Page 1 of The Exception

One

There was no problem in the world that a list couldn’t fix, and Sonya Pope was an expert level list maker. That’s why even as she squeezed into the last seat on the last flight out of Maui in an escape from what was most definitely the worst day of her life, she was already making lists. Some people ate a whole pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream when things went off the rails, but she preferred something that was going to help her get back on track. Making lists was that thing for her. It was comforting, and right then, she needed a little bit of comfort.

She glanced down to the band of pale brown skin, the only reminder of the simple, emerald cut diamond ring that once adorned the third finger of her left hand. Marcus had given it to her on a trip to Maui last spring and she’d given it back to him earlier that day when he’d called off their engagement.

Twenty minutes before they were supposed to get married.

Eloping hadn’t been on the biggest list—the one titled Sonya’s Life Plan—but she’d allowed Marcus to talk her into it. Believing in signs from God was her mom’s thing, but if it all falling apart wasn’t a sign that she’d better stick to her lists from now on, she didn’t know what was.

Now she was about two hours outside of D.C., trying to figure out how to explain to her friends and (most terrifyingly) her family, that she no longer had a fiancé and her latest list was centered around just that. She’d just typed item number four—move Marcus’s shit out of her condo—when the flight announcement system crackled to life.

“Good evening,” a cheery flight attendant announced. “We have an ill passenger who needs medical attention. If you are a licensed medical professional, and are willing to help, please report to the rear galley.”

Sonya glanced around the plane, expecting someone to respond to the request pretty quickly. There was always a doctor who’d been waiting their whole career for a chance to save the day on a flight and have the story to tell at parties for the rest of their lives. But after about a minute passed without anyone moving, she sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt. Handling an in-flight medical emergency was yet another thing that wasn’t on her list that day, but it was her responsibility as a nurse to help when she could.

She pulled her waist-length braids up into a lopsided bun on top of her head before climbing over the man sleeping next to her, and headed down the aisle toward the rear galley. Besides, focusing more on her work was one of the things she’d added to her new list, and there was no better time to get started on it. If she was focused on her work, she wouldn’t have the mental capacity to overthink and obsess over the end of her longest relationship.

Two flight attendants stood in the aisle near the last row where an elderly woman sat in the window seat with her eyes closed and her forehead pressed against the window. Beads of sweat popped up all across her pale forehead, and she was shaking, as if she was overcome with fear. But Sonya didn’t think that was it.

A man sat in the seat next to her, holding her hand and talking to her but Sonya couldn’t hear what was being said. His hair was a mess of dark blond and he had what looked like a week of growth on his tanned face.

From his profile she decided he was around her age—late twenties, early thirties. Probably the woman’s son or possibly even her grandson.

But it wasn’t him she was there to assess.

The younger flight attendant turned around as Sonya moved closer and a congenial smile stretched across her lips. “The rear lavatory is closed temporarily,” she said. “You can still use the one in the front of the plane.”

Sonya realized she probably didn’t look the part of a medical professional in the short tropical dress she hadn’t had time to change out of before catching her flight, but she’d expected to at least be given a chance to introduce herself before being dismissed.

“I’m a nurse. I’m here to help with the medical emergency,” she explained.

“Oh! Thank you for answering the call, but we have all the help we need. Dr. Travis is handling the situation.”

Sonya nodded, wishing she’d seen Dr. Travisbeforeshe’d played semi-NSFW Twister to climb out of her seat. The thought of going through that again made her shudder, but there was no reason for her to stick around. Dr. Travis had everything under control.

She’d just steeled herself to walk away when a different flight attendant emerged from the galley with a glass of what looked like orange juice.

“Here’s the juice you asked for,” she said, handing the glass to the doctor.

He turned his head and grinned at the pretty blonde, giving Sonya her first real look at his face and his warm blue eyes that crinkled up at the corners with his smile.

“Thank you,” he replied. He had a slight accent that brought back memories of the frat boy bros she’d gone to school with back in Virginia as the pieces of the medical emergency puzzle clicked together in her mind.

There was a split second there when she thought about just keeping her mouth shut and going back to her seat. The guy was a doctor, so he obviously knew what he was doing, but she couldn’t stop the words before they started spilling out of her mouth.

“There are glucose tablets in the plane’s first aid kit. Those are better for hypoglycemia than orange juice, especially since we don’t know her medical history.”

He paused, shifting his attention to her, and she felt his eyes drift across her body from head to toe before landing on hers.

“I think the orange juice will work just fine,” he countered with a smirk that plucked her last nerve. She’d always thought that Cockiness 101 was a core class in medical school and this guy must’ve aced it.

She folded her arms over her chest and frowned. “It’s okayifyou don’t have glucose tablets. But we have them so we should use them. If she has underlying kidney issues, orange juice could do more harm than good, plus the glucose tablets are faster.”

Ignoring her frown, his smirk stretched into a full grin. “Look, thanks for the advice,” he said, “but I think we’re good here.”

Was he… dismissing her? He’d definitely heard her tell the flight attendant that she was a nurse. She’d never allowed doctors to talk down to her before and she wasn’t about to start.

“What was your name again?”

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