Page 63 of Cluelessly Yours

When we end the call a few moments later, I may as well be walking on cloud fucking nine. I barely register the fact that Chase texted back to confirm our doggy playdate for Friday evening, and my sandwich is no longer the center of my world.

I’m officially in the game with Sammy Baker.

Sunday can’t come soon enough.

Tuesday, May 17th

“That went better than expected,” Dr. Weller announces, stepping up to the sink beside mine as I finish scrubbing my hands.

“I’m just happy I managed to keep her blood pressure stable for that last hour.”

Valve replacements are a difficult surgery as it is, but performing them on a ten-year-old girl who should have a whole life ahead of her is in an entirely different bracket.

I’m used to surgery on kids, but the difficult cases? They never get easier.

“You and me both,” he remarks. “It’s always a blessing when I’ve got you at the head of my table.”

“Aw, come on, Milton. If you keep saying sweet things like that to me, I might have to buy you lunch.”

“Smartass.” He chuckles, and I give him a sturdy pat on the back before I head through the OR exit doors.

My stomach grumbles as I make my way down the hall, and one quick glance to my watch explains why. It’s nearing noon, and I’ve beenup and at ’emsince five this morning. Thankfully, this was my last surgery of the day, and all that’s left are patient rounds.

“Dr. Philips, do you mind signing off on some orders for me?” Darla, one ofmy favorite recovery nurses, asks when I make a pit stop at the nurses station. “The patient in Room Eight needs an extra dose of Zofran to curb his nausea. And the patient in Room Three could use a little fluid boost before I send her to the ICU.”

“You got it.” I head over to one of the empty computers to make good on her requests.

It only takes a few minutes to put her orders in, and before I know it, I’m three charts deep into the seven I have to review for rounds. I’m pulling up the fourth when my phone vibrates in my pocket, and since modern technology has allowed my phone to double as my hospital pager, I don’t waste any time before checking it.

My brow furrows over two missed text messages and a voice mail from an unknown number. Generally speaking, these days, if someone leaves me a voice mail, it’s because they actually need to talk to me.

Phone to my ear, I listen intently. “Hi. Noah. It’s Ashley. It’s…uh…been a while. I, well, I need to see you. Can you call me back? This is my new number, by the way.”

I shake my head and pull the phone away from my ear, pushing delete on the message without a second thought. No offense to Ashley, but I have no reason to call her back or meet up with her again. It’s been months since I last saw her, and frankly, there’s only one woman I want to see. Her name isn’t Ashley.

Quickly, I scroll over to my text inbox. The first message is from Mary—I just realized I missed your FaceTime call this morning. Kara was in really good spirits, and I took her to that little pancake place she loves, and now we’re at Bryant Park.

I type back quickly, a small smile lifting the corner of my lips.

Me: I’m glad she’s having a good day. Give her a big hug for me, and I’ll check in with you this evening.

The second is a page from the hospital, alerting me to an additional med order I need to fill before logging out. I set the phone down and click around from our chart management system to the med portal, and then back into the charts. My phone vibrates loudly on the surface of the desk just as I’mgetting to the meat and potatoes of this patient’s latest bloodwork, and I grumble to myself.

Jeez. Maybe I’ll get through these charts today if—

Annoyance evaporates when I see the caller on the screen, and a big-ass smile takes over my face.Talk about a pleasant fucking surprise.

“Hey, Sammy,” I greet eagerly.

“Hey there,” she says, her affection tentative but present. “So…I… Are you at work?” I have a feeling this phone call is in some way related to her making an effort, and I truly want to do my best to nurture it.

“I am. What’s going on?”

“Are you busy?”

“I’m not too busy to talk to Sammy Baker,” I say through a smile. “I’m just finishing up going over some charts and about to go to lunch.” A flurry of sudden concern makes my brows furrow. “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is good,” she answers in a rush. “I’m just leaving my dentist appointment, and it’s in that medical building connected to St. Luke’s… and I have a few hours before I have to get the boys from school and go to work, and I just thought I’d call you and see if you…I don’t know…wanted to get lunch or something?” she asks. But then she quickly adds, “No pressure, though, okay? Like, seriously. No big deal if you can’t. I totally understand.”

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