Page 95 of Love Sick

“Grace—”

The ASCOM blares and we both jump. I answer, barely listening as a nurse gives a quick report on a patient in triage. I can’t look away from Grace even though she’s diligently studying the paper before her, avoiding my gaze.

“I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, Dr. Santini. Today’s your last day, right? We should celebrate.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” I hang up.

Grace hands me the list, but I’m still fixated on her face, the constellation of freckles over her nose, the one on her lip. Checkout is useless. I miss her entire report until she says, “This last girl is the one you need to worry about.”

My attention finally lands on the patient information. The woman is in the ICU. Unusual for OB-GYN.

“She came in through the ER a few hours ago in septic shock from a miscarriage. Positive pregnancy test and bleeding, but the abdominal ultrasound still shows a bunch of crap in her uterus. She wasn’t stable enough to take to the OR right away, and I couldn’t even do an exam because she wasn’t lucid from the fever. One hundred and six! Can you believe that? As soon as she’s stable, you’ll be taking her for a D&C to get it out.”

“Damn.”

“I know. The hard part is she speaks some dialect of Burmese or Tibetan or something. We don’t have a translator for it. Ithinkshe said her last period was six weeks ago.”

“Jesus. What a shit show.”

She rubs her eyes, forehead crinkled. “I really wanted to have her tucked in before you got here, but she was crashing in the ED. Barely conscious. They’ve got her on drips and antibiotics. It shouldn’t be long now.”

“It’s really okay, Grace.” I give her a grin as she cuts her focus to me. “You don’t always have to do all the work.”

A brittle smile lights her face. “Maybe I like to. It’s the last day of the month. I’ll…miss you.”

There it is. She’s so close.

“I’m still here,” I say. “Anytime you want me.”

“I—really?”

I can’t resist brushing my thumb along the corner of her smile. “Really. Say it, and I’ll be there. Whatever you need. Surely you know that by now.”

Her gaze warms as it roams over my eyes, nose, then lingers at my mouth.

Say it. Please just say it.

“Thank you, Julian,” she says instead.

“You’re welcome,Sapphire.”

She hides her smile and swings her backpack onto her shoulder. Pausing, she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

My hopes climb a steep mountain. “Yes?”

“Nothing. Thanks for a good month.” She slips from the room and the hope takes a dive off a cliff.

The girl is cagey AF. What happened to make her this skittish? Maybe what I’m interpreting as interest on her part is really just excessive kindness. Maybe this is her letting me down easy.

Guess I’m going to have to man up and actually ask.

I have to reread the list to orient myself, then head to triage. The blonde nurse at the desk sits straight when I approach. Pulling her name from the dregs of my memory, I smile. “Hey, Taylor.”

“Yours is in room two.”

“What’s her story again?”

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