Page 6 of Sweet Heart

“I didn’t even know ERs did that. I thought you just patched people up and sent them off to their GP. It almost seems like you actually care about me, Doctor Durand.”

I roll my eyes, even though she has a point.

“You were severely hypoglycemic and are at risk of recurrence. I am not taking any risks.” I lean in a bit closer, bringing my lips close to her ear. “Come back within three days, or I will flag your file and have you admitted the next time you walk through those doors.”

Her breath hitches, and I have to fight to keep my own lips from curling up. I turn around without giving her another glance and stride out of the room, leaving the door open behind me.

Chapter 03

Mary

Once again, the doors hiss at me, and I am bathed in that awful cold glow of the ER. My body braces instinctively, but this time I smile and push the urge to run aside. I have a very cute doctor to torment. Would she give me her number? Of course not, dummy. That’s, like, unethical or something. But still, I can’t keep the smirk from my face as I walk down the hallway with light steps.

This time, the triage nurse looks up when I arrive at the desk. Her eyes scan over me quickly before she frowns slightly. She grabs a form and a pen and hands it over.

“Please fill this in. I’ll come and take your vitals in a minute.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s—”

The nurse raises an eyebrow, effectively silencing me. I scan the room for my savior, but Doctor Durand is nowhere to be seen. Shame, really.

With the form in hand, I sink down into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. They might have that fancy fake-leather look, but they are still hard as a brick underneath. Chairs like these are designed to scare away the people who aren’t in desperate need. Why that silly marketing trick found its way into the waiting room of an ER is beyond me, but here I am. My butt is already getting numb after only a few minutes in the chair.

I glance at the form and fill in the basic information: name, phone number, address, emergency contact, symptoms, and so on. By the time I reach the bottom of the page, I’m seriously questioning whether I should have bothered to even come in for this recheck.

I sigh softly and return the form to the nurse. She glances at it, stiffens for a second, and then her eyes shoot up to meet mine just as I’m about to return to my seat.

“You’re Marilouise?”

I wince at the sound of my birth name.

“No, well, yes… but no… Sorry, Belgian trauma. Call me Mary, please,” I chuckle and wave my hand at nothing, as if that explains it all.

The nurse doesn’t return my smile. Instead, her jaw tightens slightly, and her eyes dart back to the form before finding mine again.

“Wait here, please,” she says in a clipped voice before pushing her chair back so hard it almost topples.

I blink and watch her leave through the doors behind her. A sudden fear grips my heart. Did Doctor Durand actually flag my record, like she said she would? No, that was… She was just joking, right? Or was she?

I bite my lip while the nerves surge through my body. Everything inside me screams that I should bolt now, but before I can move, I feel a presence behind me. When I pivot, I am greeted by rich brown eyes staring me down. Holy shit! Where did she come from? I gasp audibly, and her eyebrow shoots up in question.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Doctora,” I instantly quip, unable to restrain myself. “You just materialized behind me like some kind of vampire.”

“¿Qué?” she says, confused, before blinking rapidly and shaking her head. “I’m doing your recheck myself. Follow me.”

Suddenly, her tone is sharp, and she strides away without waiting for me, her heels once again clicking against the floor. How did I not hear her coming up behind me? I can’t help but roll my eyes and take quick strides to catch up with her. At least this time, I am able to keep my balance, so when she comes to a sudden stop again, I am not barreling into her.

“Geesh, what is it with you and these dead stops,” I murmur under my breath.

The doctor glances over her shoulder with a glint in her eye but she doesn’t reply. Instead, she pushes the door open and gestures for me to enter. For whatever reason, I do as she commands, and I prop myself up on the gurney. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly, and she lifts her chin a fraction. I huff defiantly. She is acting like she won a boxing match or something. It’s not that deep.

“You look lucid,” she states in a flat, low voice, which instantly draws a snort from me.

“Lucid? Really?”

Her eyes widen slightly, and she purses her lips.

“Come on, Doctora, you could’ve gone with ‘alive’ or ‘vibrant.’ Hell, even a simple ‘better’ would have been… well… better.”