgment. If anyone knew how one decision could snowball into something life-changing… it was her.
“If you attempt to cook again while the missus is gone, pick up a disposable roasting pan. Was any of the meal salvageable?”
“Nope. Still a block of ice in the middle. Sad day when frozen meat fights back—and wins.”
Beth’s head fell forward in laughter. She reached into her scrub pocket and pulled out a small card.
“What’s that?” Walter asked, as she handed it to him.
“A meal voucher for the cafeteria. It may not be your Betsy’s cooking, but at least it won’t be frozen. And today’s special just so happens to be—pot roast.”
“Thank you kindly, young lady.”
“You’re very welcome. Anything else before the doctor comes to discharge you?”
“Yeah—how do you clean an oven?”
Beth blinked, then let out a startled laugh. Not a polite chuckle—a real laugh. The kind that caught her off guard and kept going until tears pricked her eyes.
Walter watched with mild amusement. “What’d I say?”
She swiped at her cheeks, still grinning. “I’m sorry. It’s just… that might be the most honest question I’ve gotten all day.”
“Well, honesty’s free, even if roast pans aren’t.”
Beth laughed again, softer this time. “Alright. Soft sponge, Ajax, and a whole lot of elbow grease. If that’s it, I’d better go round up a doctor so you can grab that meal.”
“I’ll see you next time.”
“As much as I’ve enjoyed your company, Mr. Berry, I hope there isn’t a next time. Take care of yourself until the missus gets back. She sounds like a special lady—I would have loved to have met her.”
“Thank you for everything, young lady,” Walter said, giving Beth a warm, grandfatherly hug.
“It was my pleasure. Wait here—a doctor should be in shortly.”
Beth stepped into the hallway—only to stop short.
Bryce.
He was striding down the corridor toward her, clipboard in hand, hair slightly tousled, looking perfectly at ease. The complete opposite of how she felt.
Her heart hiccupped.
She hadn’t expected to see him yet—his shift wasn’t supposed to start until 1:30 PM—and today was her first time back at work since Bryce had emailed out their marriage announcement.
She glanced around. She could feel it. The stares. The whispers. Everyone knew they weren’t just coworkers anymore.
Beth straightened her shoulders automatically, every muscle tightening. She was suddenly hyper-aware of her surroundings—of the staff walking by, of Mae and Crystal at the nurses’ station. Mae leaned forward in her chair, forearms braced on the desk, openly intrigued. Crystal stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed, jaw tight, radiating jealousy like heat from a burner.
Bryce reached her and gave a lazy, appreciative grin. “Hey, gorgeous.”
