“And beautiful,” Remy adds.
Kate and the Hastings crew all seem to know Dr. Sara Dos Santos well. She'd gone to school with Max and greeted him like an old friend when she bustled into the ER shortly after our arrival. Remy had immediately started flirting with her. That much I remember clearly.
That led to the pain medication, the X-rays, and the MRI. Then the dog conversation.
Now all we need is the formal diagnosis. I know my ankle is a mess. How much of a mess is the only question, and one I'm deliberately not speculating about.
I open my eyes when Dr. Dos Santos bustles in with a sheaf of papers and what appear to be X-rays. She gives Remy a quick smile. She’s bright-eyed and efficient, and I wonder if they've ever dated. Remy seems like a person who has dated everyone in town. Thank goodness Kate didn’t fall for him.
Thank goodnessIdidn’t fall for him. “Blergh,” I say randomly out loud, and a few people pat my good leg.
“Well, Lauren, you certainly had a fall.” She flicks a switch and a lighted panel on the wall illuminates. With quick, practiced movements she clips two X-rays to the top.
“You have a medial malleolus fracture.” She gestures with a pen on the X-ray.
I wince. “That bone isn't supposed to be in two pieces, is it?”
“No, it isn't. It's a little early to know whether you'll need surgery, and I'd suggest you see an orthopedic surgeon next week. I’ll give you a referral.”
“Surgery?” Only it comes out sounding likesmurgerfy.
She nods. “You're young and have good bone density. It may heal on its own, but you need a specialist's opinion. I can refer you, or Max may know someone.” She glances at him with a smile. “Lord knows you boys broke enough bones growing up.”
Max, Damien, Tate, and Remy all chuckle. Kate snorts.
I scowl at all of them.
“But I have a trip coming up.” I squint at the X-ray. “Costa Rica. I was going to do a sunrise yoga session in the rainforest canopy. And zip-lining.” My throat tightens with panic. “Some yoga, too.”
The doctor clicks her pen three times. “I think zip-lining should come off the agenda for the near future.”
Can I reschedule the Costa Rica trip? Valentina had been so generous with the invitation, and there are probably a hundred other influencers lined up behind me...
“What if I'm really careful? Can I still travel? I'll be mobile, right? I can walk?” I imagine myself hobbling through a luxury eco-retreat on crutches and feel the urge to weep.
“I'm not the orthopedic surgeon, but I can tell you this: you need to stay off that ankle for at least six weeks.”
“Six weeks?” My voice comes out approximately three octaves higher than usual. “I'm supposed to walk down the aisle in Kate's wedding. And I have the trip of a lifetime booked.”
Dr. Dos Santos nods and scribbles something on my chart. “When's the wedding?”
“Three days,” I mutter. “And the trip is two weeks from now.”
Two weeks from now I'm supposed to be in Costa Rica photographing dawn mist over a rainforest canopy. Maybe I could still do it in a cast? I imagine asking a howler monkey to sign it and almost laugh despite myself.
The doctor looks up and beams past me. “Someone getting married?”
“We are.” Damien slides an arm around Kate, who looks like she might burst with happiness. Damien presses a kiss to her temple and Tate whispers, “aww.”
“Congratulations.” She grins, then glances at Remy.
“I’m still looking for a date if you're free, Doc,” Remy says, beaming and puffing out his chest a little.
“Maybe it’s not the moment for that,” she says. And yet, the tops of her cheekbones turn a little pink.
I look around the room with wobbly indignation. “I'm the patient here,” I announce, and Dr. Dos Santos snaps back to professional mode with admirable speed.
Max rubs my arm and tries not to smile.
