Page 32 of Embrace
She swooped up the papers and file folders off the counter. “A lot. Follow me.”
* * *
We wentinto one of the small instruction rooms off the central care station. Her expression was unreadable, but she watched me closely as I sat across from her at the table.
“How involved with an attending are you?” she finally asked.
Yes, it was slight hostility in her eyes. I wanted to make some smart-ass comment, asking her how involved we looked. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let myself be written up for falling in love with Jake Sparrow, not then or ever.
“Deb, I’m less than a month away from being a fellow. So just let it go.”
She stabbed the tabletop. “But you’re still a resident now, and I’m still your supervisor.”
“So what are you asking? You want me to lay off of—”Shit, what do I call him?The previous night, before I’d gotten out of the limo, he said everyone should get used to calling him Asher. But it was his duty to inform our colleagues first, not mine.
Deb watched me curiously. “Dr. Sparrow,” she said, finishing for me. “Are you okay, Penina? It’s been a while since you’ve been on shift, and you look very tired.”
I sat up straight, attempting to appear as though I had more energy. Deb’s perception was spot-on. I was tired, more emotionally than physically. “I’m fine.”
“Well,” she said with a sigh, “you and Dr. Sparrow are adults. I wish you would’ve said something. I didn’t enjoy finding out that way.”
I nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” She opened a folder. “But I asked you here for a different reason. You have a fellowship offer from this hospital and—”
Claudette, one of the triage nurses, pushed the door open wide and announced, “Deb, we have reporters all over the place.”
* * *
It had gottenout and spread like wildfire. All media outlets, big and small, print and internet, reported Asher Christmas was a neurosurgeon at Unity Medical Center in New Orleans, Louisiana.
I’d never known how vastly popular the Christmases were. As I stood at the EMR machine, searching for my assigned patients, everyone around me talked about Asher, their voices spiked with excitement. It was as if people had just found out Prince William had gone missing for six years and turned up in New Orleans.
“When did you learn who he was, Penina?” Angela asked during handoffs.
I stopped searching the database and looked at all the curious faces watching me. I shrugged. “A few days ago.”
“Then the last time we saw each other, you didn’t know?”
My cold glare didn’t seem to faze her. She still appeared insistent that I answer.
“No,” I muttered, not because I didn’t want to upset her but because it was the truth. I sighed sharply. “And where are my handoffs?”
“You’re off rotation,” Angela said.
With one hand on my hip and the other massaging my right temple, I closed my eyes, needing a moment to process that. How could a surgeon, especially one of my caliber, be off rotation? Was Deb punishing me for last night?
“What?” I finally asked.
Angela raised her eyebrows as she shrugged. That was her way of saying, “Tough luck, and that’s what you get for fucking Asher Christmas.”
I stomped away from the EMR console, on my way to find Deb and have it out with her. I was plodding down the corridor where all the patient care consult rooms were when a large hand covered my mouth and an even stronger arm wrapped around my waist, and someone carried me off.
At first, I was shocked, then I became terrified as I realized I couldn’t yell for help, bite, or elbow the guy. And I only thought to use my heel to kick him in the shin when he had already pulled me into one of the lightless exam rooms.
“Dr. Ross,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. “Don’t scream. It’s me.”
“Who?” I asked, although I couldn’t do more than hum the word.
