He holds me out at arms length, giving me the most disappointed fatherly look.
So I sigh heavily and internally roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad. It’s appropriate. It’s long-sleeved and floor length, but fitted. It doesn’t show anything that doesn’t need to be shown.”
He won’t ask, but I know he also wants to make sure my sensor and pump aren’t visible. He’s never asked, but I noticed the way he looked at me the few times I visited in the summer, sensor clearly visible on the back of my arm when wearing a tank top.
“If you change your mind,” he says as he lets go of me to sit back at his desk, “I can give you my card and you can take yourself on a well-deserved shopping spree.”
I cringe at the thought, knowing he’d love to shower me with money and gifts instead of his time. It’s what he did when I was a teenager; he always sent money for shopping or told my mom to buy me whatever I wanted. It wasn’t until I was in college that I started to refuse anything he’d suggest. “Thank you for the offer, but the dress I have is fine. I’ve only worn it once, so it’s practically brand new.”
He nods with his eyes still fixed on me. “Sometimes I can’t believe how grown up my little Princess has become.”
His sentiment is so unexpected that I can’t school my expression in time, and he catches it.
“What?” He chuckles as he sits back down at his desk, eyes now fixated on the computer. “I know there has been a lot of distance between us, Annaliese, both physically and emotionally, but you’re still my daughter. I want a better relationship for us.”
I let my shoulders sag and move to sit on the corner of his desk. “I want that too, Dad.”
He gives me a soft smile and reaches his hand out to cover mine. I take that moment to study his worn face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the starched dress shirt that seems baggier with each year that passes.
“Have you heard anything from my director at Compassion Cruises?” My dad has mentioned casual emails back and forth with them, and I wonder if their conversation has progressed, making him think a little more about my departure.
“We touch base now and then… all is well.” He keeps his face impassive, gaze fixed on where our hands are held together. “Have you given any more thought to staying here? To not returning to your previous residency?”
My hand jerks back, and he flinches at my reaction.
I’ve thought a lot about my decision, actually. I mostly think about what it’d be like to work the next two years, maybe longer, with Colt. I know I’d learn a lot working with him and the other attendings at this hospital. I’d make great connections that would potentially further my career. And yes, in the future I’m sure I’ll end up somewhere around the city, but it’s not for me. Not now.
“It’s not where my heart is, Dad. I still plan on leaving at the end of the year, but I’ll be back after I complete my residency. Wouldn’t it be kind of cool,” I pause, seeing his expression fall flat. “Wouldn’t it be cool if someday we performed a surgery together?”
I linger for a moment, hoping he’ll show the same enthusiasm I have about our future, even if our past remains muddy. But as the seconds tick by, I realize his sole reason for wanting to chat with me was about a stupid dress and a stupid ritzy event. He’s more worried I’ll end up disappointing him than anything else.
Without even muttering a forced goodbye, I leave his office and blow out a long, frustrated breath the entire walk to Colt’s door.
As soon as I cross the threshold and see Colt sitting at his desk with his broad shoulders hunched over and a crease between his brows, the air around me seems to lighten.
I’d take a grumpy Colt any day. Because while he puts on the grumpy front that scares off most people, I know it’s just that. A front. His hardened outer shell is nothing compared to the sweet man inside.
When he notices me close the door behind me, his face breaks out in a smile, and he leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head.
The move puts his ridiculous biceps on display, somehow flexing in the process, and I smile in return.
“Good morning.”
“Morning, Sparky. Hope you ate your Wheaties today.”
“Oh?” I prompt, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and plopping down. “Something big on the schedule?” I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary—gallbladder removal, another appy, and a small biopsy. Nothing new was discovered during rounds this morning. All in all, I expected it to be a lighter day.
The corner of his mouth ticks up as he smiles, and butterflies immediately swirl in my stomach. Dammit this man is handsome. And I hate him for it.
“I’ve decided the appy is yours, start to finish. I’ll be your first assist, but I want you to lead.”
My stomach clenches with excitement. An appendectomy is definitely a surgery that a second-year would likely start out with, but usually the attending begins the case and hands it over at an appropriate spot. Colt has let me handle several of them, but always after he’s had the first look. His confidence in me is a drastic contrast to the lack of confidence my dad seems to have, and I feel tears well in my eyes.
He leans forward, his expression falling serious. “Well, shit, I don’t want you to cry over it. Tell me these are happy tears and not scared tears, because you can do this, Annaliese. I have complete and utter faith in you.”
“First of all, how dare you assume I’m crying,” I tease while swiping the water from my lower lash. “Secondly, yes I want this.” I want this so badly my teeth hurt.
His expression lightens. “Good. It’s our last one this afternoon, so we don’t have to rush it. I don’t want you to try to set any records for speed. Take your time, I’ll be right there. I’ve got you, Annie.”
