The rest of the morning goes by in a blur with patients stacked back-to-back, consults bleeding into hallway drive-bys, and a steady stream of bad jokes from interns and patients. When I finally check the clock, it’s past one. My stomach growls loud enough to embarrass me.
I slip out through the main entrance, shimmying into my coat and tugging my scarf tighter against the wind. I’m halfway across the walkway toward the parking lot, thinking about what I’ll order at the little deli across the street, when I smack into something solid.
A someone. Zac. Snow dusts the shoulders of his houndstooth heavy coat, melting into damp specks. His dark-brown eyes warm when they land on me.
“There she is—super doctor.”
I cross my arms and let out a groan. “That title got old so fast.”
“Not to me.” He taps his chest twice, then lowers his voice. “Walk with me.”
He stretches his arm toward the other side of the parking lot and falls into step with me. Once we reach his car, he opens the passenger door of his truck and offers his hand. He jogs around to the driver’s side, slides in, and we just look at each other. His pupils are huge, swallowing almost the entirety of his dark-brown irises, when he leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips.
We’ve never kissed in public before. We’ve been friends for several months and spent a good amount of time in each other’s company, but we’ve agreed to keep it loose, more friendly than romantic. In fact, we’ve crossed the line less than a handful of times—and it’s for the best since we’re both recovering from past hurts.
“I’ve got goodies,” he says, chin tilting to the center console.
There’s a Loom & Latte bag and a steaming hazelnut coffee waiting for me. He hands me the cup; the scent hits—warm, hazelnut, comforting. One sip is enough to tell that he made sure it had oat milk. It’s perfect, and yet, low in my belly, something shifts—an old ache, faint but sharp-edged. Zac’s eyes aren’t the right shade of brown. I shove that thought down, hard.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I brought you a sandwich too.” He leans over the console, handing me the bag.
“Hmmm. I can’t wait to stuff my mouth.”
He grins. “BLT. Your favorite.” He gestures toward the bag.
There’s a glitch inside me I can’t quite name, if anything, it’s absence. I used to have someone who’d volley back, tease without even thinking. That flicker’s got to go too.
I eat while he talks about redesigning the layout of his gearshop for the upcoming hiking season. He moves his hands as if he’s rearranging shelves in the air.
When we head back toward the hospital entrance, he reaches out for my hand and tugs me closer. He doesn’t pull me against his chest or wrap his arm around my waist, and I lift my gaze to his.
“I know we’ve been casual. I enjoy this friends-with-occasional-benefits arrangement…” He slides his free hand behind his neck and his cheeks pinken, but maybe that’s just the cold. “But now that your contract’s been extended… maybe there could be something else too?”
He isn’t pressing. He’s… offering. Tilting his head, he smiles, and it makes something thump low in my stomach.
“I don’t know, Zac. You know I…” I shift my coffee in my free hand, my thumb worrying the rim. “I was in a relationship right before moving. What you don’t know is I thought he was the one, you know?” My throat tightens at the thought of it. “And then his best girl friend decided to move back to town, and within a month, he was making out with her as a ‘joke’ and pretending it wasn’t a problem. Hiding lunches, breakfasts.”Telling me my career choices pushed him to do it.
It’s so much worse recounting it even months later. I was so sure back in Chicago that if I just focused on work, a new place would take care of all the heartache for me… and yet rather than resetting my feelings, it sent me off the deep end even more than when everything happened. I want to add:And now solid isn’t enough anymore. I don’t know how to trust that I’m safe and things won’t collapse overnight.
But when I open my mouth, he shakes his head.
“Just think about it, we’re both figuring things out. You know I have my own disaster I’m dealing with. If it feels right, bring it up Thursday. If not… no harm, no foul.”
He adjusts the cuff of his jacket, then gives me a slow reassuring wink. The thump in my stomach turns into a rattling,coiling sensation, but I smack it down before it grows legs, and walk back into the hospital. Smiling and nodding is easier than telling him I don’t think I have enough trust in me for whatever he’s asking we try.
While signing charts and reviewing labs, I am thinking about what I’ll tell Zac. It’s what I’m thinking about when Dr. Raymond finds me.
“I was looking at your outcomes from last month,” he says, standing next to me and adjusting his metal frame glasses. “Your observation notes are exemplary. I want you to consider putting in more lab hours.”
I blink. He knows my contract extension didn’t change my allocations—I’m still seventy–thirty, clinic first, research second. My instinct kicks in, the old Chicago reflex: straighten spine, neutral face because compliments back there came with strings attached that demolished my self-esteem, first the praise, then the fallout.
“Dr. Raymond?—”
“Your clinic hours are extremely flattering too,” he continues, reviewing his red clipboard and dragging his hand through his gray hair. “You’re showing flexibility of thinking and adaptability to excel in both settings. Our fellows are usually suited for one and abysmal in the other.”
Something soft loosens in my chest—pride, uncomplicated and warm, mixed with relief that the work I love is actually showing.
