Page 39 of The Choices I've Made
“How does a cardiothoracic surgeon know how to operate a simple X-ray machine?” she asked as I assisted her off the table. “Isn’t that below your pay grade?”
I chuckled, glad to see she was back in fight mode. We’d always had the best banter between us.
“You forget that, before I was the amazing man I am today, I was nothing but a little boy living in the shadow of his father.”
“So, he taught you?”
We took our time in walking down the hall, and I savored every moment of contact with her.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t.
“No.” I laughed. “I used to sneak in here and play around with the equipment.”
“With the X-ray machine? God, you could be radioactive by now!”
“I’m not, I assure you, but it wasn’t the smartest thing, I’ll admit.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of unsmart things today,” she chided.
“That happens a lot when I’m around you.”
“Just trying to keep that ego of yours in check.”
I helped her into a chair, propping her foot on another. The small room was littered with magazines and smelled like a mixture of bleach and mothballs.
“Well, rest assured, you’re doing a great job. Let me go grab those films. Be right back.”
The happy smile I had plastered on my face continued as I went through the motions of checking each film for any abnormalities.
It wasn’t until I saw her name on the computer screen that it wavered.
Jesus, what was I doing?
Bantering with my ex? The woman who was now engaged to my former best friend?
I knew what I was doing—flirting with danger.
And, if I continued, nothing good would come from my time here. Because there was one thing I was totally certain of.
I was not over Molly McIntyre. Not even a little.
“Good news,” I announced as I walked back into the waiting room, finding Molly exact where I’d left her.
She’d grabbed a magazine, probably decades old and was perusing it with little interest.
“No broken bones, as I expected, but I do think you have a pretty good sprain on your hands. You need to stay off it for at least today and keep it iced.”
“No,” she said, making my eyebrows rise.
“No?” I asked. “To which part?”
“I’ve said this before, but I don’t have time to sit around. I have things to do.”
I threw one foot over the other, leaning against the doorframe as I took her in. “Okay, so how do you plan on accomplishing these tasks exactly? Are you going to hop around town? Maybe rent one of those ridiculous scooters the tourists are using these days? Or are you planning on just wiggling your nose like Samantha onBewitched?”
“You’re an ass.”
“Well, you’re being unreasonable. And I’m serious, Molly. No work today. You’ll just end up making it worse, and then you really will have a problem on your hands.”
