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But I thought—we were—
“Yes,” Davis answered a question I’d missed from the host, “Connect is all about bringing people together.”
“Just like the two of you, right?” Millie opened up a canister of metaphorical salt and applied it liberally to the incision in my chest. “You’re practically oozing love over there. Did you two find your connection on the app?”
“No, and actually, the app is meant to connect people platonically.” Davis turned toward Cassidy, an infatuated look spreading across his face. “But the love I’ve found makes me even more passionate about ensuring nobody is ever lonely again.”
Then Cassidy looked back at him with an adoring expression I’d never seen on her. The pair seemed more like they were starring in one of Everett Hardcastle’s romantic comedies than giving an interview to a local morning talk show.
The patient’s bathroom door opened, jarring me back to reality. I was here to see a patient, not watch daytime television. I found the remote and turned the set off.
“Oh, good thing you’re here, Doc.” Mr. Roberts, aged twenty-two, walked gingerly towards the bed, one slow footstep after another. He certainly had deteriorated since I’d seen him the day before.
“I heard you’re having some new symptoms?” I asked, hovering in case the man fell.
My irrational mind couldn’t seem to stay focused on the task at hand. Had Cassie grown tired of waiting for me to ask her out and decided to see Davis instead? She prized ethical behavior. Surely, she realized I’d only resisted until I wasn’t supervising her in any capacity.
And then a week where I could have called her at any time.
But she’d been the one to say she wanted to go on the cruise. I could recall the entire conversation perfectly. “I would love a cruise,” she’d said, just after I told her about my grandma’s ninetieth birthday trip.
The patient sat on the edge of his bed and laid a hand over his belly. “It’s my stomach. I was really hungry, so I asked my nurse for a little snack to take the edge off. He brought me some crackers.”
I looked at the table by his bed and saw the evidence—two saltine crackers in a plastic wrapper. “Okay?”
I took a deep breath. I was known for my ability to stay cool and detached in a crisis, and I could keep myself from dwelling on Cassidy.
Maybe she’d given up on me when I hadn’t communicated with her after she left. Maybe Davis had reached out, asked her on a date and swept her off her feet.
Maybe she’d compared the two of us with the same careful consideration she gave all her work and decided that I was as inadequate as the hospital’s guidelines for healthcare-associated infection prevention. The ones she and Davis had replaced with more current, effective and heavily muscled standards.
“And I was opening the crackers,” Mr. Roberts continued, “when my stomach made a noise like this.” He made a noise like an elephant in pain.
I frowned at him, attempting to concentrate.
His stomach rumbled loudly. “See! There it is again!” He grabbed my arm. “Is it bad? Is my stomach about to explode?”
“That’s the noise?” I confirmed.
He nodded.
“That’s a sign of hunger. You should eat the crackers.” I checked my watch. “And some breakfast.” I didn’t stick around to hear his professions of gratitude.
Cassidy and Davis. I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Clearly, I’d gotten some things wrong. I’d gotten carried away, let myself believe I was “falling” for Cassidy, that there was some kind of mystical force called “love” that could undo a person’s free will.
I already had all the data I needed to confirm my hypothesis: love wasn’t real. There was no force that drew two people together other than hormones. How had I allowed my thinking to become so undisciplined?
I would never let myself make the same mistake again.
