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Seeing a mother and father, maybe siblings and grandparents, frantic over a little one sharply contrasts with how my father hates me. My mother, an angel in the ether, because she chose to be cremated, would be appalled at what my father turned into.
“Doctor!” The girl’s mother, Alyssa, waves to me from a vending machine near the elevator bank.
I jog that way and hold up my hands with a smile on my face.
“I repaired the damaged arteries. She’s going to be good as new.”
“Oh, thank God.” Alyssa throws her arms aroundme.
“Thank you, Doc.” Lips quivering, her husband squeezes my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I told them not to trust you.” A woman stands off to the side with a scowl. “All you care about is profits.”
“Vi, stop it,” Alyssa hisses.
I hold my tongue because whoever this woman is, she’s really talking about my family. They’re the profit whores.
“Yeah, support your sister and your niece, Vi,” the husband echoes. “This man saved Mia’s life. And we don’t have to lose our house to pay for it. He’s not charging us a penny.”
“Nothing is free.”
My gut burns, but I made the mistake of arguing with a nay-sayer before only to be secretly filmed denouncing my family, which of course got back to them.
“My foundation picks up the costs,” is what I say. “Allof them.”
“That included your plane ride, your hotel room, and your meals. So shut your trap,” Alyssa snaps at her sister and then faces me. “I am so sorry.”
“It happens all the time,” I say, exhaling. “I only care what you and Mr. Northam think. I chose this case because I wanted to help Mia.”
I don’t mention I have a waiting list. That stresses parents out.
“My team is finishing up, and we’ll be bringing her to the recovery room soon. I just wanted to give you an update.”
“Thank you, again.” Alyssa gives me another hug, and it makes me miss my mother.
“We’ll talk more when she’s in recovery.” I shakeboth of Mia’s parents’ hands one final time. “She’s out of the woods.”
As I walk away, my phone dings. I switched it on when I left the OR, but didn’t check messages.
I hope it’s Bernadette.
She lost her parents, too. Perhaps this connection is driving the bond between us. It’s so undeniably strong, but also unsettling because I’ve never fallen for a woman like this.
Smiling, I glance at my phone.
Ford.
Shaking off being disparaged by a stranger, I call him back, not gaming out what I should say. It may have something to do with Bernadette.
She’s the only reason we’re speaking.
If you can call it that.
“Hey, it’s me. I just got out of surgery.”
“Everything good?” Ford asks, his deep voice sending a heated wave through me.
God, I miss that baritone twang in my ear while he fucks me.
