Page 16 of A Really Bad Idea

“Fuck yeah,” Christian adds, leaving Angela with a pout. “You can ask him, too. Guys like that.”

“They do?” My head pivots in his direction.

He pushes his white doctor’s jacket to the side and dips his hands into his pants pockets. “An assertive woman is sexy as hell.”

“Then, why doesn’t he want my toothbrush?” Angela asks, slightly flummoxed.

“Because you’re box girl,” he replies matter-of-factly. By the curious scowls on my and Angela’s faces, he explains further. “A girl who brings a box load of her stuff to a guy’s place, practically moving in before he is ready for commitment.”

I press my finger against my lips and ponder this for a minute. When Brock and I were dating, I brought an overnight bag to his place very early in the relationship and left a few things behind.

Angela’s right eye is closed as she asks, “It wasn’t a box. It was a stick with bristles. You’d think he’d appreciate my love of good oral hygiene.”

“I’m sure he definitely appreciates the oral. He just might not be ready to move into the next phase of your relationship,” he says with a grin.

I toss my now-empty yogurt container in the trash. “Have you ever let a girl leave anything at your place?”

“No,” his answer comes out.

“What about that girl you dated last year? Thalia? You were with her for, what, four months?” I ask.

“Nope.”

Angela steps in. “Not even the yoga instructor you went to the Hamptons with?”

“No.” He crosses his arms and rests his backside against the counter.

“Do you leave things at their place?” she questions him.

He shakes his head.

“Dr. Gallagher, are you afraid of commitment?” Angela asks.

I already know the answer, but I let him tell her anyway.

“Absolutely not. I’m actually looking forward to getting married someday. Just not now. I’m on the fourteen-year plan. If I want to be director of structural heart disease of cardiovascular medicine by the time I’m forty, then I have to devote my life to my career.”

Angela still looks confused. “What does that have to do with being in a relationship?”

“Everything. A woman I’m casually dating won’t mind if I take on an extra case and spend eighty hours a week in the hospital. I can’t always keep dinner reservations. Nor can I promise to go on a planned vacation without it being canceled because a patient went into critical heart failure. Women in committed relationships expect more of your time and energy.”

“Are they allowed to sleep over?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “The night before a surgery I spend alone, studying the case, watching previous surgeries on tape, and reading research papers. Most women don’t understand.”

Christian has been leading the way in breakthrough cardiothoracic valve replacement surgery. He’s one of a handful of surgeons in the world with the finesse to perform techniques not yet approved by the FDA. Everything he does is in critical trial. When I say his career is his sole focus, it’s not because he’s some arrogant guy who wants to be the best. It’s because he is paving the way for the future of medicine.

Angela’s eyes shift to the side. “And then what? When you’re forty, you’ll get married to the first girl you meet?”

“I’ll focus on running my unit for a few years and possibly consider settling down.”

She taps her foot and asks incredulously, “What if the most perfect woman comes along? You’ll pass her up because you want some fancy words on your placard someday?”

His eyes roam my way for a brief moment before he shrugs and replies, “I have time.”

“I wish I were a man. When I’m forty, my eggs will be shriveling up at a vastly declining rate,” I say out loud—a lot loud actually—which earns me the surprised stares of both Angela and Christian. I wave off what I said and throw the focus back on Angela and the reason we started this conversation. “You should talk to Denny about where you are in your relationship before you leave anything at his place.”

“I guess so,” she says, unconvinced while looking at me like I have three heads.