“Where’d you hear that?” I ask, stepping onto the treadmill.
“Nick shared it to the residents’ WhatsApp group.” Austin grins as he takes the treadmill next to me. “Most of the department’s heard about it. Nick said the mom was hot.”
“Nick should learn to keep his mouth shut,” I growl.
Austin raises an eyebrow. “You liked her.”
“Austin, I operated on her kid!”
He shrugs as he punches buttons to start his treadmill. “So? You didn’t operate on the mom, so it wouldn’t be dating a patient. If you wait a few weeks, it’s probably fine. When’s she bringing the kid for follow-up?”
“I don’t know when she’s coming for follow-up!” I retort. It’s a lie, because I’m well aware that Claire’s booked for next Tuesday. “And I can’t date a patient’s mom.”
The morning after Claire ended up in the ICU, I looked up the Medical Board’s policy on relationships with patients. It’s frustratingly vague, and says itmay beinappropriate for a doctor to have a sexual relationship with someone closely associated with a patient.
So. A sexual relationship with Melissa might be considered professional misconduct. Then again, it might not. Gotta love the Medical Board and their ambiguous rules.
And much as I hate the rule, I understand it. Melissa’s just dealt with the stress of her daughter’s illness. When she asked to meet for coffee, it wasn’t because she wanted to have coffee with Luke Carlton; it was because she wanted to thank the doctor who helped her daughter. The problem is, there’s no way I could spend more time with Melissa without wanting to get in her pants.
So I have to back off. Fate has already determined that Melissa and I aren’t meant to be together, and only an idiot would go there again.
“I’m not sure it’s against the rules,” Austin says thoughtfully. “And according to Nick, the abs of steel joke came from her, so she hit on you first.”
“She wasn’t hitting on me.” Melissa had seen I was upset about Liam’s nosebleed, and had simply been trying to lighten the mood. “And it doesn’t matter, since she’s not my type.”
And I haven’t spent the past week dreaming of how her breasts would feel in my hands.
I jab at the treadmill display to push the pace, taking it to a speed I can barely maintain. My muscles arescreaming in protest; I’ve been working out hard this week, trying to get my mind off Melissa.
As I expected, Austin increases his speed to match mine, and soon we’re both breathing too hard to talk. Austin’s my best friend, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t tell him the truth: that Melissa and I dated for over six years. And even though I thought I was over her, I was probably wrong.
I will my brain to think of other things, and I run down my mental list of things I need to do. Run a load of laundry. Buy a birthday card for my secretary. Write Nick a reference letter for his fellowship application.
But after hearing that Nick called Melissa hot, I’m in no frame of mind to write him a reference letter.
Austin finally hits the button to stop his treadmill, but I force myself to run for another minute before doing the same. As we towel off, I check my phone and find a message from Sloane, asking if she can call to talk about our research project.
I can’t hide a sigh, and Austin looks at me curiously.
“Sloane,” I explain. “She wants to talk about the research project.”
“Sure she does,” Austin says with a knowing smile. “She’s not over you, man.”
“No, she just wants to finish the project,” I insist, hoping that’s all it is. “She’ll be applying for fellowships next year, and she needs the publication.”
“What’s the project?”
“Whether doctors should include their first names when they introduce themselves to patients.”
Austin snorts with laughter. “Seriously?”
“Sure,” I say, although I secretly agree with him. It’s a stupid project, and I can’t believe I let Sloane rope me intoit. “It’s an important question, Austin. Patients might pay more for their nose jobs if you introduce yourself as Dr. Austin Davenport instead of just Dr. Davenport.”
“I just say, ‘I’m the doctor who’s going to make you beautiful,’” he jokes. “That’s all most people need to hear.”
I roll my eyes, and my phone pings again. I move to set it down when I realize that this text came from Melissa, not from Sloane.
Melissa: Can stress cause appendicitis?
