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Disgusted, I pull out and zip up my pants. I don’t even know why I keep trying. I never come.
Well, there was that one time, but the poor woman had to suck me off until she was blue in the face.
I walk out of the apartment, not looking back. I just want to get home, take a shower, and get myself off to my memories of Leigh.
???
LEIGH
(Present Day…)
“Baxter, you’re going solo today.”
I almost fall off my chair as I swivel around. Dr. Magliato holds a file out to me, which I take.
“It’s a valve replacement,” she throws over her shoulder as she walks away.
“But I still have another six months to go.”
“You’re ready, Baxter.”
I grin at the huge compliment and do my best to stay professional. It will be frowned upon if I jump all over Dr. Magliato with happiness.
I’m left standing at the nurses’ station, holding my first solo file.
“Congrats,” Sebastian sings, winking at me.
I look at him as the gravity of the moment sinks in.
“As of right now, I’m a cardiothoracic surgeon,” I whisper.
“You deserve it, baby-girl,” he says, getting up and hugging me.
Sebastian has become one of my best friends over the last five years. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve been late on my first day. We got into the elevator together and by the time we stepped out on the right floor, I knew I was going to enjoy working with him.
“Sebastian,” I whisper as a tear spills over my cheek. “It means I’m the youngest cardiothoracic surgeon.”
“We’re celebrating tonight,” he says, already picking up the phone to call Ryan. They’re the most adorable married couple I’ve ever seen. “Hey, delicious, our girl just received her first solo op. We’re celebrating tonight.” He rolls his eyes which makes me chuckle. “Yes, babe, it’s fine if you dress up. I have to go now.” There’s a pause, then he says, “I love my delicious chunk of hunk, and I can’t wait to bow-chicka-wow-wow with you later.”
I grip the file tighter as my eyes start to water from trying my best to keep from laughing.
When he ends the call, I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Bow-chicka-wow-wow? Sounds like someone’s getting lucky tonight.”
“You know it. Now get your pretty ass down to surgery so you can prep, you don’t want to be late.”
I stand on my toes and press a kiss to his cheek before I walk away. I open the file and look at the patient’s details.
“Sixty-five-year-old male. Calcific tricuspid aortic valve stenosis. Coronary vasculature with minor lesions. Peak gradient 62 mmHg, Mean 40. PA pressure: 49.”
I stand to the side as they wheel a patient out of the elevator then step inside. As I examine all the information, I feel a sense of calm wash over me.
I’m going to do this on my own.
Clenching the file to my chest, I do a quick happy dance before the doors slide open.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I close up the patient. There were no complications. At risk of sounding vain, even I have to admit that I did an amazing job.
I remove my scrubs and then go over the patient’s postoperative care.
