Hotshot Doc
Page 58

 R.S. Grey

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“The phones have been ringing off the hook,” Patricia says, leaning her head past the door and holding out a thick stack of messages for me. “I think everyone on Earth is trying to get in contact with you, but I’ve told most of them you’re too busy to talk. Dr. Lopez is holding on line one though. He didn’t buy my excuse.”
I drag my feet walking to my phone. As the closest thing to a father figure Bailey has, Dr. Lopez isn’t exactly someone I want to speak with at the moment, but I can’t just ignore him. He’s so polite, he’d probably wait on the line all afternoon.
I stay standing as I connect to line one, greeting him with a knot of apprehension in my stomach.
“Dr. Russell!” he says, his tone full of excitement. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!”
I grow uncomfortably hot.
“Hey Dr. Lopez, good to hear from you. How’s retirement treating you?”
“Oh, it’s fine. A little boring, but Laurie says I’m still adjusting to a slower pace. Truth be told, I’ve picked up about ten hobbies—grilling, gardening, woodworking—none of which I actually like yet.”
I muster up a shallow chuckle.
“Listen,” he continues. “I heard about the grant. What an accomplishment. You must be beside yourself.”
Beside myself? Try depressed as hell.
“It’s great.”
Dr. Lopez hums skeptically. Maybe I should feign a little more enthusiasm. “I’ve been getting calls about it all morning. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thank you for calling. It means a lot.”
“While I have you here, I was also going to ask, how’s Bailey doing?” There it is, the question that makes my heart drop. I must hesitate for a moment too long because he laughs. “Don’t tell me you’ve already run her off? It’s only been a few months.”
“No.” I scramble quickly. “I haven’t. She still works for me.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “Good. I’m glad to hear it. I hope you’ll try to find a position for her at the hospital before you leave for Costa Rica. Last I heard, the board is looking to bring on another surgeon now that you’re leaving, but if that isn’t a good fit for Bailey, tell her to give me a call. I can check around with a few of my old colleagues. I worry about her.” He sighs. “You aren’t stressing her out too much, are you?”
Stressing her out? Well, I just proposed she move to another country with me—how’s that for stress?
“No. I’m going easy on her,” I lie.
“Somehow I doubt that.” He chuckles. “Well, all right, I can tell you don’t really want to be talking right now. You’re probably as busy as ever so I won’t keep you, but please pass on that message to Bailey and let her know Laurie and I are thinking about her. And congratulations, again. The work you’re going to do in Costa Rica will impact a lot of lives. You should be proud.”
His words magnify my guilt tenfold.
After we hang up, I sit at my desk, staring out the window, wondering how I could have possibly screwed up so badly. Just this morning, I woke up in bed with Bailey. Now, I’d be lucky if she even took my phone call. When Patricia speaks to me through the intercom and reminds me I’m running a few minutes late for a consult, I sigh and push to stand so I can head toward the conference room.
I should have told Dr. Lopez the truth about my situation with Bailey and asked for his advice. He knows her well. Maybe he could have told me how to proceed. Then the thought makes me smile. Yeah right. More than likely he would have chewed my ass out for hurting her feelings in the first place.
Admittedly, I’m not good at relationships. I’ve perfected every spinal procedure in the book, but when it comes to matters of the heart, I’m a complete idiot. Good thing I didn’t go into cardio.
I push through the rest of my day, try to stay focused, and do a piss-poor job of it. After I mix up two patient files and nearly perform a pre-op exam on the wrong person, I decide to ask Patricia to postpone everything else on my schedule and knock off early. It might be the first time I’ve ever taken a personal day.
Patricia is so confused by the request, she asks me if I need to be admitted to the hospital. “Are you dying?”
I’m at a complete loss for what to do with myself when I get home. For the last few weeks, I’ve been at Bailey’s house in my free time. My cold, quiet home matches my mood a little too well. I turn on the TV in the living room just for some background noise. I check my phone to see if she’s called, and when she hasn’t, I check my email. It’s jam-packed with messages of congratulations. I keep scrolling, come to an email from Victoria, and opt to ignore it. I have enough on my plate at the moment. Whatever she wants to talk to me about can wait. By the way, I’m not just having one baby. It’s twins!
I think about reaching out to Bailey, but I don’t think it’d be a good idea.
She asked for space earlier. She needs time to process everything I threw at her, and maybe that isn’t such a bad idea. I’ll respect her wishes, but I’ll use my time wisely.
I have a lot to do.
This grant is important to me because in the past, my work abroad has been limited to week-long medical mission trips. I’d assemble a volunteer team and we’d travel to the National Children’s Hospital in San Jose, Costa Rica. There, we’d have to race through a waiting list filled with hundreds of children in need of surgery. Every one of them was as deserving as the last, but with limited funds and time, we were only ever able to operate on a handful of them.
It wasn’t enough.
I want to do more, and now, with this grant, I can.
I’m not moving to Costa Rica forever. My goal is to be there for a year or two. I’ll use the aid to establish a clinic and train surgeons and staff at the hospital there.
I can’t do it on my own, though. I need a team around me. The nonprofit I’m partnering with will send a few people, and the hospital will have host surgeons and residents, but I’d like to have my own surgical crew as well, people who already know my methods, people I can trust.
People like Bailey.
With that thought, I grab a notepad, a pencil, and a cup of coffee, and I get to work in my home office. I don’t plan on leaving this spot for the rest of the evening. I need to make a proposal so damn convincing, Bailey can’t possibly turn it down. I need to explain everything clearly so there won’t be any more surprises.
I research everything from education options for Josie to rental homes around the hospital. I call my contacts at the nonprofit and they pass along helpful information.
I’m on a call with a friend of a friend who runs the pediatric department down at National Children’s Hospital, getting advice about schools, when I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s already half past eight. I take my phone with me into the kitchen and continue talking as I make a peanut butter sandwich. After I scarf it down, I throw a handful of spinach into my mouth—for health—and then get right back to the grind.
I don’t stress over the fact that Bailey hasn’t reached out.
I don’t worry that she might have already made up her mind not to come.
I don’t consider that she might not forgive me for keeping this from her for so long.
Instead, I keep going. Keep Googling. Keep typing. Keep changing the fucking font on this Word document to something friendly and non-threatening. I’m looking for something that says, This proposal is a good idea. Listen to your boyfriend.
Move to Costa Rica.
Chapter 32
BAILEY
I’m a wreck. I keep wishing I could snap my fingers and go back to last week. I want to pick up the phone and beg Matt to come over so we can patch things up, but I don’t have my head on straight yet. Having him come over, dragging him into my room and onto my bed would only confuse me more.
Although would it? Maybe a good romp in the hay would really clear up this whole debate for me. I’d better call him right this second—
No. Bad Bailey!
Change is inevitable. In a few months, Matt’s going to move to Costa Rica and I have two options: go with him or stay here. The idea of going with him is still completely out of the question. Chances are, he wasn’t even being that serious when he suggested it. He was probably trying to spare my feelings. Even if he was serious and he does want me to come, how would that even be possible? I can’t just upend my life on a whim. Pack your bags, Jos, we’re going abroad!