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Chapter One
John
After ensuring my new resident was as excited to begin working as she was the other night, I made my exit so Dr. Smith could relax after the shock of realizing I would be her superior.
She was one of five people starting today—four of whom were interns straight out of med school—but she landed the coveted special residency that Saint John’s offered. Because she’d done double coursework at Stanford and had already done her internship at UC Irvine, she could come here and choose the specialty she was most interested in. I was among the first people to be awarded the special residency when I was starting out, so I knew firsthand that you had to be the top candidate in the country to receive it.
She certainly wasn’t lying when she bragged about how smart she was. You had to be running on all cylinders and very little sleep to pull off what she did, and I know because I did it myself.
When we met, I probably should’ve told her that I worked at Saint John’s, but the way she was going on and on, trying to be impressive, was too irresistible. I knew I’d see her this morning, and I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she realized who I was.
Typically, new hires would be directed to their lockers, given their badges, and thrown into the thick of it, but I insisted Chief Alan bring our special resident to me straight away. I’m sure it didn’t take him long to realize I had something up my sleeve.
Anyone who knew me knew that doing something like this was to be expected. Not to brag, but our team was comprised of the happiest fucking doctors on the planet, and everyone knew that if they weren’t on guard, I would prank them when they least expected it.
I loved working at this place. I loved the environment, and I loved the staff. Everyone here was filled with life and awesome energy, and they were dedicated to providing the best possible reproductive healthcare.
One truth about our job was that the highs were very high, and the lows could be catastrophically low, so it was crucial for us all to be understanding and empathetic, no matter the situation. I took a lot of shit from my frat brothers about choosing this specialty, but I’m glad I didn’t let their bullshit dissuade me. This job was about more than dealing with the female anatomy; It was helping bring new life into the world and helping women choose the right path for their reproductive health.
And I can tell you that nothing is more magical than watching a mother or father lay eyes on their baby for the first time. Nothing. That one gets me every damn time.
I came from a family that didn’t place much value on my “hobby” of becoming a physician. Not to complain, because I’ve lived a life of luxury that most people cannot fathom, but because I come from old money, I’m looked at like a three-headed monster in my family for choosing to work. Unlike my brothers, Sebastian and Mark, who are perfectly content to live off the Aster’s generational wealth, I wanted more. I’m well aware that I have no need to work now or ever, but I couldn’t imagine a life hopping from yachts to galas to weekends in The Hamptons without purpose.
Nevertheless, my career path was almost tantamount to all-out familial rebellion, and I had to be grateful that my parents allowed it at all. Maybe being the youngest in the family afforded me the luxury of not following all the family rules, which were laid out before my great-grandfather was even born.
I came from old money, as everyone in my family liked to remind me, and that means you’re automatically supposed to think you’re better than everyone else. God forbid you made your fortune recently; you’d be considered an upstart. New money is earned, while old money is handed down over generations. Even amongst the one-percenters, there are classes; ridiculous, right?
The thing about old money is that it isn’t flashy. My mother’s plain beige handbag costs more than twenty grand, but you’d never know it, unlike people with new money who tend to wear their brands from head to toe. It’s also an unwritten rule to devote much of their time and money to charities as a way to give back to society.
And that is how my parents have justified my career in medicine. They allow me to “give back” to society through a medical career as if I don’t also get a salary to do so. I don’t dare correct their delusions; I’m just happy to be able to do what I want. As long as I’m not expected to settle down with the perfect wife—who has been raised properly and understands what it means to be an Aster—like my brothers, I have no complaints. I’d rather die a bachelor than ever deal with my mother organizing a wedding.
My God, the thought made me shudder.
Luckily, I had no hopes or dreams of starting a family. My own family was headache enough, and the last thing I’d ever want is to drag anyone else into it. Besides, I couldn’t imagine ever marrying any woman my mother would deem acceptable anyway. My mother came from old money herself, so she knew exactly who she was looking for in a daughter-in-law, and she knew what it meant to become worthy of the name Aster.
I probably wouldn’t be thinking about any of this if I weren’t expected in Martha’s Vineyard next weekend for my niece’s christening. Knowing I must endure the typical family function was enough to even take the fun out of surprising Dr. Mickie this morning.
Speaking of the devil, as soon as I walked into the cafeteria, my eyes were drawn to the table where Mickie sat with two of the new interns. I might not have followed the rules in high society, but I did follow my personal rules for not dating colleagues at this hospital.
And until today, I’d never been tempted to break it. Many beautiful women worked at Saint John’s, but none looked like the Amazonian goddess before me. She had big green eyes and long, shiny light brown hair that looked like it’d been streaked with blond after many days in the sun. She was gloriously tall and tanned, and even though her scrubs were hiding her physique, when I saw her at Avalon, I couldn’t help but notice how fit she was. She had the body of a natural athlete, muscular and toned, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had a six-pack.
Like a big, stupid magnet, I was drawn straight to Mickie and the three others she sat with.
“I hope the dining hall meets all of your expectations,” I said, like a complete dipshit.
I didn’t note the other interns’ reaction to my lame remark, but I did notice Mickie’s. Her nose wrinkled in a cute way that made her eyes glitter. I smiled but pulled my eyes away, not wanting her or the others to think I was interested.
“Dr. Ling,” I addressed the doctor to her right, a young Asian woman who I could already tell was the life of any party she attended. “Dr. Fletcher,” I nodded to the next intern, a petite woman with hair so blond it looked gray, and I saw that both women were not eating a thing, “I hope both of you enjoyed a large breakfast because it’s not uncommon in our unit to get called into delivery two seconds after sitting down to eat.”
“I think my issue is nerves,” Dr. Fletcher responded, twisting a napkin in her hands. “I shouldn’t admit that to you, though, Doctor.”
“I’m happy you did,” I answered with a smile. “Trust me, the nerves will go away soon enough; however, I can’t have you collapsing during a delivery because you haven’t eaten.”
“I’m just going to stuff a granola bar in my face and hope it does the trick,” Dr. Ling said with a grin and a shrug as Mickie and Dr. Fletcher laughed.
“Listen, things will be fun on our ward. We all take care of each other here. Dr. Alan is a kind and patient man, and we’re all very supportive of one another. I know things can get competitive, but we want the best for our people,” I said, feeling them locked onto every word I said. “The hours can take their toll on you, but that’s only if you allow it. We like to have fun when possible because the not-so-fun times can be overwhelming. I want all of you to be comfortable to come to me with anything, okay?”
The doctors nodded, and I engaged in some small talk, but the longer I stood there, the more I could sense that Mickie seemed uncomfortable. Hopefully, it was just her nerves too, but something told me we might be off to a rocky start.
