Page 19 of Hearts on the Table
“Okay. I’m impressed now.”
Chapter 8
Sam
You couldn’t have paid me to go near the purple concoction on Lainey’s tea flight, but her groan of delight made me want to reconsider. And buy her a lifetime supply.
“How do you know Santiago? No offense, but it’s hard to imagine you as friends. You seem so different.”
Her eyes rolled in her head as she sampled another drink. I shifted in my seat, undecided on whether this was amazing or horrible. I frowned down at my coffee, seeking a distraction from the foreplay Lainey was having with her cold foam across the table. “I’ve known him since middle school. He’s practically a brother.”
“And doesheknow why you became a surgeon? That’s what we’re supposed to be doing, you know. Talking about your origin story.”
I swallowed, watching her rub a glass straw across her lip and trying not to become hypnotized. “It’s not that good of a story. Or a long one.”
“Conner said it was a good story.” Lainey widened her eyes, palm pressing to her chest. “Or are you telling me he had some sort of ulterior motive for forcing you to take me out for a coffee?”
“He didn’t force me.”
Her lips tilted up. Something about my response had pleased her.
“Regardless, embellish a little. It’s going to take me a while to get through these.” Ice clinked in her glass. All at once, I felt edgy. My origin story, as she’d call it, wasn’t dramatic or flashy. But, like most people in medicine, it was important to me. It had never occurred to me until now that sharing it was like sharing a part of myself.
I picked at a pastry. “The short story is my dad died of a heart attack when I was six.”
She offered a customary apology for my loss. I had very few memories of him. Mostly, all I remembered was how hard my mom had worked to keep a roof over our heads. I took a bite and hummed my approval, clapping Jordan on the back as he passed by. He gave me a nod, then a sly grin as he passed Lainey’s chair.God.
“What’s the long version?”
Stalling, I took another bite and followed it up with more coffee. “I saved someone’s life once.”
“I’ve seen you in the OR. I think that number is higher than one.”
Her nose wrinkled when I gave her a flat look over the rim of my cup. “In college, before I was a surgeon, I worked at a gym near my university as a trainer. One of my clients was an older guy. Had a heart attack right on the bench.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, it was a bad day. I started CPR while someone called an ambulance. And he lived. Came back a few months later to thank me. The CPR had saved his life.” I plucked at the folds of my napkin. “We didn’t have much growing up. Single mom, three boys running around. I’d always assumed the gym was the best I could do. I liked helping people. It was good work. But that day…I just spent hours staring down at my hands. I’d saved someone’s life. Everything else felt like a waste of time after that.”
I shoved the rest of the coconut thing unceremoniously down my throat, nearly draining the rest of my cup at the same time.
“That’s a legitimately good origin story, Reese.” Her use of my last name killed me a little, but the feeling went away when I saw the look on her face. Surprise and something close to awe. More than I deserved for a story about administering CPR. Not when I knew what she could do.
“What about you?”
She set her cup back on the tray, choosing a croissant with some sort of sausage inside. “You know my story.Everyoneknows my story. Mom’s a doctor, dad’s a medical engineer. They meet and have a baby. It’s incredible. It’s ingenious. It’s a pioneer in cardiac medicine.”
She wiggled her fingers like she was putting on a show. I propped my elbows on the table as she chewed. I’d never discussed this part of her life with her before. Her background—herorigin story. She was correct. Everyone in our field already knew it.
Her parents were young when they’d paired up on the research project that cemented their names in medical history forever. The Carmichael-Davis stent had been a new category of medical device, including a new, specialized approach to insertion that had nearly doubled the rate of patient success and reduced scarring by 50%. The two had launched the stent, raked in the cash from the patents, and then gone their separate ways. Somewhere in there, Lainey had made her appearance as well.
“Was it hard to grow up in the shadow of Carmichael-Davis?”
She nearly choked on the last bite of croissant, smirking. “No one’s put it like that before. ‘The shadow of Carmichael-Davis.’ Sounds kind of ominous.” Despite her grin, she placed another pastry onto her plate, peeling off a few of the layers, one by one. Santiago swapped my cup for a fresh one while I watched herfidget. “I guess so, yes. But you know my mom.” She pulled more pastry apart until she hit the chocolate filling in the middle.
“I’ve met her before, yes.”
Her eyes rolled, tongue darting out to lick the sugar from her thumb. I nearly missed what she said next. “You and everyone else. She’s the most famous heart surgeon in the world and she hasn’t stepped foot in an OR in over twenty years. I grew up with an anatomically labeled heart poster above my bed. Ending up a surgeon was practically destiny.”
