Warmth spreads through me. No one is as thoughtful as Jordan. Truly.
“First of all, I like the box. Good shade of green.”
I snort when he flashes the universal “okay” symbol.
Jordan cuts the tape and opens the box, then bursts out laughing. “A dildo! Oh, damn. I should’ve known.” He leans into the screen. “Tomorrow night if you’re… wait, no. I work. Fuck. Um, Thursday night! Thursday then. We’ll use this. I promise.” He winks, but my heart sinks.
Thursday? That’s only two days away, but still. It’s a harsh reminder how limited our time together will be now.
I set the phone face down on the mattress, though Jordan’s voice still plays through the speakers. This hurts. This reality just fucking hurts. I’ll watch the video again later, but I can’t right now.
Instead, I drag myself out of bed, take a shower, and head to work.
My mood hasn’t lifted by the time I get there. The lights are too bright and the people too loud. I drift through the morning routine. Checking charts, administering meds, going through pre-op lists. But I’m not really into it. I’m not really here. My mind is a thousand miles away. In a greenhouse motorhome with a gorgeous man and a white cat.
A gurney comes into my periphery. The aide’s voice is low and gentle.
“Alright, Ruth, here we go. Your home away from home.”
My attention snaps up.Ruth.As in, my former patient Ruth?
I cut across the floor toward the room they’re steering her into. My chest is tight, and I’m praying I’m wrong, that it’s someone else with the same name. But when I step into the room and she turns her head toward me, I nearly stumble.
Ruth’s hair is a little messier than I remember, her skin pale, almost translucent, and she looks smaller, like the time away has taken more from her. But her eyes are as vivid as ever behind those huge glasses.
“Well, I’ll be,” she says in a soft rasp. “I thought you’d be long gone by now. Off on your next adventure.”
I laugh, but it sticks somewhere in my throat. “Well, how would I be here for my favorite patient then? I must’ve known you were coming. What is it this time? Hangnail? Paper cut?”
She gives me a tired smile. “My guts finally called it quits.”
I have no idea what she means by that. I step closer, taking her cool hand and giving it the gentlest squeeze. “What happened?”
“Oh, I’m all blocked up again. Worse this time. They’re gonna cut me open and see what’s worth keeping.”
Before I can reply, the glass door slides open and Dr. Mullins walks in with his chest puffed out like he owns the place.
I grit my teeth.Of course Dr. Mullins would be here today.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Thought your term was up,” he says coldly.
“Extended.”For eighty-eight more days and counting.
He is less pleased about this than I am. Without batting an eye, he jumps into directives. “Prep her for a resection. She’s NPO, fluids are going, and the consent’s already been signed for the surgery. I want her down to OR 3 before ten.”
“Shejustgot here,” I say in dismay. “She’s weak and her last stay—”
“Is this a medical consult or a pity party?”
His question throws me off. What an asshole.
He clicks a pen, writing something on a notepad before shoving it back in his pocket. “Ruby’s stable enough for surgery.”
“Ruth,” I correct him.
He rolls his eyes. “Right.Ruth.Let’s not get emotional, nurse. This isn’t a hospice floor.”
Fuck, I hate this guy. I want to throw something at him for seeing a diagnosis instead of a person. To him, Ruth is nothing but a task to complete. It’s all he’s ever seen with any of his patients.
