My hand drifts to the phone clipped at my hip, buzzing for the third time in fifteen minutes. I told Lane I’d stop by on the way to the hospital to recap everything. Truth is, there’s no new news for her, but I told her I would.
A quick glance to see several texts from my resident about post-op labs, a reminder for tomorrow’s full schedule of clinic appointments, and another message from the hospital administrator about taking a consult appointment.
Shit. I need to get back to her.
Today’s light. I only have two post-ops and some charting. If I’d had any foresight, I could’ve shifted one or twoof Thursday’s cases to this morning and cleared space for New York. But this all happened so fast, I didn't even know yesterday morning that I would need to do that.
I thumb the screen dark and slide it back into my clip. Every alert is a reminder of what waits if I say yes to New York.
The truth is, he doesn’t really need me there. I'm sure Jerry the Jerk is coming, and I can't stand to be around him.
If I don’t go, it won’t diminish Sanders' experience or jeopardize the fundraiser. Sanders will still get the experience of New York, the city lights, the cameras. Lane will make sure of it.
“Dad, did you hear me?” Sanders tugs at my sleeve, pulling me back. His grin is so wide it knocks the breath out of me. “Almost eighty thousand dollars now! Luke’s gonna get his kidney for sure.”
I slide my keys into my back pocket, forcing a smile. “I heard you. That’s… incredible. Where's your mom?”
It is. But behind Sanders’s joy, I feel the weight of the decision pressing in: work on one side, family on the other. As usual, I can’t have both.
"Back here, in the kitchen." Sanders races to the kitchen table, where he resumes working on a poster board, glitter glue smeared across his fingers and somehow on his forehead.Get Luke 2 Dukesprawls across the top in wobbly blue letters.
"That for the parade?"
"Yes! I get to be on the float for the Kidney Foundation. They messaged me through TikTok, and then mom talked to someone last night."
I thought no more decisions without discussing them together. I guess that's only one-sided.
Lane, standing at the kitchen island,her hair loose around her shoulders, backlit by morning sun slanting through the windows, smiles at me when we make eye contact and nods once. She's wearing an oversized sweater that slips off one shoulder, revealing skin I once knew by heart. My mouth goes dry.
"Coffee?" She lifts the pot, her voice carefully neutral.
"Please." I shrug off my coat and hang it on the back of a chair.
She sets a steaming mug in front of me, and our fingers brush lightly, almost imperceptibly. The contact sends an electric current up my arm that I try to ignore. Her eyes widen slightly before she turns away.
"Did you figure out your schedule?" She rinses her own mug at the sink, not looking at me. "The GMA coordinator called this morning. They need to know about flights by one today."
The weight of expectation settles across my shoulders. I've been on calls half the night, shuffling appointments, offering favors.
"My PAs are covering clinic appointments tomorrow, and I've rescheduled what I could," I say, watching her back stiffen. "But I still have three surgeries that can't wait. It's not definite, but if I can't push them to next week…"
Lane's hands pause mid-rinse. I can read the irritation in the line of her spine. "Oh, so you're not coming?"
"I'm still working on it. Nate might be able to cover them," I add quickly. "I'm waiting to hear back."
She turns, one eyebrow raised. "Nate Peck? Mr. 'Good Enough Is Good Enough'?"
Despite everything, I smile. "He's actually a damn good surgeon."
"I know." Her lips quirk up, and for a second, we're on the same side again.
Sanders pipes up from the table. "Dad, you have tocome! I told Luke you'd explain his kidney stuff to Robin Roberts. Plus, I want to ice skate with you."
Lane's eyes meet mine over our son's head. The challenge is clear:Choose. Choose right this time.
I exhale slowly and take out my phone, scrolling to Nate's number. "Let me check in with Nate."
Stepping away from the table toward the doorway, I walk back outside to the cold morning. The pine wreath with the large red bow bounces slightly as the door clicks shut.
