Page 24 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

Chapter 10

Sophie

Work has been awkward this week. It’s safe to say I completely understand why companies enforce the “no fraternization” policy. And it isn’t even just the strangeness between Isaac and me, it’s the staff. I know he’s not a gossip, but that doesn’t mean the rest of them aren’t, and it irritates me greatly.

I didn’t work my ass off for all these years for people to stand around and talk about me. I feel I’m owed more respect than I’ve been given this week, which further makes me question what I’m doing with my life. Why haven’t I been consistently looking to see if there are any openings back in Minneapolis? Not that I’m trying to run from my problems, but the goal has always been to get back home, and I haven’t looked in at least six months. During the six months that I was sort of dating him.

Monday, I’m definitely taking the time to see if anything is posted, as well as reaching back out to my office contacts to see if there are any changes in staffing or if additional locations are being added. Lately, many practices have been expanding as large city markets grow. Take Tampa—last year, it was the eleventh fastest growing city in the US, and the only place for these newcomers to land is either north, south, or east. There have been mumblings from the senior physicians that it might be time for a north location as two new hospitals are going up. New locations mean they need more physicians.

While Minneapolis isn’t growing as fast, it is a much larger metro area, and I’d like to believe that opportunities will be open—if not now, then soon.

And when I do go, I will definitely not date anyone I work with.

Parking my car in Camille’s driveway, I stare up at her house and admire what she’s accomplished. This house is a home with her handsome husband and her soon-to-be beautiful baby. I may love what I’m doing and am proud of how hard I worked to get where I am, but I’m thirty-three. A part of me recognizes what I’m missing.

“Sophie, stop with the pity party,” I chastise myself and climb out of the car.

We’re one week away from Camille’s baby shower, and despite having the world’s best party planner gifted to her by her mother, who is technically the host, she invited me over because she said she needed my help.

Of course I go, but what I didn’t realize is we’d be food tasting.

So much food.

We’re at her formal dining room table, which seats twelve. She had built this table from reclaimed pine that was found through salvaging rural farmlands for her business, Vintage Soul. There’s a mixture of old doors and barns. It has a natural antique finish and was distressed by hand. The legs have been shaped to remind me of one of those hanging Christmas ornaments where the top bulb is large, the middle medium-sized, and then there’s the smallest just before the pointy end. The chairs are stained the same color, but she’s upholstered them with an ivory fabric. It’s beautiful. And spread out in front of us are three different salads, baked salmon, baked chicken, and baked eggplant. There are four different pastas, at least twelve different canapés, and twelve different finger desserts.

“Why didn’t you have Reid taste all of this with you?” I ask her as I stare at the plates in front of us. A server slips behind me and fills my glass with water. I feel like royalty being served in her house like this.

“I asked him, but he thought I would enjoy this more with you. We get to pick our favorites, whereas he would just pick it all.” She smiles at me. The pregnancy glow on her is a real thing. I’ve teased her that she's having a boy because her skin is too flawless to be a girl. In which she laughs and says her baby loves her too much to suck away all her beauty.

“Well, tell him my stomach says thank you,” I say in awe.

The chef steps up to our table and takes his time explaining each dish. When he’s done, we dive in.

“How’s work going?” she asks.

I let out a groan. “Terrible. Apparently, my six-figure student loan affords me the title of ungrateful heartbreaker instead of surgeon,” I tell her bitterly.

“What?” she asks, coughing as if she almost choked and needs to clear her throat. “What do you mean?” she asks as she stares at me.

“The loyal office staff have clearly taken sides, and it’s not mine.” My lips pinch together, and then I let out a deep sigh. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about this.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” she asks, her fork hanging in midair.

“I wish I was.”

Natural light pours into the room from the large windows overlooking her back patio. Frequently, when I’m here, my eyes drift to where Jonah and I danced the night away and where he first kissed me. Has that fondness for the moment faded some over the years? Yes. But it was still there, and now it’s come roaring back just like he has.

I was so embarrassed when he saw his name pop up on my watch. I look like a creeper stealing his phone number. It’s completely unprofessional, but the confused look which morphed to a pleased look lessened some of the sting. He was happy that I have it. Now I just have to decide whether I’m going to work up the nerve to use it.

“Isn’t that like breaking a lot of the company policies? You’re a superior to them, and they’re speaking negatively, in addition to spreading rumors about your character and personal life.” She takes a bite of the eggplant, and her eyes briefly close in satisfaction.

“I know, and I’m actually surprised that Isaac is allowing this. He must know it’s happening. The tension at the nurses' station is thick and frigid.”

“You should say something to him,” she says between bites.

“And make it even more awkward? No, I can handle this. Regardless of whether this dies down this week, I will be setting expectations.”

I pick up three different canapés and place them on my plate. The first is a crostini with whipped ricotta, sliced prosciutto, and pickled peaches. The second is a seared scallop topped with a bacon jam, and the third is a perfectly cut piece of watermelon with basil, feta, and balsamic vinegar. I’ve died and gone to heaven, and there’s still so much more.