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Chapter Twelve
Adrian
She was distracting as ever.
Even with a mask, gown, and gloves on, I could feel her eyes boring holes into me as I worked. It wasn’t a particularly complicated procedure, and it was one I’d done hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. It didn’t require my full attention, and that only made things worse.
Being in the same room as Stevie was causing my heart and my pride to hurt in a way I hadn’t experienced since my early twenties. Of course, I couldn’t air that thought with an anesthesiologist, several nurses, a couple technicians, and my aiding resident in the room, but I wanted to. I had tried to find the courage to approach her, but the more I stayed away, the easier it was to be a coward. Then I’d walked into the on-call room the night of the car crash, and she’d been there. She’d looked so tired and almostscaredof me. I couldn’t have that confrontation if it was going to hurt her. Despite everything, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. I hadn’t missed the way her eyes looked though, growing sunken with exhaustion, the bones in her face appearing sharper as she missed meals. Had sleeping with me really brought such a depression to her existence?
“Dr. Price,” she asked quietly.
“Yes, Dr. Christophers?” I answered curtly.
“Do you need any help, or…?”
Her voice trailed off, and she was clearly unsure of what to say. I knew I was supposed to test her knowledge of the procedure, of the areas of the heart I was working with, but I had been silent for the two hours and ten minutes we’d been in the theater.
“No, Dr. Christophers. What I need is to have the headspace to concentrate.”
A lie.
“Yes, Dr. Price,” her voice murmured.
She sounded small, and I was torn between wanting to comfort her and return joy to her voice and asking her how she dared to act likeIwas the one hurtingher.
“If you have somewhere you need to be, Dr. Christophers, you may leave. Clearly, this procedure is boring you.”
If I was honest, it was boring everyone. It had been a long time since I’d had an OR so bereft of any kind of talking, any music, and everyone seemed to stand on ceremony—probably held stiff by the tension in the air.
“No, Dr. Price, you’re not boring me,” she said in the same small voice.
I wanted to just drop it all. Walk out of the OR, take her with me, and ask exactly what she’d been thinking. In any case, I hoped she was happy. I hoped she’d gotten what she wanted. I knew I sounded harsh when I spoke to her, but I couldn’t help it. How had I known the girl only five and a half months, and she was already jeopardizing my ability to function. I knew I had a reputation for being difficult to work with, but I didn’t want to become someone so boarish that I drove away my surgical team.
Jonah had been right, she was an extremely smart student, and bound to be a talented surgeon. Wanting her off my service would be insane, and if I was going to have to work with her for the foreseeable future, I should also begin mending fences. Understanding who she was as a person and not as a mistake.
“Dr. Christophers,” I said, “what is the most likely complication we will have to look out for once this patient is in recovery?”
I tried to make my voice more conversational, but it was still very tight. In any case, I thought I felt the room lift a little and everyone gave a slight sigh.
“Infection, Dr. Price,” she answered correctly, but kept going. “This patient is both obese and diabetic, so while we watch for infection, we’ll also need to make sure no extra wounds develop as a result of time spent in bed recovering. Those could also cause infection.”
I nodded, pleased with her answer.
“Well done, Dr. Christophers.”
I asked a couple more questions regarding the procedure, and naturally, she answered them all correctly. Her voice became more confident with each one, and by the time I stitched up the patient, I had begun to believe we could work towards a better professional relationship than we’d been suffering under for the past weeks. The patient was rolled off to recovery, and Stevie and I went to tell the family that it was a successful procedure.
As was fairly standard, they hugged each other, thanked me, and then they were gone, heading up to the recovery waiting room to see their loved one. I loved the satisfaction that came with a successful procedure and was definitely pleased to have rounded off my day with a good outcome.
“We need to talk,” Stevie said quietly.
Her voice was low but firm, and when I glanced down at her next to me, she was staring straight ahead, with her jaw set. She turned her gaze to mine, and there was determination written all over her. I just nodded, not seeing any way I could escape.
“My office?” I asked, hoping to keep it professional.
I had no doubt she was going to call me out for my lack of professionalism, and my heart sunk at the thought. She had every right to, but it didn't mean I looked forward to it.
“No,” she said. “I’d rather somewhere that people can’t see us.”
