Page 17 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
Grant nodded at her, as if he had just conveyed some sort of conspiracy theory, then leaned back against the couch, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“And no one has tried to find a way around this?”
“Well”—Grant used his hands to heighten his shrug—“not since I’ve been here. It’s kind of a lot for a new fellow to take on, and there isalready such high burnout among physicians. Starting something like that is a big ask, even if you could get the support or funding.”
“Right. So you don’t know of anyone who has actually tried, then?” Sam asked, attempting to soften her words. She didn’t want to make it sound like Grant or any of her other colleagues hadn’t been doing their jobs. Still, it nagged at her. How did an entire hospital full of people just decide to ignore an obvious problem?
“I don’t think I do,” Grant said, glancing back down at the journal article he was reading, clearly signaling that Sam’s line of questioning should wrap up before he needed to get to wherever it was that senior fellows went next.
Hint taken. Reaching for her coffee cup, Sam sighed. “Okay then, I guess it is up to me to try. One more question, then I’ll leave you alone. Who is the best person for me to approach about getting a program off the ground?”
“Try to start a program?” Grant’s head tilted in surprise, as if Sam had just told him that she wanted to parachute off the roof.
“Yup. Someone has to push the old guard. It’s clear the program is needed. Why not me?”
“Being a research fellow is hard. You’re working like seventy hours a week,” Grant said. The incredulity on his face was almost funny. “I don’t want to tell you how to live, but I might suggest scaling back your ambition. It takes most researchers a decade to get a single initiative off the ground. Doing it in your first year of fellowship is a stretch.”
“I can’t just let my patients get half the care they deserve,” Sam said, ignoring the fact that Grant’s eyebrows were dangerously close to his hairline. Clearly, he hadn’t expected pushback from her. “I assume I should start with Dr.Franklin?”
“Well, yes. He would be the one to start with.” Grant tilted his head and stared at her as if she were a journal article that he didn’t totallyunderstand. “But like I said, why not give yourself more than a few years in the job before you try to get community programming off the ground? The other research fellows are just doing small studies for their projects. Blood analysis, patient-attitude surveys, and that kind of stuff. This is really swinging for the fences.”
Her mother had been trying to control her for years. Waiting for Sam to fail so she could pick at her. But this time she wasn’t going to fail. Nope. She’d give up breathing long before she went back to Ohio as a failure. She might be biting off more than most people could chew, but she could do it. Grant would have to do better than a stern talking-to if he wanted her to be less ambitious.
Sam put her free hand on her hip and looked him right in the eye. “And like I said, the patient I just saw deserves support. It’s not like I can ask her to let her baby bake for the next three years because it is convenient for my schedule.”
Grant’s laugh filled the room, lighting up all four graying corners with his tenor. “I appreciate the sense of urgency. And if anyone could do it, I’m sure you could.”
“Can and will.” Sam felt her jaw set. He had a warm, rich laugh. A laugh she probably would have enjoyed under other circumstances. She liked it a lot less when he was trying to talk her out of something.
“Right.” Grant nodded, the humor still playing around his eyes as he looked her over like her dream was too adorable for him to crush. A man who looked like that probably hadn’t failed at anything in his life. Perfect people never did. She hated that look almost as much as she hated people doubting her. “Well, they say advice is worth what you pay for it. And mine’s free, so do what you want. But if I were you, I’d focus on securing funding for a simple research question for your fellowship.”
“Duly noted. Where is Dr.Franklin’s office?”
“Up on the fifth floor, near the men’s room,” Grant sighed, the tired expression returning to his face as he watched her walk her untouched coffee over to the trash can.
“Wonderful. I’ll have a chat with him,” Sam said, her words a little too perky to be believable.
“Hey, Sam.” Grant’s words floated over her shoulder, stopping her as she pushed on the door.
Turning slowly to face him again, Sam schooled her features into a neutral expression as best she could. “Yes?”
“Dr.Franklin can be sticky, but he’ll usually meet you halfway. I hope it works out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sam felt a half smile creep across her face as he extended her an olive branch. “Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime.” Grant flashed a hundred-watt smile, making eye contact. It should have been a simple glance, a gesture that was easy for Sam to return. Then their eyes met, and something in the air changed along with Grant’s expression. It was as if electricity ran hot and buzzing between them, and Sam felt like she was one half of a magnet helpless against the pull of his other half. Sam felt the heat returning to her cheeks. Grant licked his lips, and she bit down on hers to keep from gasping.
It hit her that she was dangerously close to crossing over into meaningful-eye-contact territory. If she didn’t move soon, either she was going to melt with unexpected sexual tension or things would get hot enough in the little lounge that the papers in front of Grant ignited. She could not dissolve into a quivering mass in front of this man, first because that would be extremely unsanitary in a hospital and second because not ten seconds ago he’d been actively trying to dissuade her from pursuing her research idea. Clearing her throat, Sam blinked and looked down at the floor, causing Grant to clear his throat and look at his papers, effectively halting the pull between them.
“Gonna get back to work,” Grant said, gesturing vaguely over the papers at the same time Sam spoke.
“Okay, bye.”
Nodding once, Sam turned and walked through the door without a word. Safely in the hallway, she exhaled. She was lucky that smile came attached to someone so difficult, or she would have much bigger problems to solve than starting a community program.
Chapter Five
Sam dropped the mail on the kitchen counter for her roommates and opened the fridge, feeling exhaustion creep into her every movement. She had gone looking for Dr.Franklin right after talking to Grant. And then she went looking for him again after seeing a few more patients, and again after filing some paperwork. She even went looking after their outpatient-report meeting. By about the fifth pass through, the head of general surgery finally took pity on her and let her know that Dr.Franklin was most likely gone for the day. Not to be deterred—or let Grant sayI told you so—Sam broke down and sent Dr.Franklin an email asking when he’d be around. So far, she hadn’t heard anything, but she had only been relentlessly checking her email for two hours, so there was still time.
