1.

Ava

What a way to start the new year. Success . I peel off my surgical gloves with a satisfying snap and strip away the layers of protective gear, the exhaustion of an eight-hour triple bypass surgery melting away. The sterile smell of the operating room lingers as I step into the hallway, finally free of the pressure of holding someone’s life in my hands.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Zara: How was your surgery? I won my case today! Drinks at Barney’s to celebrate? ? ?

I sigh, contemplating whether I have the energy for anything else today. But the idea of sharing our successes over drinks is too tempting to resist.

Me: Surgery was successful. Count me in.

Decision made, I begin feeling lighter at the prospect of spending time with my best friend. We met years ago, when we both were fresh out of school with lots of debt, and we both needed a roommate. We no longer live together, but we’re extremely close.

After changing out of my scrubs and freshening up, I cross the street to Barney’s, the gathering spot for Mercy Hospital staff. The dimly lit bar offers solace and camaraderie to those who dedicate their lives to healing others. And they serve strong drinks at a good price. Well, for Vancouver. I spot Zara sitting at the far end of the bar, her smile unmistakable even in the low light.

“Hey, you!” she exclaims, standing to hug me. “You look exhausted, but congrats on the surgery!”

“Thanks,” I say, returning the embrace before settling into the seat next to her. “And congratulations on your win in court! You beat the Crown, which is rare. You’re a rock star! You’ll be listed in Top Lawyers Under Forty.”

“Damn right.” She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Now, let’s toast to our success today!”

Our drinks arrive, a glass of pinot gris for me and a mojito for Zara, and we tap our glasses together. “To a good day,” I say, taking a sip of the crisp, refreshing wine.

“Cheers to that,” Zara agrees. “So, tell me more about your surgery. Was it as intense as it sounds?”

“Definitely,” I reply, feeling my muscles stiffen. “But you know what they say…” I smirk. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“Or at least gives you an excuse to indulge in a bit of wine,” Zara jokes, raising her glass once again.

Zara tells me all about the drama in her office. The two partners dated and worked together for years and then finally got married last year. They’re now in the middle of a difficult divorce, and the staff is in the crossfire.

“Uh-oh,” Zara murmurs, her gaze shifting to a spot across the bar. I follow her line of sight, and my heart clenches as I see Roman Quinlan chatting it up with one of the nurses from the hospital. Their body language screams flirtation, and I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. We dated all through medical school and residency, and then he not only broke my heart, but threw it on the ground and drove over it several times.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…” I mutter under my breath, taking another sip of my wine.

“Look at them,” Zara scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Does he think he’s being subtle?”

The hospital recently asked him to move his practice to one of their office buildings, and he’s in the emergency department rotation, which means our paths are going to cross. It’s been almost five years since we broke up, but it still feels fresh.

“Apparently,” I reply, unable to look away from the scene unfolding. “And she’s eating it up.”

“Can’t say I blame her.” Zara studies the nurse for a moment. “She looks a bit like you, actually. Auburn hair, blue eyes… Maybe he has a type.”

“Great,” I grumble, feeling more irked by the second. “Just what I needed to hear.”

“Hey, don’t let him ruin your night,” Zara advises, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “You’re better off without him anyway.”

“Easy for you to say,” I shoot back, trying and failing to suppress my irritation.

“All right, all right,” she concedes. “But seriously, you’ve come so far since you two were together. You’ve got your dream job, and he’s still nursing his bruised ego.”

“Speaking of nursing…” I trail off, glaring daggers at the woman who’s now laughing at something Roman said. “I can’t believe she’s falling for his charm. Doesn’t she know he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing?”

“Maybe she’ll learn the hard way,” Zara suggests, sipping her mojito.

At this moment, Roman looks over and notices me watching. He grins, as if he’s pleased to see me flustered, and lifts his drink in salute. My blood boils, and I return his smile with a death stare.

“Ugh, what an ass,” I mutter, tearing my gaze away. “I can’t believe I ever thought we could make it work.”

Now I can see we were doomed from the start. We both wanted to be cardiac surgeons and ended up competing for the same fellowship. I got it, and he’s now a pediatrician.

“A woman will live for years because of what you did for her today,” Zara reminds me. “We don’t need to waste any more time or energy on him.”

“Agreed,” I say, downing the rest of my wine in one gulp.

“All right, I think it’s time for me to head out,” Zara announces, checking her watch. “I’ve got an early deposition tomorrow.”

“Thanks for this,” I say, giving her a tight hug as we stand and head for the door. “It was just what I needed.”

“Anytime,” she responds, squeezing me back. “Have a good night, okay?”

Outside, we head our separate ways. The lingering warmth from my drink makes the chilly night air a little less biting. My mind drifts to Roman once again as I wait for a rideshare home, the anger I felt earlier now replaced with a dull ache and thoughts of what could have been.