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As footloose and fancy-free as her mother was these days, she’d had no qualms about being strict when it came to her only daughter. Of course, London hadn’t given her mom a reason to be strict back when she was Nina’s age.
She dropped her head into her palm. She should be buying her sister condoms instead of jewelry-making supplies.
“Well, I guess my weekend just opened up,” she said.
“Wanna go to Vegas?” her mom asked. London stared wordlessly at her. “Fine.” Janette rolled her eyes. “I need to find a more spontaneous group of friends. And younger. You people make me feel old.”
“You would tire out a bunch of middle schoolers,” London told her.
An alert popped up on her phone, reminding her to eat before today’s surgery. The fact that her phone had to tell her when to have lunch said so much about the current state of her life.
And, of course, she hadn’t thought to bring any lunch from home. Nor did she have time to go to the cafeteria for their rubber chicken and clumpy mashed potato special.
“I need to go, Mom. If youdogo to Vegas, try not to marry a stranger at some chapel on the Strip, okay?”
“I make no promises,” Janette said before ending the call.
She would totally come back with a husband. Or, at the very least, a new, younger boyfriend.
Shit, maybe sheshouldjoin her mom in Vegas, now that she wouldn’t be visiting the craft village. She’d probably spend less money at a casino than she would at the yarn shops.
She didn’t need Vegas or a yarn shop to have a good time. She had friends.
Except Samiah was on her way to Philadelphia to meet Daniel’s family, and Taylor had texted last night, canceling their plans for Thai food and math homework in exchange for a cookout at Jamar’s parents’ home near Houston.
“Thank goodness for Drew,” London muttered.
She sat up straight. It was hard to believe those four words had even crossed her lips. What kind of upside-down reality was she living in?
The kind where she was actually looking forward to seeing Drew Sullivan at the end of the day.
The most surprising part? The sex wasn’t the only reason she looked forward to seeing him. Sex had become more like dessert at the end of a good meal—the icing on a cake layered with thoughtful conversation, unbearably silly jokes, and the kind of teasing, lighthearted flirting a girl could become addicted to.
She was comparing time with Drew Sullivan tocake! She truly was living in the Upside Down.
London opened her bottom desk drawer and stared at her stash of snacks: a bag of salted peanuts, Funyuns, and two fun-size Kit Kat bars.
Was there any wonder why she was prehypertensive? She sighed and closed the drawer.
She quickly made her way down to the cafeteria and grabbed a premade spinach, feta, and grilled chicken salad, then spent ten minutes that she really couldn’t spare answering questions about the audit from the cafeteria’s cashier. London had been tasked with educating the nurses and fellow surgical residents about Trident’s role at County, but it seemed as if everyone came to her with their inquiries.
She brought the salad back to her office and scarfed it down while simultaneously reviewing the last of the charts she needed to tend to before Ahmad’s surgery. Then she texted the anesthesiologist, Dr. Samuels, to let him know she would be meeting the rest of the surgical team in the prep room so they could have one final walk-through of today’s surgery.
His response to her text had the same dip London had seen on Janette forming in the middle of her own forehead.
She reread his text. “Change of plans?”
She locked up her office and hustled to the other side of the wing, down the corridor to where the patients’ rooms were located. She arrived at Ahmad’s room to find his parents and Dr. Peter Foster from Oncology standing around Ahmad’s bed. The pensive look on the fifteen-year-old’s face sent a trickle of unease down London’s spine.
What in the hell was Peter Foster even doing in here? The hematology-oncology resident had been working at County for only about four months, and as far as she knew, had nothing to do with Ahmad’s care.
“Good morning, Dr. Foster.” She nodded curtly. “How are you, Sarah? Charles?” she directed to Ahmad’s parents in a friendlier tone. Then she turned to the teen. “Are we ready for today?”
Ahmad looked apologetic. And scared. “Um, I—”
“Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson have elected not to go through with the surgery,” Dr. Foster said.
London’s head swung around, her eyes wide. She was able to stop thewhat the fuckfrom flying from her mouth just in time.
