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Then Wood had remarried, moved out, and Greg still had not received an invitation to her place. They always liaised at his rented apartment near the hospital. He’d actually been hoping to change that. As months passed, and they still enjoyed each other’s company, he’d found Elaina on his mind from the moment he awoke in the morning. He’d been thinking he wanted her beside him in bed in the morning, rather than just her image in his mind, and that maybe they should live together—had even been considering accepting the permanent ED position Oceanfront had offered him six weeks before—when Elaina had abruptly broken things off with him.
Having had time to reflect on the matter since, he realized that the breakup was not only inevitable but in good timing. He’d been about to embark on a path and make past mistakes again, push for something before it could get away from him, and end up with another life mess to clean up.
Much better that he focus his efforts on eight-year-old Brooklyn George, the patient whom he’d had Elaina test that afternoon. A recent meeting of a special hospital charting committee to which they’d both been assigned, had led to a suspicion that some in the hospital weren’t following protocol as carefully as necessary. The committee of four had been established to spot-check charting in all departments for compliance. They’d discovered some discrepancies in chain of command for medication distribution. He and Elaina had had a specific conversation, just the two of them, one night over dinner when they’d still been seeing each other, regarding the possibility of problems in drug administration. They’d brought up a particular nurse, but hadn’t mentioned her to their colleagues, not wanting to hurt this woman’s reputation if they’d been wrong. They had reported her to hospital personnel, and while they had no knowledge of the outcome of the issue, the nurse was still on staff. And was the nurse who’d been responsible for administering medication to Brooklyn the last time the child had been in the hospital.
While his personal life, in terms of relationships, was pretty much a disaster, he tended to get it right professionally. Probably came from all those years of nerd-dom as a kid. For him, observing others, as opposed to interacting with them, had been the norm. He’d honed an ability to read people with whom he wasn’t personally involved.
Maybe, if he found a way to take a step back, he’d master the ability in nonprofessional relationships, as well. One could always hope.
He turned onto Elaina’s street, slowing as he took in the landscaped spaces and well-maintained homes. He wanted a large yard, as well.
Wanted a home of his own. Maybe something like the white two-story with black shutters he was passing. At the moment, though, he was on the brink of accepting a position in LA, with the promise to himself that once he made that final choice, once he’d found his permanent professional home, he was going to buy a house.
He’d always thought marriage would come first. Discussion of how big a family would follow so he’d know what size house to purchase.
Then he’d found out he couldn’t father children, and the shadowy little figures in his design had faded off the page.
And since his marriage had failed, in large part because of his infertility, he’d changed the course of his life plan.
He was back on track, though. Ready to stay the course. His career was his life and he wanted to own a home.
No more quests for his happily-ever-after.
Finding the address she’d given him, he turned into the long drive. While it was nice, it seemed...pretty much like the rest of them on the street. And on many other upper-middle-class streets all across the nation.
Like his relationships with women, he’d made it into more than it was.
Thank God he was done with all that.
* * *
To meet Greg, Elaina had changed out of her scrubs into a pair of black leggings and a longish beige sweater with short sleeves, and black suede bootlets. Slicking her long, dark hair back in a fresh ponytail, she’d put in a pair of small, plain gold ball earrings Wood had purchased for her on the day their divorce had become final.
He’d said they were a symbol of the bond they’d always have.
It was only later that she’d begun to wonder if they’d been a sign that he intended to remain devoted only to her for as long as she needed him. A sign she hadn’t wanted to see.
Because she’d needed to believe that he felt free to leave anytime he wanted to do so.
And she’d put them on specifically in preparation for her meeting with Greg because she wasn’t going to fall into her old habits. She would not use Greg Adams to ease any of the burden of single parenting as she birthed and raised his child.
She would not let herself become more enamored of him. She would make herself remember that she’d chosen to break up with him, and she most definitely would not let herself build a fantasy world where they became one big happy family.
Beyond that, she would give him as much contact with his child as he wanted. And be completely supportive if he wanted no contact at all.
She’d had several hours to figure it all out and stood firm on her resolutions.
So much so that she barely registered that he’d evidently come straight from work, was still in the light blue scrub pants and white T-shirt that he generally wore to and from the hospital. He kept in his office the scrub shirts and the white coats he wore for work, and changed them as necessary throughout the day.
She’d been in his office, seen the closet full of them...
His slightly curly sandy hair was mussed, as it generally was at the end of a shift, and the bit of stubble shading his jaw was normal after a day’s work, too. Nothing she’d have had to go to bed with him to know.
The expanse of soft hair on his chest...
No reason for her to be thinking about that. So she turned from the door before either of them had even said hello and led the way out to the big backyard.
Retro’s yard, though Wood’s dog didn’t live there anymore. Wood had put in the kiva fireplace that flanked one end of the pool and the outdoor kitchen space off to the left of that, too. He’d planted rosebushes for her, and when she’d suggested it, had built his workshop in the back corner of the yard so it didn’t spoil the naturally landscaped view. She liked the rugged look.
