Chapter 28

Lainey

Blake didn’t waste any time. That Friday, after finishing the rest (and hopefully the last) of my media interviews and catching up on my patient notes from Sam’s couch, I wandered the halls of Mercy while he gave me the song and dance.

I’d accepted his offer of an interview somewhat on a lark. My blood had been boiling, pushed too far for too long by Cedar’s board. Taking an interview with a failing hospital seemed like the ultimate smack in the face for such a prestigious institution. What did it matter, I’d thought, when I wasn’t going to end up at Mercy, anyway? If taking another interview made me feel in control of an uncontrollable situation, so be it. The trouble was, this failing hospital didn’t seem to be failing so much.

The campus was nothing as flashy as Cedar’s new digs. The yellowish linoleum floors had cracks here and there, and the gray walls had a few scuffs, but the halls felt homey and well-kept. Everywhere we went, people smiled. Patients, doctors, everyone. It wasn’t that we were constantly scowling at Cedar, but all these friendly faces made me realize the Cedar staff ran around pretty harried and self-important most of the time. Blake gave me a rueful grin when I mentioned the contrast.

“The issues with the board were a big wake up call for everyone here. Good opportunity to reconsider our values. All our directors teamed up to develop a new value and mission statement. Our nursing leaders are spearheading our ‘People First’ campaign. The patients like it. It’s a refreshing way to practice.”

I’d seen signs about “people first” all over the hospital. I’m pretty sure there was even a billboard outside, promising to put patient and provider well-being over profits. Cedar did stuff like that all the time, but it always seemed like lip-service. This actually seemed, dare I say, legit.

The cardiac unit left a lot to be desired. The fallout of the board’s corruption had hit them the hardest, and it showed, but I noticed that while there were abandoned beds here and there, medical staff were actively attending to the patients in occupied ones. I marveled at a young surgeon who seemed to be personally overseeing post-op procedures. At Cedar, we usually left that for the residents or the NPs.

“Dr. Hadley, meet Dr. Carmichael. Hadley’s my right hand. This place would crumble without him.”

“THE Dr. Carmichael?” The surgeon shook my hand after emerging from the patient’s room. His dark fingers enveloped mine.

“Oh, please. THE Dr. Carmichael is my mother. Just Doctor is fine.”

He laughed, shaking my hand slightly longer than was necessary. “I thought he was joking when he said he landed an interview with you. I’ve been following your research on hemodynamic optimization for LVADs for a while. Practically binged the article you wrote for Circulation last year with your preliminary findings.”

“Hadley is scrubbing in with Cooper for the LVAD next week. Dr. Carmichael was supposed to assist on that case at Cedar.”

“You’re familiar with the patient?” Hadley practically waggled in his sneakers. “Do you mind me asking what your research suggests for longer-term synchronization with the device? She’s an active woman. We want this to go as smoothly as possible for as long as it can.”

He asked me smart questions, not that I expected any different. He was a heart surgeon, after all, just like me. Or perhaps I had expected something different. Maybe I’d drunk the Cedar Kool-Aid and imagined myself as superior.

It felt a bit odd to explore another program’s inner workings after being at Cedar for so long. Weird and surprising yet equally shocking that I didn’t totally hate what I saw. The ORs were outdated, but Blake assured me the team was working on several fundraisers to help support renovations over the next few years.

“It’ll be helpful to get some high-profile cases for that. I mentioned it at the bar last week, but we’re pushing to bring more innovation in-house. Better doctors, more curiosity, and bigger surgeries.”

That, too, didn’t seem like lip service. There was an energy about the place. A pleasant hum compared to the low-level buzz I was used to at Cedar. But even a nice hum wouldn’t draw me away from my hospital, and Blake knew it.

After I breezed through a few softball interview questions in his office, he considered me from his patched leather chair. “Listen, I’m sure this is just a revenge interview or something, and it’s going to break my heart when you say no, but I’d like you to meet a few more folks here. I can put together an offer in the meantime and just see what you think.”

“That’s nice, really, but—”

“I know, I know. You’re killing it over at Cedar and this place probably looks dinky as hell in comparison. But I like what you and Cooper are doing over there. Everyone does. We could use a mind like yours on the team.”

“If you really want to draw something up, I’ll look. But Cedar’s been the goal since med school.” As soon as the words popped out of my mouth, I wasn’t sure that was true anymore. I’d transferred my residency there simply because I knew it had been Nate’s dream, and I was petty enough to grab it after what he’d done to me.

It didn’t hurt that it was one of the top cardiac programs in the nation. Somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself that if I couldn’t have the life I wanted in Texas, at least I could have Cedar. But was that really true?

I walked back through Mercy’s halls, taking in the cheerful artwork and smiling faces. The salary range Blake had just quoted rang in my ears.

“And that’s really just a starting point,” he’d assured me, no doubt mistaking the shock on my face for disappointment. “I’m sure I can talk the board up. We’re throwing money at good surgeons these days. Invest in the people and the program will follow.”

“People first,” I’d muttered, still too shocked to respond to the outlandish figure.

I hadn’t even asked about the salary at Cedar. I’d just assumed it would be better than what I was being paid now. Maybe that was my problem: I’d just assumed everything would get better once I moved through the ranks. Once I moved to Chicago or landed the fellowship or, or, or.

How much of my life had I been living on autopilot? Were there any parts of me that weren’t shaped by what two stupid people had done together a few years ago? Had I just pointed myself in this direction, closed my eyes, and hoped for the best?

For the past few days, the thought I had at the gym has been coming back to me, and now it fluttered in my mind again. I don’t have to be defined by their actions .

There was at least one thing in my life that hadn’t been a reaction to the McDaniels. His face popped into my head and I changed lanes, diving headlights-first into brutal Friday evening traffic. I’d planned on staying at my place tonight, which Sam hadn’t pressed.

I didn’t relish the idea of leaving the porch and leather couch and him behind in favor of my somewhat lifeless apartment, but we’d spent every night together for a week. I assumed he needed a break.

The interview with Blake hadn’t gone as planned, though. Now, a whole different lane of life opened up for me, an exit I never realized was an option before. It felt scary, shaking up the clear-cut path I’d laid out for myself.

In the wake of those smiling faces and the amazing offer, I didn’t know what it meant for me, or Cedar. But at least I knew where I wanted to go right this second. Sam’s condo and my happy-place-porch were calling my name.

◆◆◆

“When you said you were going to Conner’s for dinner, I thought you meant something normal,” I accused, my eyes darting around the kitchen.

Sam had been surprised, but happy, to see me. He’d whisked me across the courtyard to Conner and Jas’s place to eat.

“This is normal.”

This was not normal. Granted, I’d never been inside their home before, but I was very sure that the colorful streamers and balloons hanging from the light fixtures weren’t every day decor.

“Sam? Why is your family having dinner here tonight?” He’d mentioned family dinner a few minutes ago, but I’d been too distracted sucking his face to pay too much attention.

Between the good but disorienting interview at Mercy and the unnerving realization that Sam was the first thing I’d really chosen for myself in years, I’d needed a little TLC. He’d been happy to oblige, but had drawn the line at hiking my skirt up like I’d asked.

“ Later, ” he’d said, and I was too dazzled by his kisses to ask any further questions. I should have asked some freaking questions.

Now, I was standing in Conner and Jas’s empty kitchen, a cacophony of voices and sounds filtering from the dining room. A twist of red paper streamers flapped lazily where someone had taped it across the mantel.

“Conner’s birthday,” Sam responded, digging around in a drawer for a pen. He scrawled something on the bottle he was holding, chucking the Sharpie back just as Jas rounded the corner.

“Hey, sketchballs. Party’s in the dining room, stop creepin’. Sam and Lainey are here!” she shouted. Cheers drifted from the open doors to the other room. My heels dragged on the floor when Sam pushed me towards the sound.

“Samuel,” I’d never used his full name before, but the night I unknowingly crashed a family party seemed like as good a time as any to start. “I cannot invite myself to Conner’s birthday,” I hissed as he propelled me forward.

“You didn’t invite yourself. I invited you.”

“I don’t do birthdays. I don’t even know Conner that well.” Out of all the Reeses, he was the most foreign to me. We’d had a few interactions here and there, like over tacos and at the gym. Nothing that was I’m-coming-to-your-birthday-dinner-worthy.

“What do you mean, you don’t do birthdays?”

I glared at him, ignoring how cute he sounded, mimicking my inflection back to me. “I didn’t even bring a gift!”

“Didn’t you?” With that cryptic remark, he gave one last push that slid me into the dining room, handing Conner the bottle in his hands. “Happy birthday, brother. For you.”

“Thanks, Sammy. This is ni—holy shit!” His eyes widened, flickering from Sam to me. “This is too much.”

“Don’t drink it all at once.” Sam clapped his brother on the back, moving to greet Eli and June, who were orchestrating some sort of dinosaur/truck battle at the end of the table.

“Thank you, Lainey. I’m glad you could make it.” I snuck a peek at the bottle in his hand when Conner wrapped an arm around me. On the label, scrawled in Sam’s almost illegible script, it said, “35 for 35. Happy Birthday, from Sam & Lainey”

I didn’t know much about whiskey, but I got the feeling that a 35-year-old bottle was a pretty good one. I stared at that “& Lainey” a bit too long, its fresh black ink blending into the message I assumed Sam had penned earlier.

“I, uh, I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I know I wasn’t exactly invited.”

“Of course you’re invited.” Conner smiled down at me. “You’re family.”

I wasn’t, but I sure felt like it the longer I sat at the table, swapping jokes and listening to stories about Conner’s childhood. June and Jasmine had made enough food for an army. The table was loaded with lasagna, rolls, salad, and a horribly lumpy cake with enough neon blue frosting to be slightly off-putting.

Eli proudly informed us he’d helped decorate it. We all collectively spared a quick glance at each other before diving in, proclaiming how it was the most beautiful confection that had ever graced the planet.

Later, I attempted to make up for my unexpected presence by cleaning the kitchen with Sam and Will. Jas opened the screen door, and we watched Eli run around in the courtyard with an equally tireless June. Will and I chatted while Sam mostly listened in, adding his two cents when he felt like it.

The ringing of the doorbell sent Eli into a frenzy. He ran in from the yard yelling, “Genie’s here! Genie’s here!”

“Are we expecting someone else?” I watched as June followed, collecting her things from the patio table before she walked inside.

“Just my ride, dear. It was so lovely to see you.” June deposited a kiss on both her sons’ cheeks as an older man in a suit walked through the kitchen, carrying Eli on his shoulders.

“Happy birthday, Con. Hope it was a good one.” The man handed Conner an Al Green record before shaking his hand.

“Hey, thanks, Gene. I appreciate it. You sure you can’t stay for cake?”

“I demerated it!” Eli butt in, leaning over the man’s head to stare upside-down into his eyes.

The older man, Gene, widened his eyes, hamming it up as he circled what was left of the cake, ooh-ing and aah-ing. He introduced himself to me as “June’s fellow,” then whisked June out the door without ingesting any Smurf-blue frosting. Smart man. Sam and I made our own retreat shortly after.

“I didn’t know your mom had a fellow. ” I cuddled into Sam’s shoulder as we walked across the courtyard. The night was warm. The scent of earth, grass, and gardenias tickled my nose.

He grunted. “He’s a good guy. Been with my mom forever. Adores her, which I can’t fault.”

“Hmm. Why do you sound weird about that?”

He hauled me tighter when we walked up the few stairs to his back porch. The pads of his fingers rasped, raising goosebumps in their wake. “It’s just a little weird when you watch a parent get romantic with someone. Mom deserves to be happy. I’m glad she’s found a partner she loves.” He gave me a pained look while he locked the door behind us. “He calls her ‘blossom.’”

“Aw, because she’s a gardener. That’s cute.”

“Maybe for someone who’s not my mom. I don’t know. I’m not into pet names.”

I stopped in my tracks, cocking my head at him. “Could have fooled me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…there’s Sweetheart…” I traced the swirls in his countertop, watching him start the dishwasher. “I like that one quite a bit. Sometimes Honey, when you’re feeling extra sweet.”

“Those are endearments, not pet names. It’s not like blossom or muffin or—”

“Baby?”

He snorted. “I have never in my life called a woman ‘baby.’ ”