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She wasn't my wife, and he wasn't my husband, but I felt weak. I was a doctor who couldn't do anything to save both their lives. That's not the only thing that traumatized me. It was the thought that I might eventually fall in love with someone and be unable to save them. I wanted to avoid that as much as possible. If I slept around more, there was no way that would happen. No emotional attachment. Just purely sexual.
"That reminds me, don't you have work to get to?" Gabrielle asked.
"Hmm? Just an interview with a new staff member, but it's on Friday," I replied.
"But, today is Friday," she said.
I sat upright and checked my phone. It read 7:55 am. Friday. The interview was for eight.
"Fuck," I exclaimed as I got out of bed and rushed to pick up my things.
"Before you leave, kisses?" she requested.
I frowned at her.
"I know, I know. No kisses," she sighed and lay down properly. "Stay safe out there."
I sighed and got ready to leave. I was in Glen Allen and had to return to Richmond for the interview; theoretically, I was late. A private flight changed that. I sped off to one of my hospitals in Malibu and had their chopper take me back to Richmond.
****
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Dr. Sullivan."
"You look exhausted."
The concerns and greetings from my staff were met with immediate replies and loads of smiles. I made my way to the elevator and check my wristwatch: 9:30 am.
"Shit," I cursed and started tapping my feet impatiently as the elevator dragged on.
"Sir?" A nurse in the elevator called my attention.
"Yeah?" I turned to her and flashed a smile. "How are you doing?"
"Uh…very good," she answered. Her cheeks look a bit flustered, "Your fly is down."
I looked down and she was right. Shit.
I quickly zipped it up and clear my throat, "Ahem, thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied.
There was a stretched awkward silence. The only sound was the gentle elevator score. I wished I could say that I was used to this, but I was not. Slight errors like this usually turned into embarrassing situations. Usually, it started with something small, and the next thing was something that hurt me physically. I was not looking forward to the incoming pain.
As the door opened, I exited the elevator, making my way to my office. If I was lucky, the applicant would still be there.
If…
If wasn't my favorite word because it usually didn't favor me. As I made the turn, I bumped into someone, and her folder and phone fell to the floor. That week alone, I had to repair twelve phones.
"I'm sorry," we both said at the same time and bent down to pick up the materials.
Our heads hit each other and made a loud bonk sound. It hurt like hell.
"Ow," she cried, held her forehead and looked at me.
"I'm sorry, I…" My tongue was tied.
