Page 40 of Fourteen of a Kind

“You are not twenty-one yet,” I smiled, taking it from her.

“Dad said he seems nice,” Nicholas said, sitting on the stool at the island. “But?—”

“But what?” I narrowed my eye.

“He said he’s a lot older than you. He’s uncomfortable with it.”

“He’s eight years older than me. Big deal. That doesn’t matter at my age.”

“Just saying, sis. If things get hot and heavy with the doctor, Dad will have the talk with you.”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed.

“Okay, you two. I’m going to bed. I have to be in surgery tomorrow at six a.m.”

After they left, I locked up and headed up the stairs.

The following morning, I went to pre-op to see my patient before they took her to the O.R.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bentley.” I checked her vitals.

“Good morning, Dr. Kind.”

“Are you ready to get that valve replaced?” I asked, placing my hand on hers.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “I’ll see you in the O.R.” I gently squeezed her hand. I glanced at Mr. Bentley, who sat in the chair next to his wife’s bed. “The surgery will take several hours. One of the nurses will take you to the surgical waiting room. As soon as the surgery is complete, I’ll come talk to you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kind.” He smiled.

I went to the scrub room, and as I was scrubbing in, all I could think about was Graham and our date last night.

“Good morning,” My Uncle Christian walked in.

“Morning, Uncle Christian. You have surgery this morning?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in the O.R. next to you. So, I heard you and Dr. Malone had dinner last night.”

“Of course you did.” I smiled.

“I like him. Did he tell you that his father was a surgeon here?”

“No.” My brows furrowed.

“He was a surgical oncologist. I didn’t know him personally, but I’d heard of him. Apparently, he was one of the best. It’s a shame he had a heart attack at a young age.”

“Yeah. That’s too bad.” I finished scrubbing in. “Good luck with your surgery.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

I walked into the operating room and was gowned and gloved by Stacy, one of the surgical nurses.

“We’re going to put you to sleep now, Mrs. Bentley.” I smiled.

“Patient is out,” Marty, the anesthesiologist, said.

“Let’s get her connected to the machine,” I spoke.

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