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“Ready?” Alec says swinging his gaze to me.
I hurriedly put back my phone in my purse. “Yes.”
“Great. We have a hysteroscopy this morning. That’s a procedure to examine the inside of the uterus. Let’s get moving.” His voice is now friendly, but I suspect that’s nothing to do with me but the anticipation of doing something he loves.
“Great.” I get up and follow him to the door.
His shoulders are impossibly wide from behind, and an urge to smooth his shirt comes over me. Heat blooms across my skin as I remember how it felt to fold myself on his chest. Heaven.
He holds the door. “After you.”
“Thanks.” I hope he doesn’t notice my heaving chest as I walk past. I’m trying to act as professionally as I can and don’t want to give him any reason to renege on our agreement.
As we make our way to the operating room, he tells me a little background about his patient.
“The patient is already in the operating room,” Alec says and glances at his watch. “And is probably already under anesthesia.”
He’s a good teacher, and soon, I’m engrossed by the details of ridding the uterus of polyps and other pathologies. By the time we get to the operating room, I have a pretty good idea of what to expect.
There’s an observation room behind a window, and Alec directs me there. It’s above the operating room, and from my position, it’s as if I’m almost looking down at the patient on the table.
It’s exciting to be this close to a patient, and soon my mind is awash with ideas, and I take out my notebook and scribble furiously in it. I’m so engrossed that I almost miss Alec’s entrance. He throws a glance up at me and gives me a little nod.
Watching the procedure is like watching a play where everyone knows their parts. It’s fascinating to watch him and his colleagues as they insert a camera into the woman’s body. It hits me then what important work Alec does. The aim, he told me, was to try and get as many of their female patients to conceive naturally or to at least carry their pregnancies normally. When the procedure finishes, I’m surprised to see that it took half an hour. It feels like ten minutes.
18
Alec
She’s just like the students who come to observe our work, I tell myself as I clean up after the hysteroscopy. Yet when I go to her in the observation room, I blurt out a question that I’d promised myself not to ask as I don’t need validation from anyone. I never have, but I find myself craving Ivy’s approval.
“That went well. How did you find it?” I ask her as I join her in the observation room.
“It was awesome,” she said, her voice low and full of awe. “You guys really do an awesome job. I can just imagine how happy that woman will be when she wakes up.”
Pleasure swamps me. I find myself telling Ivy what we did and what we removed, something I never do. We leave the observation room together and head back to my office as we talk.
She heaps more praises on me, and I feel like the greatest doctor to ever live. It’s frightening how much her words mean to me. Back in my office, Ivy sits in the visitor’s chair and takes out her notebook to scribble in it. I update my patient’s records, but I can’t help glancing at her profile. Her brow is knitted in concentration. I would love to jump inside that pretty head to know what she’s thinking. My gaze drops to her lush, sinful lips, and I long to cover them with mine.
We work silently for half an hour, and then I suggest we go to the cafeteria for coffee before I have to see a few patients.
“I met Dylan here in the morning,” she says. “When I told him why I was here, he invited me to shadow him as well.”
A weird feeling comes over me, which is silly. I want Ivy all to myself. I shake my head in disgust. She’s the same woman who made me feel like crap last night, and here I am fantasizing about her.
“That should be wonderful for your book,” I tell her.
“Yes. Thanks for agreeing to this. It’s really helpful,” Ivy says.
We get our coffees from the counter, and I choose a semi-private table in a small alcove with a window facing out to the gardens.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her, suddenly feeling bad that I’d begrudged her for doing whatever she needs to do to make her book successful. “Tell me the problems you were having. The last time you skimmed the top, and I was left with more questions than answers.”
She stares at me. “You really want to hear?”
“I’d love to.”And I love your voice. I don’t add that last part aloud.
It’s an interesting plot, and I add in a few plot twists, which are related to medicine. Ivy’s eyes glisten with excitement, and as we brainstorm possible scenarios, she takes out her notebook and writes as we talk.
