"Noted."
He left without another word. That was Riven. No unnecessary goodbyes or lingering conversations. He was efficient even in friendship.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Patel found me at the nurses' station.
"Reed, got a minute?"
I looked up from the chart I was updating. "Sure."
She settled against the counter beside me, tablet in hand. Patel was efficient and direct. She didn't waste time on small talk, which I appreciated. Life was too short for unnecessary words.
"I wanted to give you a heads-up about the department meeting tomorrow," she said. "We've got a new attending joining the trauma team. She'll be co-leading with you."
"Okay."
"Dr. Calla Karras." Patel pulled up something on her tablet, scanning the information. "I know it can be awkward, but her work on emergency thoracotomy protocols is some of the best research I've seen in years. She has excellent surgical outcomes and extensive publications. Just exactly what this department needs."
I already knew Calla would be joining us, but hearing her name still brought a sense of dread I didn't know existed. It made everything feel dangerously real.
I kept my face neutral. Years of delivering bad news to families had taught me how to control my expressions and to stay calm when everything inside me was screaming.
"Yeah, she’s always been good at what she does," I said steadily.
"She is." Patel smiled briefly, having no idea what grenade she'd just lobbed into my life. "I think you two will still work well together, despite… you know.” She paused, as if giving me space to react. But then she continued, “Fresh perspectives are always valuable."
I swallowed. "Looking forward to it."
"The meeting's at seven tomorrow. I'll send the agenda tonight."
"Great."
She nodded and walked away, already focused on the next task. I watched her go, my hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly my knuckles ached.
Calla and I would be working together in this building starting tomorrow. We would co-lead a team that would require meetings and collaboration and hours spent in close proximity.
It had been five years since we signed the divorce papers. We'd divided our lives into boxes and walked away from each other. And I’ve moved on by building something new with Maya.
And now Calla was back.
This was fine. I was fine. I was a professional.
I could handle working with my ex-wife.
CHAPTER FOUR
CASSIAN
FIVE YEARS AGO
Our second anniversaryfell on a Thursday and I had planned everything. Reservations at Lucia's, the small Italian place with terrible lighting but incredible pasta where we'd had our first real date. I called three weeks in advance to request the same corner booth, the one with the wobbly table leg that I'd fixed with a folded napkin while Calla pretended not to notice. I even bought a new tie, navy blue, because she once mentioned it was her favorite color on me—back when she still said things like that.
I left the hospital early, which almost never happened. Dr. Jones had raised an eyebrow when I handed off my patients at five-thirty, but he didn't ask questions. Maybe he remembered what it was like to be young and married. Or he just didn't care.
Either way, I was home by six. I showered and dressed, standing in front of the bathroom mirror trying to decide if the tie was too much.
It wasn't too much. It was our second wedding anniversary. That deserved a tie.
Cassian
