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Chapter 1
Jude
What a total dick!
I couldn't believe I'd gone out in that snowstorm just because Doctor Scrooge had said so.
Who in their right mind asks someone to drive in a blizzard?
The Devil himself, Dr. Antonio Montivais.
By thirty-two, he was a sensation in Cardiothoracic surgery.
His bedside manner, on the other hand, felt more like a cold winter's touch than the cozy warmth of a fireplace.
In the OR, his artistry was next-level, making the most complex surgeries look like he was conducting surgical symphonies. Every motion was executed with precision and grace - something he was lacking in the personality department.
Nurses were captivated, hanging onto his every word, drawn not just to his surgical prowess but also his striking Spanish features and charming accent.
All nurses, that is, except for yours truly.
With jet-black hair, a jawline that seemed carved from stone, and skin kissed by the Mediterranean sun, he looked as if he'd jumped out of a classic romantic novel.
The man didn't just wear his looks; he exuded confidence from every pore.
While I admired doctors with inherent talent, it's hard to respect those dripping with unchecked pride.
In my eyes, his striking appearance and remarkable skills were overshadowed by an overbearing ego that made him challenging to endure - and that was on a good day.
He had a habit of cutting all RN staff members off mid-sentence, yet, mystifyingly, I seemed to be his favorite target.
And the worst part? He didn’t even know my fucking name!
The wind howled with fury, as if nature itself resented Dr. Montivais for the ordeal he was subjecting me to.
Beside me, Sadie trotted with her tail wagging in blissful ignorance. It's remarkable how dogs maintain their calm, even when their owners are on the brink of unraveling.
Lugging the hefty files, my arms threatened to buckle as I navigated across the parking lot to my car.
Sadie, my service dog and ever the enthusiast, bounded into the passenger seat the moment I swung the door open.
"You know, Sadie," I sighed, "I could really learn from your impeccable knack for not giving a fuck."
In response, Sadie offered a knowing bark, essentially saying, ‘Time's a-wasting, Mom. Let’s roll!’
With a grunt, I managed to heave the box into the back seat.
I was on a mission.
Proving myself and showcasing my dedication was the only ticket to make Dr. Montivais even consider me for that coveted OR management role I'd been chasing relentlessly.
Sadie, sensing my rising frustration, nudged me gently. When I looked over, she woofed in a tone that clearly said, ‘Chill, Mom. Maybe it's time for a snack break?’
I sighed. Sometimes, I felt like Sadie was the parent in our relationship. Once I started the car and had the heat going, I rummaged in my medical bag for my glucometer. With practiced ease, I pricked my finger.
Sadie’s soulful eyes watched me intently as I waited for the result. There was something comforting about her gaze. It was like she was telling me she had my back, through snowstorms, finger pricks, and asshole doctors.
The glucometer beeped, and I glanced at it. Remarkably, despite the stress I was under, my levels remained stable.
