To think that dream man was an actual human—and a grumpy one at that—was sort of devastating.
“We just ordered a pizza,” Angie confessed.
Stella, our unit clerk, violently shushed her.
“Pizza can be enjoyed in the break room, Angela.” Everyone was now sitting straight upright, wide-eyed. “A few more things. Everyone has to remember to clock in and out. And there will be no romance novels, no catalogs, or…crafts.”
Everyone stared at Cathy, who suddenly froze in the middle of a stitch. “What, this? She held up a foot-long piece of soft, pastel colored baby blanket. “This is for my brand-new niece. It’s not a craft. It’s a…work of art.” She grinned expectantly.
“Sorry, Cathy,” Grump said. “Any activity that doesn’t have to do with studying or learning ER skills is now banned. We want the highest rating from the Joint Commission on Accreditation. We want the best stats—less wait time, quicker treatment times, faster discharges, better care. And to do that, we have to be professional. At all times.”
He took in a final glance at all the employees, still sitting there, slack-jawed but silent. “I’ll be in my office until the next patient arrives,” he said. “Meeting dismissed.”
I waited until his footsteps faded and his office door closed with a definitive click before I turned to my colleagues, whispering, “Isn’t anyone going to say anything?”
“Maybe you’re not afraid of losing your job,” Ivy said. “But my husband got laid off last week.”
“I’m speechless,” Tom said. “I mean, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Poor guy thinks we can have great stats if we pay attention one-hundred percent of the time,” Angie said. “He’s forgotten all about having fun too.”
“We do pay attention,” Cathy said. “When it counts. If we were like that all the time, we’d burn out from stress.”
Poor guy?“Angie, why do you cut him slack?” I could barely contain myself.
“He’s not bad,” she said, “just misdirected. He just needs time.”
“And to get laid,” Tom said.
I looked around at our little group. “No one’s going to fight this?”
“Not right now,” BethAnn said. “The hospital’s helping me finance my nurse practitioner degree.”
I shook my head incredulously. Then headed straight down the hall to his office.
Adam
I loved the ER, but it had to run like tight, like a ship. Because here, every second counted. You had to be sharp 100% of the time, or someone’s life could be at stake. It didn’t matter who walked in—every single person got treated the exact same. Even if that woman was Ani Green.
Tonight was finally the night our paths crossed. And I’d done everything wrong.
In the quiet of my office, I pinched the bridge of my nose, hard. A reminder that my priority was to do my job. Period. I opened my center desk drawer and slid out the photo that sat right on top. Liv was leaning against me, her smile radiating from her eyes. I’m displaying what I call my happy dumb grin. Happy to be with her, nothing else really mattering. Thoughts of sickness and death were as far away as our old age.
I ran my eyes over all her features that I knew by heart: her great smile, the little crinkles around her eyes. Her sweater was cabled and black, her hooped earrings gold. My shirt was a blue button-up, still my favorite. How could I possibly still have that shirt and not her?
After almost three years, I was slowly forgetting what she looked like. What she sounded like. How she felt. I didn’t know how to stop that from happening, and it made me frantic.
I felt a lump rise up in my throat like it did every single time. I would never fall in love again, never subject myself to being so helpless and out of control in the face of disaster.Never again.
I used the photo as a reminder of my ultimate mission: to be a wall. It was an expression ER doctors used that meant to do everything possible to not overwhelm the floors with admissions, to treat people and try to send them home instead of admitting them. But in my case, it meant being sturdy. A leader. Impenetrable to nonsense.
I glanced up to see a shadow cast over my doorway, just outside my door. A second later, Ani Green stepped into my office.
Her hair was up in a ponytail, no nonsense. “May I have a word?” And was that her shoe tap-tap-tapping impatiently on my office floor?
I’d been expecting this day, wanting it and fearing it, the moment she would walk back into my life.
“Of course.” I gestured her in, warning myself to keep it to business. “Have a seat.”
