Page 71 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I stood on the sidewalk long after she disappeared from view, hands in my pockets, the wind rustling petals from the garden we’d planted together. Some floated down onto the grass, soft and sure. Others danced in the breeze like they didn’t care where they landed.

That was Ruby. Unpredictable and untamable, but always beautiful in motion.

I was just turning toward the porch when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I hesitated, then picked up. “Dr. Cole speaking.”

“Dr. Cole, this is Melissa from St. Julian’s Cardiac Center in New York. I’m reaching out on behalf of Chief Graham. He wanted to personally thank you for the consult on Ava Langston.”

My chest tightened. “She’s doing well?”

“Better than expected. Your notes were brilliant. We’ve reviewed your old case files, your success rate… Honestly, sir, it would be an honor to have you here. Chief Graham was hoping you'd consider joining us temporarily. Six months, surgical lead. Flexible scheduling. Competitive compensation.”

The breeze stilled.

Six months.

Not permanent. But not nothing.

“We understand you’ve built something new in Cedar Springs,” Melissa continued gently, “but we also believe your skills are rare. There are lives that only someone like you can change.”

My throat went dry. Ruby’s car was long gone down the winding road. Her dreams blooming in one direction. My past tugging from the other.

“I—can I think about it?” I managed.

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll hold the offer open for a week. Take your time.”

I ended the call and stared down at the screen, my heartbeat steady—but my pulse racing like I was back in the OR.

It had always been easier to walk away from the noise. From the pressure. From the responsibility of being the one people counted on.

But now?

Now I had something worth staying for.

And something worth risking again.

As the morning sun burned through the mist and lit the petals at my feet, I realized—maybe it wasn’t about choosing one life over another.

Maybe it was finally time to figure out how to carry both.

Chapter nineteen

Ruby

The convention center smelled like a florist’s fever dream—jasmine, peonies, eucalyptus, and ambition. The kind of ambition that wore sharp blazers and didn’t sweat under pressure. I, on the other hand, was sweating profusely.

I balanced three armfuls of tangled stems, a folder of scribbled designs, and a travel mug that was mostly melted chocolate at this point. My hair had rebelled somewhere between mile eighty and the hotel check-in desk, and now it looked like a dandelion caught in a windstorm.

Welcome to the regional floral design competition.

Rows of sleek booths lined the room—each one an explosion of symmetry and curated elegance. Crystal vases, imported orchids, mood lighting. I passed a designer arranging white roses with surgical precision, not a petal out of place. She looked like she could’ve stepped out of a bridal magazine. Meanwhile, my table looked like a barn wedding after a windstorm. Burlap. Wildflowers. Twine.

“You're in booth seventeen?” a coordinator in heels that could kill a man looked me up and down. “Rustic charm. Bold choice.”

It wasn’t a compliment.

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