Page 76 of Hearts on the Table
That, too, didn’t seem like lip service. There was an energy about the place. A pleasant hum compared to the low-level buzz I was used to at Cedar. But even a nice hum wouldn’t draw me away from my hospital, and Blake knew it.
After I breezed through a few softball interview questions in his office, he considered me from his patched leather chair. “Listen, I’m sure this is just a revenge interview or something, and it’s going to break my heart when you say no, but I’d like you to meet a few more folks here. I can put together an offer in the meantime and just see what you think.”
“That’s nice, really, but—”
“I know, I know. You’re killing it over at Cedar and this place probably looks dinky as hell in comparison. But I like what you and Cooper are doing over there. Everyone does. We could use a mind like yours on the team.”
“If you really want to draw something up, I’ll look. But Cedar’s been the goal since med school.” As soon as the words popped out of my mouth, I wasn’t sure that was true anymore.I’d transferred my residency there simply because I knew it had been Nate’s dream, and I was petty enough to grab it after what he’d done to me.
It didn’t hurt that it was one of the top cardiac programs in the nation. Somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself that if I couldn’t have the life I wanted in Texas, at least I could have Cedar. But was that really true?
I walked back through Mercy’s halls, taking in the cheerful artwork and smiling faces. The salary range Blake had just quoted rang in my ears.
“And that’s really just a starting point,” he’d assured me, no doubt mistaking the shock on my face for disappointment. “I’m sure I can talk the board up. We’re throwing money at good surgeons these days. Invest in the people and the program will follow.”
“People first,” I’d muttered, still too shocked to respond to the outlandish figure.
I hadn’t even asked about the salary at Cedar. I’d just assumed it would be better than what I was being paid now. Maybe that was my problem: I’d justassumedeverything would get better once I moved through the ranks. Once I moved to Chicago or landed the fellowship or, or, or.
How much of my life had I been living on autopilot? Were there any parts of me that weren’t shaped by what two stupid people had done together a few years ago? Had I just pointed myself in this direction, closed my eyes, and hoped for the best?
For the past few days, the thought I had at the gym has been coming back to me, and now it fluttered in my mind again.I don’t have to be defined by their actions.
There was at least one thing in my life that hadn’t been a reaction to the McDaniels. His face popped into my head and I changed lanes, diving headlights-first into brutal Friday eveningtraffic. I’d planned on staying at my place tonight, which Sam hadn’t pressed.
I didn’t relish the idea of leaving the porch and leather couch andhimbehind in favor of my somewhat lifeless apartment, but we’d spent every night together for a week. I assumed he needed a break.
The interview with Blake hadn’t gone as planned, though. Now, a whole different lane of life opened up for me, an exit I never realized was an option before. It felt scary, shaking up the clear-cut path I’d laid out for myself.
In the wake of those smiling faces and the amazing offer, I didn’t know what it meant for me, or Cedar. But at least I knew where I wanted to go right this second. Sam’s condo and my happy-place-porch were calling my name.
???
“When you said you were going to Conner’s for dinner, I thought you meant something normal,” I accused, my eyes darting around the kitchen.
Sam had been surprised, but happy, to see me. He’d whisked me across the courtyard to Conner and Jas’s place to eat.
“This is normal.”
This was not normal. Granted, I’d never been inside their home before, but I was very sure that the colorful streamers and balloons hanging from the light fixtures weren’t every day decor.
“Sam? Why is your family having dinner here tonight?” He’d mentioned family dinner a few minutes ago, but I’d been too distracted sucking his face to pay too much attention.
Between the good but disorienting interview at Mercy and the unnerving realization that Sam was the first thing I’d really chosen for myself in years, I’d needed a little TLC. He’d beenhappy to oblige, but had drawn the line at hiking my skirt up like I’d asked.
“Later,” he’d said, and I was too dazzled by his kisses to ask any further questions. I should have asked some freaking questions.
Now, I was standing in Conner and Jas’s empty kitchen, a cacophony of voices and sounds filtering from the dining room. A twist of red paper streamers flapped lazily where someone had taped it across the mantel.
“Conner’s birthday,” Sam responded, digging around in a drawer for a pen. He scrawled something on the bottle he was holding, chucking the Sharpie back just as Jas rounded the corner.
“Hey, sketchballs. Party’s in the dining room, stop creepin’. Sam and Lainey are here!” she shouted. Cheers drifted from the open doors to the other room. My heels dragged on the floor when Sam pushed me towards the sound.
“Samuel,” I’d never used his full name before, but the night I unknowingly crashed a family party seemed like as good a time as any to start. “I cannot invite myself to Conner’s birthday,” I hissed as he propelled me forward.
“You didn’t invite yourself. I invited you.”
“I don’tdobirthdays. I don’t even know Conner that well.” Out of all the Reeses, he was the most foreign to me. We’d had a few interactions here and there, like over tacos and at the gym. Nothing that was I’m-coming-to-your-birthday-dinner-worthy.
