“One minute it might be M&M’s, but the next it might be someone being rolled through that door dying. Which reminds me, I wanted to reassure you that you’ll always have the backup of the ER doctor you’re working with. So never hesitate to call on me if you need help with anything.”
I reached onto the floor near my desk, pulled out a huge binder, and set it on the desk.
She stared at it with loathing. Opened it. “What is this?”
“Our protocols. You can read them at your leisure. It’s how we handle all the main emergencies, including a contact list of specialists who are on call twenty-four-seven.”
“Oh.” She shut the binder. As she leaned over my desk, my heart accelerated. I smelled her clean powdery scent, and it took me straight back to that hotel lobby on that bright, sunny, warm day, with the humid heat and the sound of the ocean waves lapping in the background.
Staring into her eyes close up, I remembered the very first time I’d seen her, when she was a terrible mess, those eyes red and puffy and mascara-streaked, but I had seen everything about her—her openness, her kindness, her heart. Her strength.
Her curls fell forward. I could reach up and touch one. Cradle her cheek like I had done once upon a time and admit to the strong connection between us that maybe hadn’t quite gone away. Ask her how she was doing—did she get over what’s-his-name? Did she ever think about me too?
“I’m not an ER doctor,” she said, “but I am a board-certified pediatrician. And I will not work shifts in this ER if I can’t have autonomy. That means no barging in on me when I’m treating patients. Okay?”
“It’s my responsibility to make certain that you’re a good doctor.”
She threw up her arms. “Iama good doctor.” And then she glared at me. “You have a real problem with control, don’t you?”
She had no idea. “I work with all kinds of community doctors with different levels of rigor in their training. I have to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“I’ll tell you when I can use the help. When I’m out of my league. When an emergency comes in that I can’t handle by myself. You’re going to have to trust me on that.”
I nodded. “You’ll always have backup. You have my word.”
“Okay. You don’t dog me, and I’ll do my best to ask for help when I need it.”
“Deal.”
She extended her hand, and I took it.
Big mistake. Touching her—the warmth of her hand, the smoothness, the softness—made me realize that we were finally together again, through luck, serendipity, or fate. All the dust kicked up in my old soul and blew away, replaced with a brand-new feeling of hopefulness, of excitement. I tried like hell to tamp it all down. But if I had any doubt that the attraction, the chemistry, theheatfrom last summer had faded the least little bit…I was dead wrong.
I found myself lost in her eyes. Feeling the familiar undeniable pull between us. Remembering that brief but intense time when we’d both needed someone desperately and had found comfort in each other.
I never thought I’d see her again. But Ihadlooked her up. I knew who she was, where she’d gone to school, and that her mother was the head of the women’s board for the hospital.
We were still awkwardly staring at each other, and I was still struggling to find words, any words, which were all muddled up with my swirling thoughts, when footsteps sounded down the hall, getting louder by the second. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Footsteps with that amount of urgency meant that a staff member was coming to tell me something important:Someone’s had an accident. Someone’s bleeding. Someone’s incardiac arrest.It all boiled down to a patient needing help ASAP.
Sure enough, Angie, out of breath, burst into the room. “Dr. L.” Angie was the real force in this ER, my right-hand enforcer and the best nurse I’d ever seen. She was never out of breath, and she was never panicked, but now she was both. I immediately started for the door. “We’ve got two coming at once.” She glanced first at me and then at Ani.
Ani was already right behind me. We followed Angie straight into the ER, in time to see Cathy toss her yarn into a drawer and slam it shut. Tom stood at the front desk, ready for action. Ivy and BethAnn gathered around the desk for assignments.
“We have a fifty-eight-year-old male in cardiac arrest and a teenager in labor,” one of the triage nurses said.
“I’ll take the cardiac arrest,” I said to Ani. “You take the teen.”
Her face blanched.
I turned to Angie. “Is Dr. Cardiff on the way?”
“Already paged her,” Angie confirmed. “She’s the OB doc,” she said to Ani. “She’s twenty minutes away.”
“Oh good.” Ani blew out a breath.
Angie looked hesitant. “Not sure this baby’s going to wait. The teen is two minutes out and the EMT said she’s crowning.”
“I’m a pediatrician, not an obstetrician,” Ani said, her voice slow and steady. “I haven’t delivered a baby since med school.”
