“Yeah, this is Cortland Sabrowski. His gastroschisis surgery is planned for the end of the month. I didn't expect we'd get the chief,” Mindy said, and Roan wisely didn’t contradict her.
“I am the anesthesia chief.” Roan attempted to sidle past the nurse, only to be blocked by Mindy clearing her throat.
“Chief Marin, you must remove your white coat and scrub all the way up to your elbows for a full two minutes at the sink.” Mindy might have said it pleasantly, but the steel beneath her words made it clear she wasn’t going to let him come any closer. Clarissa bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
After Roan set his white coat on an empty chair and headed over to the nearby scrub sink, Mindy watched him like a hawk in a combination of professional interest and less-than-professional interest. “Wow. He’s the chief, and he didn’t grumble. Wow.”
Honestly, Clarissa was feeling the same way. He appeared so dashing and handsome, even polite and almost friendly. She was further warmed by knowing he had come down for no other reason than to see her on her birthday. They’d be together in the evening for the party, but that was hours away.
Even more, he had listened to her talk about her schedule enough to arrive in the window after rounds and before lecture. Perfect, hot, bad daddy boyfriend.
After appropriately scrubbing for the mandatory two minutes, he returned to the bedside, and Mindy directed him to hand sanitize, even though he hadn’t touched anything. Without complaint, he put on gloves and disinfected the otoscope and Cortland’s specific stethoscope from the counter.
As he made a show of listening to Cortland’s heart and lungs, his eyes wandered over Clarissa. She tried not to blush, because Mindy was equally interested in Roan.
“Are you the doctor taking care of this little guy?” Roan asked Clarissa for Mindy’s benefit.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Morgan, second-year pediatrics resident. He’s almost four months old with unrepaired gastroschisis and is planned for closure with Dr. Tiffany on April 29th.” Clarissa supplied the information that Roan would have already been aware of had he actually been in the NICU for a consult.
“Then I trust we don’t have to worry that he’ll remain NPO. He has a 24 gauge PICC line in his right antecubital?”
“That’s correct,” Mindy said, important since Clarissa hadn’t put the PICC line in, nor did she ever handle it.
“Good. Let me check his airway.” Clarissa used her pointer finger to push on Cortland’s chin, opening his mouth for the exam. Cortland resisted because he had never eaten anything by mouth and wasn’t sure what they were doing.
Roan shined the otoscope light inside while Cortland kept fighting against Clarissa’s hand. “Good enough. How did he do post-op the first time?”
“No issues except the repair failed,” Mindy said.
Clarissa let go of Cortland’s chin, and he started crying in confusion. She squeezed his toy, cycling to his favorite song, the ‘Got to Sleep’ lullaby. “Shh, it’s okay, Cort. Mr. Glowworm will make it all better.”
As she hummed along, she felt Roan’s gaze on her. Heat rose up her face, wondering what he was thinking.
“He likes this lullaby more than Frère Jacques,” Clarissa explained, unable to read Roan’s expression.
His eyes were darting from her to Cortland. “I’d expect so. It’s the Wiegenlied by Johannes Brahms, written with a secret melody for the birth of a son to his first love.”
“Holy... I mean, you are very knowledgeable, Chief Marin.” Mindy might have been on the verge of passing out, and Clarissa sharing that wavelength. Her ovaries were screaming all sorts of interesting thoughts about making babies with Roan.
“What does Wiegenlied mean?” Clarissa tried not to butcher the pronunciation.
“Lullaby in German. While music isn’t my forte, I had pretty eclectic reading choices in the ship’s library during my deployments,” Roan said, still focused on the two of them.
If Clarissa didn’t break the spell soon, she’d blurt out a bunch of insanity, so she tried to return to the medicine. “You should pass it onto his anesthesia team to help calm him.”
“Is he on the morning or evening schedule?” Mindy asked, back on topic.
“The schedule is always shifting, so I expect it to be a mid-morning to lunchtime OR time.” Roan disengaged and put the equipment back. “Glad he’s stable. Make sure he has a CBC and full set of CMP with LFTs the night before with an accurate weight.”
“We weigh him every day,” Mindy humphed, slightly affronted.
Recognizing that Roan was winding down this discussion, Clarissa said, “We better hook him back up now. I'm sorry, Cort. I'll see you in a few days.”
She set him gently in the crib as Roan retrieved his white coat and headed out of the NICU.
Mindy let out a long exhale after he disappeared out the doors. “That is hot. Strong, sexy, sensitive, and well-read Wow. None of the neos look like that. Where did they find him? A Navy recruitment magazine?”
Clarissa hid her grin at Mindy’s assessment of Roan’s sensitivity. “The gossip on OB about him was pretty similar.”
