Sloane.
With Gabriel.
Each holding a cup of coffee.
We locked eyes for a moment that stretched too long until they stepped inside.
“Sloane.” Her name slipped from my lips before I could stop it, too full of emotion. I hoped she didn’t hear it the way I felt it.
I turned to Gabriel and gave him a slight nod. He returned it with a polite one of his own.
As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. He was a good guy—kind, easy to talk to. We exchanged a few words now and then whenever we bumped into each other in the locker room. He was divorced, something to do with his college sweetheart, but I never pried, and he never offered. We weren’t close like that.
He never asked me about Sloane either, though I did catch him once, staring at the wedding ring still on my finger. His brow had creased, like he was trying to figure it out.
“Where are you both heading?” I asked, trying to lessen the awkwardness.
“To the glass balcony on the fifth floor,” Sloane answered. I tried to keep the surprise off my face, but I must have failed. Myeyes dropped to the coffee and the plate of donuts in her hands, and I tried not to think about the quiet, tucked-away spot they were heading to. Back then, at the start of us, that balcony was where Sloane and I used to go when we wanted to be alone, just the two of us, away from everything else.
“Oh,” was all I could manage. “Taking a break?”
“Yeah. I still have another half hour,” she replied.
“Okay,” I muttered.
Luckily, the ride was short. When the elevator stopped, I stepped out. “This is me,” I said, glancing back briefly. “I’ll see you.”
I walked away, each step echoing with the weight of my sins, the ache of what I’d lost, and the throb of a heart still breaking.
I hoped she would find someone better than me.
And maybe Gabriel was that someone.
My phone rang and rang again, almost nonstop.
I kept ignoring it until it bothered me so much that I finally shut it down, relying on my pager instead.
I had a couple of surgeries to prepare for, and I needed my head clear. Distractions like this couldn’t follow me into the OR. Lives didn’t wait for personal crises. Patients didn’t care if your heart was breaking or if your world was falling apart outside those sterile walls. They trusted you with their lives, and that meant everything else had to be pushed aside.
So I went about the work, walking through each step of the procedure in my mind, much like muscle memory. The momentI stepped into the operating room, it was as if I had flipped a switch. My hands were steady, my mind focused. And for a while, the chaos outside couldn’t touch me.
It was a good distraction, at least—the only one I had. The only thing strong enough to pull me out of my head, even if it was just for a few hours.
I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy scheduled, a routine gallbladder removal, and it demanded enough focus to keep my thoughts from drifting.
The surgery went smoothly, and as always, I had to meet with the family to update them on the outcome. I was told they were waiting in the lounge by the lobby, so I headed down.
I found them quickly and shared the good news. Their relief and smiles never failed to remind me why I chose this path. Those moments were the reason I wanted to be a surgeon.
I was about to head back, weaving through the crowded lobby, when I heard my name.
I froze like cold water had been thrown over me.
It took a few seconds to realize I wasn’t imagining it.
She was really here.
Slowly, I turned toward the voice and saw Evie standing there with a nervous smile.
