Page 98 of Six Month Wife
But I can’t accept it without addressing the ticking time bomb.
“Before I say anything, I need to be up front.” I glance between them. “There’s an article circulating online. It came out this morning. It paints a pretty slanted picture about the inheritance my uncle left me and the terms tied to it.”
Gunner leans back, arms crossed. Kowalski’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the flicker of interest behind his eyes.
"Inheritance?"
“It’s a smear campaign,” I continue. “Someone’s trying to spin this to discredit me and sway public perception to put the squeeze on the probate. But the facts in that article are twisted. None of it changes how I show up for my patients or how seriously I take this profession.”
"I'm not following. I guess I need to read the article you're talking about, but how does this impact moving to general surgery?"
I bite the inside of my cheek as I think about how to put this. “It paints me as a money-hungry and transactional person and says I'm planning to move to DC. None of that could be further from the truth."
"Oh, I see," Gunner says.
“I also want to be clear that Adair, my wife, has nothing to do with this circus. She didn’t ask for any of it. And she sure as hell doesn’t deserve to be dragged into it.”
Kowalski nods slowly. “Appreciate the transparency about all of this. I'm sorry you're going through it.”
Gunner meets my gaze. “I’ll have to discuss it with the board, I’m sure you know. But between us, as far as I’m concerned, the offer still stands.”
“Parker,” Kowalski interrupts, his tone firm but kind. “You’re the right guy. You’ve got the skills, the drive, and most importantly, the heart. That’s what makes a great surgeon. I'm a surgeon first, so I'll leave the business end of things to the board. But your candor right here speaks volumes.”
The next morning,the hospital is already humming by the time I make it in. Rounds are quick, steady. I keep my head down and do the work.
I don’t expect to see Gunner again so soon, but there he is outside the stairwell near the break room with his arms crossed and coffee in hand.
“Matthews.”
"Oh, Morning, Gunner. Did you get the link to the article I sent to you yesterday? It's a beauty, huh?”
“Follow me.”
He doesn’t say more until we’re in a quiet corner of the admin wing. The boardroom door is shut. A few scattered papers sit on the table from a morning meeting.
Gunner leans against the doorframe. “The board met for an emergency meeting last night. Since we had already discussed you, we were able to video in the members not here and still have quorum.”
My spine straightens.
“They all had a chance to read the article,” he says flatly. “I won’t lie, there were some questions. But Kowalski and I both went to bat for you. We told them what kind of doctor you are, what kind of man you are.”
I hold his gaze. “So?”
“They’re all still on board. We want you as assistant general surgeon.”
Just like that. There it is.
I let the breath go slowly. The weight of everything hits at once. The months of uncertainty, the nights questioning whether I was still chasing the right dream.
“Wow.”
Gunner shrugs. “You earned it. But I need to know soon. We want to announce it next week.”
“Can I have 24 hours?”
His eyebrows lift.
“It’s not hesitation,” I add quickly. “I need to talk to someone first. My wife.”
