Shit.
I grab my phone, stick it in the pocket of my blazer, and walk down the hall to Dr. Stacy Kincaid’s office. She’s one of the managing partners, as well as a practicing physician, so she can be imposing. When I interviewed with her, I liked that about her. Now that I’ve been seeing her at work firsthand every day, it’s less impressive and more of a headache.
She doesn’t look up when I knock on her open door. “Come in, Wynter.”
“I got your message,” I say, unsure whether I should sit down or not.
“Shut the door.” Her tone is cool and my stomach knots.
Am I about to get fired?
I close the door and figure I might as well sit down.
“What’s going on?”
“Where were you this past weekend?”
I squint slightly. “I told you I was going to see my brother-in-law’s band.”
“You did.” She finally looks up and takes off her reading glasses. “What you failed to tell me was that your brother-in-law is a member of Onyx Knight.”
I frown. “I didn’t think that detail mattered.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh, like I’m some kind of moron. “Wynter. There are pictures all over the internet of you and…someone in the band.” She says that last part like it’s distasteful.
“Ross isn’t in the band—he’s their tour manager. We’ve been friends a long time and it’s been turning into something else lately.”
Her gaze is intent, and she seems to be studying me carefully. “You can’t live your life between two worlds.”
“Because I left early on a Friday after working until after eight for three nights?” I ask incredulously.
“No.” She sighs, much more delicately this time. “Look, you’re smart, professional, and well-liked. The issue is that I can already see the pull to be somewhere else. To work late on Thursday so you can leave early on Friday. And believe it or not, I understand. I really do. If the situations were reversed, and I was at a rock concert, but my doctor boyfriend was doing an extraordinary surgery, I’d be thinking of ways to leave early too. I know, it’s a terrible example, but you get my point.”
“I do,” I say slowly. “But I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”
“You have to choose, Wynter. You can’t do this job, at the level of excellence and perfectionism we demand, if your heart and one foot are out the door.”
Holy fuck.
She’s going to fire me.
And I honestly wasn’t expecting it.
“I didn’t realize they were,” I say simply. “Ross and I are new, despite years of friendship. I have no plans to leave.” Well, okay, maybe part of a plan.
“But you don’t want to stay.”
It’s weird when someone else knows you better than you know yourself.
“I can make this easy on you,” she continues. “You haven’t been here long enough to qualify for a severance package, but if I fire you, you can get unemployment and I’ll still write you a recommendation if you need it. You’ve also already paid your medical premium for the month, so you’ll be covered through month-end. The choice is yours, but I think we both know you aren’t happy here. Why torture yourself, Wynter? Life is too short for that.”
All I can do is stare.
I didn’t expect her to be this insightful.
I’m not happy here.
In fact, I hate this job.
