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“I understand,” I said, suddenly confused by how I felt.
I had a mixture of emotions. I was uncomfortable at the confrontation of these facts, and I was embarrassed that everyone had pieced things together so easily. I was also excited and flattered, but the main feeling I had was fear.
My left brain knew I did not want to date this man—no relationship, nothing—but my right brain was singing a much different tune, giving me butterflies inside and making my heart race with excitement. I didn’t know how to reconcile the two, and I didn’t know which instinct to trust.
“Oh, honey,” she chuckled. “You look like he did when Dr. Albertson called him out on this, and he immediately denied it. You two would make an adorable couple, you know?”
I couldn’t process this. There’s just no way I could be having a day like this. No way. This was either the Twilight Zone or a dream I couldn’t wait to wake up from.
Just then, John walked out of Patient Room 3 and headed toward me. Nothing seemed different about the guy. He wore the same smile today as he did every time he brought a new life into the world.
I had to shrug it off and call it what it was: the strangest morning from hell. That’s it. I had to get out of my head and back into the real world.
“Sorry about being late,” I told John, focused and ready to roll.
“Not a problem,” John answered, distracted by signing paperwork that’d been handed to him. “Your patient, Olivia Johnson, is in room four. She’s still only three centimeters dilated, and I feel some drama coming from that one. Otherwise, everything is caught up.” He finished and handed his paperwork to the nurse, turning back to me and crossing his arms. “Oh, and your patient, Brandy Hightower, delivered a healthy little girl just a few moments ago.”
“Okay. You’re acting a bit strange,” I said. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me that I owe you lunch or dinner for this or even that you’re a little bit pissed?”
He frowned. “Why would I be upset? Your car broke down, gorgeous,” he smiled.
“I know, but you give us hell any time you’re put out. All good humor, of course, but you don’t let us off that easy.”
“Well, I won’t be putting any sugar in the salt container at lunch today,” he teased, referencing a silly prank he’d pulled on an intern a few weeks ago.
I stared into his eyes, trying to analyze why he was so calm, and I quickly realized I shouldn’t have. His hazel eyes had an electric effect on me these days, and now I was feeling my adrenaline spike, wanting to feel his lips on mine again.
God, he was so beautiful.
“Perhaps I should fill you in on the drama going down in Room 4 with Mrs. Johnson and her family?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said. “Is everything caught up so we can?—”
“Everything is caught up, except your brain, apparently,” he said with a humorous voice. “Seriously, let’s get a coffee, and I’ll catch you up.”
“Get a coffee? I just got here three hours late.”
“You can thank me and my amazing skill for staying ten steps ahead and Mrs. Johnson for only being three centimeters dilated,” he guided me away from the nurses’ station. “We’re heading to the café. I’ll catch Dr. Smith up to speed there, and we’ll be back in thirty unless otherwise paged for an emergency,” he said to the staff before we made our way to the small café just outside the maternity ward.
“You know, you’re going to get yourself busted for this shit, and I’ll be right behind you,” I said. “We can’t just walk out when I’m so late and use the excuse that you’re catching me up.”
“We can when there is no emergency and when doctors on our floor do it all the time when they need their breaks,” he said.
“That’s the thing. I’m late. I haven’t been here?—”
“Relax, Mick,” he said, walking up to the counter. “Coffee? Or pumpkin spice and everything nice latte?”
“Well, you’re in a fantastic mood,” I laughed. “Pumpkin spice sounds festive. I’ll have that,” I said. I loved when it was fall, and my favorite flavor was back in the seasonal coffee lineup.
“What is it with everyone and pumpkin spice?” he questioned me, then the barista, who grinned.
“It’s just the time of year,” she answered. “Everyone loves it.”
“Pumpkin and spices should be far from anything coffee-related. But hey, you do you.”
“Then you’ll be having regular coffee?”
“Yes,” he answered. “As black as my soul.”
