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A row of picture frames lined the fireplace mantel. Dr. Medina’s eyes zeroed in on them, and he walked over.
He picked one of me at the pool when I was six. “This is you?”
I nodded. “I’m an only child.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Excuse me?” I asked with mock-offense. “It’s my birthday. I will not be put down on my birthday.”
“My apologies, Dr. Ramirez. I meant nothing by it.”
So, we were back toDr. Ramirez.Okay. That was fine. “None taken, Dr. Medina,” I said pointedly.
Next, he picked up a photo from myquinceañera, my coming-of-age party, when I turned fifteen. I winced, and my pride couldn’t take it. I nearly snatched the photo from his hands, but it was too late. There I was, standing next to Dad, in the monster of a dress engulfing me in pink tulle.
Under different circumstances, I would have died before having the classical Mexican coming-of-age party. I would have opted for hell before agreeing to wear the Pepto-Bismol pink monstrosity, but as it was, I couldn’t find it in my heart to say no to Dad.
“That’s, um, a pretty dress—” my boss started to say. He tried to hold back a chortle but failed, and I couldn’t help but smack his arm playfully.
“I did it for my father, okay?”
“No, really, really,” he said between the laughter, “you were a very pretty cotton-candy.”
“Where is your mother in the photo?”
And just like that, all the laughter went out of me. He sensed the clouds behind my eyes and started to apologize.
“It’s okay,” I said. I brought a hand up in a friendly gesture. “She had been gone a while by the time I turned fifteen. It’s been my Dad and me ever since.”
“I’m sorry, Carolina. That must have been very hard.”
We were back toCarolina,and I offered him a weak smile. “It was, though it would have been much worse if my father had been anyone other than the one I got. He really is amazing.”
“He must be,” he said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“To have a daughter like you, he must be pretty amazing.”
“Well, that’s it. The house, as you can see, is pretty small. Not much else to see.”
“Isn’t there an upstairs?”
“Yes, but—” and just like that, he was off toward the stairwell.
I’d forgotten Sara was resting in my room but exhaled when I opened the door and she was gone. The sneaky little twat—she’d get it later. Instead, I found myself in my childhood bedroom with a very tall, very handsome man who was also my boss, barely fitting in the tiny space.
I froze when I realized what he was staring at on the wall next to my bed. It could only be one of three things. He was likely not a fan ofJane Eyre,so it wasn’t that poster. He would certainly get points for being anIndustrial Novemberfan, so it could be the enlargedMetal Red Dayalbum cover thatdrew him to the wall. Even if that were the case, that’s not what he was staring at now. Sandwiched between the two was the first page of the abstract to his first published paper in a journal of medicine.
I forced my legs to move next to him. His mouth was parted slightly, and he swallowed. He was trying and failing to speak, and I couldn’t find what to say in my defense.
If the earth could have swallowed me whole in that moment, I would have dived in head-first.
“Okay, please don’t freak out. It really is not what it looks like.”
He nodded but said nothing as he stared at his name printed on the page so carefully taped to my wall.
“Dr. Medina, I’m sure this must seem really inappropriate, but I swear, I’m not some stalker or anything like that.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve known I wanted to do cancer research since I was ten. I was in high school when I first heard of your work, and at the time, I had no idea you would one day be my boss. I never thought I’d meet you.”
