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Emma narrowed her eyes. “And if they do call you, who will you be, the Devrys’ daughter or Rick Evans’s wife?”
“I’m going to be Dr. Marilyn Devry-Evans.” Marilyn wasn’t reliving this argument. “I’ve told them I’m not bringing my parents into this partnership. Rick isn’t a part of this, either.”
“But the partners are concerned about what his image will do to their practice.” Emma fed herself another forkful of lasagna.
Marilyn took a long drink from her bottle of water. The ice-cold liquid soothed her. “What would you do if you were me?”
Emma straightened in the bright orange hard-plastic chair. “I’d realize that I had to make a choice between my job and my husband.”
Marilyn’s breath lodged in her throat. “Why?”
Emma made a face, part surprise, part impatience. She counted her fingers. “The partners told you they’re concerned about Rick’s image. Your boss warned you that he doesn’t want the media disrupting the hospital. Your patients are turning against you because your husband has lost his basketball magic.” Her friend spread her hands. “It’s obvious that if you want to get back to a normal life, you’re going to have to leave Rick.”
There was a buzzing in Marilyn’s ears. “You think I should sacrifice my marriage for my career?”
“It’s not just your career. He’s turned your whole life upside down.”
“But what you’re proposing would turn my life upside down again.”
Emma’s regard was steady. “It would be different if you were happy in the relationship, but you’re not. I warned you not to marry him.”
Her friend’s condemnation stung. Marilyn took a moment to pull her thoughts together. “Every relationship goes through a difficult period. No marriage is perfect one hundred percent of the time.”
“But you said yourself that, even though you may love Rick, you don’t think you can live with him.”
It hurt to have those words repeated back to her. “I’m hoping that Rick and I can work things out.”
“What if you can’t?”
She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to consider that she couldn’t have a happily-ever-after with Warrick.
“Lena, you’re appointment isn’t until next week. How are you?” Marilyn pulled the door to the examination room closed behind her later that afternoon.
Lena Alvarez, her pregnant patient who was close to her final trimester, sat fully clothed on the examination table. Her café au lait skin glowed in the ruby red, scoop-necked cotton dress. She’d propped her overburdened silver purse beside her. “Not so good, Doc.”
Marilyn’s heart thumped once with concern. She crossed to stand in front of her patient. She took Lena’s wrist and checked her pulse. “Are you in discomfort?” She counted the seconds on her silver Rolex.
Lena gently slipped her wrist from Marilyn’s grasp. “Only my heart.”
Marilyn lifted her gaze to Lena’s. “What?” She sensed the other woman was nervous but not in distress.
Lena rested her hands on her stomach. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my baby since my last doctor retired. I do. But I’m going to have to find another doctor. I wanted to tell you in person.”
Marilyn glanced at Lena’s stomach, rounded in her sixth month of pregnancy. “Why?”
Lena squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I don’t want my baby delivered by a doctor who doesn’t support the Monarchs.”
Marilyn’s lips parted in shock. Her eyes stretched wide. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want—”
“Lena, your reason doesn’t make sense. What do the Monarchs have to do with your pregnancy?”
Lena’s rounded cheeks flushed. She poked Marilyn in the chest with her right index finger. “You see? You don’t care about the Monarchs. If you did, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
Marilyn’s eyebrows crinkled with confusion. Were Lena’s hormones triggering her irrational behavior? “Of course I care about the Monarchs. My husband works for them.”
Lena rubbed her stomach. “Then why are you putting the team—putting your husband—through this?”
