Page 30 of Saving His Heart
Preston stops, takes my hand, and gives it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Ems. Are you okay?”
Pulling my hand away, I shoo him off. “I’m fine, Preston. I’m a doctor, remember? Or at least I was. I wouldn’t be a very good one if I couldn’t handle death.”
“You’re an excellent doctor, and you will practice again, I promise.”
I hate when he promises that. He has said it so many times since I met him, but the longer this goes on, the less confident I feel. Even the all-powerful Preston Westbrook can’t do anything about this mess.
* * *
“Emory,Preston! It’s so good to see you both,” Dr. Terry exclaims, entering the exam room.
Seeing him in his lab coat with a stethoscope hanging from his neck gives me a pitifully sad longing. I worked so hard for the right to wear those with Dr. Camden stitched into the side pocket, and it was all taken away in the blink of an eye. I try to inconspicuously blow air to my eyelashes to keep the tears at bay, but Preston notices.Of course he freaking notices. He has been overly observant lately.
Placing his left hand on my knee, he gives me a gentle squeeze while simultaneously removing a handkerchief from his pocket and discreetly handing it to me.
What the fuck? Who even carries these things anymore?
“I’m happy to see you two are getting along so well,” Dr. Terry says gently, nodding at Preston’s hand on my knee.
He quickly removes it and clears his throat. “Actually, Dr. Terry, I have something I’d like to explain,” Preston says, sounding more like a prepubescent boy than the alpha CEO.
“Preston, I’ve said this before, and I’ll repeat it. You are your father’s son. I knew him for over half my life, and I’ve known you since you were born. I’m just surprised it has taken you this long. I don’t need details, but I will put poor Emory out of her misery.”
At the mention of my name, I finally lift my eyes that had been planted firmly in my lap for the last ten minutes.
“I can only imagine what is running through your head right now, but I assure you, we can put it to rest. I’d like to remind you that at this time, you are not,” he says with a wink, “Preston’s doctor. Any relationship you form is completely acceptable.”
“No, but it’s not real. W-We’re just pretending, Dr. T-Terry,” I stammer.
“We’re only in a fake relationship, Dr. Terry. I just needed my family to back off for a bit. I’m disappointed you would think so little of me. I know I’m dying, sir, and I would never play with her emotions or ask anyone to stand by me in an actual relationship just to watch the inevitable happen.”
I hate the emotion I hear in Preston’s voice. It’s a sadness most people will never truly experience.
“Preston, everyone deserves happiness for however long they are on this earth. I’m going to encourage you to find it while you can with whoever that is.” He turns his attention to me. “Emory, you know I have always held you in high regard. Marie and I are sick to death over what is happening with your medical career, but don’t you let that stop you from living either. Understand me? Now, Marie? She is sweet as pie, but if she thinks for a second you’re closing yourself off from life again, she will have us on a plane to North Carolina faster than you can say hush puppies.”
I’m so confused.“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I need you to go to HR and speak with Candace. The legal team should also be there shortly. Your appeal is finally being presented to the medical board on January 9th. That only gives us a few months to prepare our case—”
“Wait a minute,” Preston interrupts. “I told you my legal and investigative team would handle this.”
I spin in my seat at Preston’s words. “You what?”
“Son, the first rule of a relationship, real or fake as you call it, is to never leave out the details. Emory, I suggest you take Preston’s help. Preston, your team will have to work with hospital representatives. Emory is welcome to her own council, but it is hospital policy to have our own. Now, Emory, you go down and meet with them while Preston and I start the tests. No results will come in before you return, I’m sure.”
Standing, I give Preston’s shoulder and unconscious squeeze and a nod of my head to a smiling Dr. Terry.Why does everything in my life come with a giant side of ‘what the fuck’ these days?
Chapter 11
Preston
I’m sprawled out on the exam table in my paper gown, playing a rather intense Game Of Words on my phone with Dexter’s son, Tate. The kid might be a genius because he is kicking my ass, and he hasn’t hit double digits yet.
Emory and Dr. Terry are hovered over his desk, discussing my latest round of tests. Normally, I get lost in her voice as she works through each problem, throwing out every possible solution known to man. A few of her suggestions have even taken Dr. Terry by surprise. It’s those moments that I love the fatherly look of admiration he has for her. It’s well deserved.
Today, though? I’m trying to figure out if Tate has found the cheater app for this game or if he really is this goddamn smart. But when Emory’s voice changes, so does my focus.
“But he has already been on the transplant list for two years. Surely he must have moved up by now?”
