Page 443 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you still have Grandma’s ring?”

Charlotte belongs with me.

Nick: Can we talk?

I stared down at the message. It had been forty-eight hours since he’d sent it, and I was starting to feel like an asshole for not responding. Initially, my reaction had been emotional.

I guess I feared that I would go into that conversation with hope—hope that I’d want to hear what he had to say, that things could be different, that there was still a way to make us work.

A­nd all that hope could only mean a harder fall when I got let down.

But I knew there wasn’t. Nick had made his decision, and he was not the kind of man who took things lightly. When he made a big decision, he made it with careful thought and planning. He lacked that impulsiveness I seemed to be so damn good at it.

Maybe a simple conversation with him will be a good thing? Maybe it will help you move on from this?

Without thinking further into it, or giving myself time to second guess, I went with what felt right in that moment.

Me: Okay. I’m busy tonight, but how about we meet for lunch tomorrow?

I pressed send and slid my phone into my purse. My heels click-clacked down the hallway as I quickened my steps and headed into my shoebox-sized bathroom to put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup.

And a few moments later, I got another text message from an unknown number.

332-111-5555: Good evening, Ms. Hollis. My name is Hugh, and I will be your driver this evening to dinner with Mr. Michaels. I’m sitting outside of your apartment. Feel free to come down whenever you’re ready to go.

Me: Hi, Hugh. I’ll be down in just a sec.

I quickly pressed send on my message and touched up my lipstick before grabbing my phone, purse, and keys and heading out the door.

“To Charlotte Hollis,” Conrad Michaels lifted his glass of wine and grinned at me from across the table he’d reserved for us at La Porro. “A woman who is a true force to be reckoned with, and for whom my organization will always be grateful.”

My cheeks flushed from his complimentary words.

“Wow. Thank you. I honestly don’t know what else to say.” I clinked my glass with his before taking a small sip of the white wine he’d chosen for our meal.

Tonight was a little celebration dinner that Mr. Michaels, the CEO of Kennedy Medical Center, had set up to show his appreciation for the work I’d done for his hospital. He’d even flown in from LA just for this event. Not to mention, the complimentary limo ride from my apartment to the restaurant.

Over the past six months, I’d managed to bring five exceptional surgeons to his organization. And the one he was most thankful for was Dr. Sylvia Morris. She’d officially been at Kennedy Medical Center for three months, and already, she’d trailblazed a path that centered around innovation and patient-focused care.

“You’re a true gem, Charlotte,” he complimented with a toothy grin. “And just know that if there ever comes a time when CMI isn’t treating you right, give me a call. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

My cheeks heated again, and I waved him off. “Stop it, or else my head will get too big to fit out the door.”

He chuckled softly. “All right, for the sake of you being able to leave the restaurant tonight without the use of a bulldozer, I’ll change the topic of conversation for a little while.”

“Thank God,” I teased.

“So, you used to live in LA for a while, right?”

“Yep,” I answered after a small sip of wine. “A little over two years, I think.”

“Which is better,” he quirked a brow, “LA or New York?”

I scoffed. “New York. Hands down.”

Conrad smirked. “So quick to respond. It’s like you didn’t even think it through.”