Chapter 3

Sam

“You can express your gratitude by taking this out to my car so I can drop it at the laundry place.” Will shook a trash bag filled with used sweat towels in my direction.

“Gratitude for…?” I asked, re-racking the last of the weights. Nearly everyone had cleared out, with only a few people lingering around, chatting by the water fountain or leaving the locker rooms. Lainey had ducked out the door a few minutes ago with a little wave in our direction. I was still riding the high of that look from earlier, that smile she’d given me.

Will’s eyebrows bounced on his forehead. He looked so smug, it was ridiculous. “I saw you two hitting it off once she finished whaling on that bag. Thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you?” I eyed him as I walked back to the front. “In what fucking world?”

“Who paired you two up? Who told you to get the ball rolling and ask her out? All me, bro.”

“No.” This morning was all me. No way Will was taking the credit.

Somehow, a single, honest conversation had done more to improve our relationship than three years of working together had accomplished. By the end of class, she looked like she actually wanted to talk with me or share a smile when Will said something completely ridiculous. Considering where we’d started when she’d walked in this morning, it was a miracle.

Except for the oatmeal thing. I’d be nursing that wound for a while. But once we’d gotten over that, she’d stuck around my vicinity for most of my workout. Oatmeal aside, a win was a win.

It was enough to make me rethink my strategy of hanging back and waiting for her fellowship to be over. Maybe I needed to get on her radar now. Lay the foundation a little, so when I did ask her out, it wasn’t coming out of nowhere.

“Yes,” Will insisted, launching the trash bag at my head after I pulled my duffel onto my shoulder. Of course, Will had been the one to force us together this morning. But that didn’t mean I had to admit it to him.

“Goodbye, William.” I grabbed the trash bag and headed for the door.

“Car’s unlocked,” he called as I stepped into the sunlight. He raised his voice as he continued, yelling, “And do yourself a favor. Grow a pair and ask Lainey out!”

I turned my head to yell back at him, but stalled out halfway there. Lainey stood by her car, only a few feet from the door, staring at me with wide, “holy crap” eyes. A hole opened up underneath me and my stomach dove into it.

Shit . How much of that had she heard? The door swung shut behind me, the soft click more like a sonic boom.

She pointed to her chest. “Ask me out?” she squeaked. Her eyes flashed around my face, taking in the heat I could feel flooding my cheeks. “I wasn’t supposed to hear that.”

“No,” I grunted in agreement, the only sound I could make at the moment. Embarrassment clawed up my neck, dragging my galloping pulse with it. This was bad. Very bad. And I was just standing here, staring at her, beet-red, probably making it worse.

“Sorry, I was talking to that new guy, Jackson. I guess you thought I was already gone…I’m sorry,” she babbled, looking at me like she also wanted to be swallowed up by whatever massive sinkhole my vital organs had dropped into. Her apology somehow made everything worse, and the burning crept up to my ears.

Fuck.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes and willing myself to breathe, to think for a second, instead of clamming up from the raw mortification currently flooding my system. Looking at her wasn’t helping me figure out what to say next. Her face was pained, like my humiliation had flooded the parking lot and she was absorbing some of it, secondhand.

This was all wrong. Sudden and out of the blue; I didn’t know what to say. I’d formulated a plan: Play the long game. Get closer to her when her fellowship was done. Once we’ve had a few conversations that didn’t include someone’s ventricles, ask her out.

It had been a solid plan, but this? This was not good. My thundering heartbeat was at odds with my sluggish, halting thoughts. I didn’t know what to say , dammit. What words could take that stricken look off her face and smooth out some of the astronomical levels of embarrassment swirling around us?

I blinked my eyes open. She was still there, grimacing, like she didn’t know what to do, either. I took a steadying breath. Another one. And I vocalized the only complete thought my brain could supply right now.

“I’m sorry you heard that.” I was. Very sorry. Like, would have sold about ten years of my life to go back in time and keep the damn door closed for three extra seconds.

“Should we…pretend I didn’t?” She looked like she wasn’t sure that was the best course of action.

I grunted, taking a few seconds to consider while I stomped to Will’s car and jerked the door open. It was a tempting, easy solution. She’d go her way, I’d go mine, and we’d just forget this ever happened. Except that look on her face would haunt me—Distress, surprise, unease. None of the things you want a girl to feel when she learns you’re interested.

I ripped the plastic bag open and dumped the towels directly into the passenger’s seat. Fuck you, Will .

I could see how it would go down. We’d ignore the moment, now, but what would happen if I saw her at work on Monday? She’d awkwardly avoid my gaze? Paste on a polite, impersonal smile whenever she saw me, pretending everything was fine when in reality it was super weird? Worst-case scenario, it got so uncomfortable that she avoided me completely?

I cursed under my breath. No, that wouldn’t work. I had to do this right, and just do it now. The thought made my throat tight. I wished, not for the first time, I was more like my brother. Someone who said the perfect thing at the perfect time, without having to think about it for a while.

But I didn’t have that skill. All I had right now was the truth. It had been working for me so far this morning. I might as well grow a pair, as Will advised. Fucking Will .

Lainey bit her lip, waiting. My whole body felt like it was burning now. Best to just rip off the bandaid. “Will said that because he knows I like—that is…I’m attracted to you. I have been for a while.”

Her mouth popped open, like she was surprised I’d actually said it out loud, instead of letting her walk away. “You—oh.”

I cleared my throat, gave a tight smile. “Yeah. I was planning to tell you. Not now, obviously. Fellows and attendings…we’re not really supposed to mix. Romantically.”

“Right.” She nodded, brow furrowing. “Hospital policy.”

“I also didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” I paused, sizing her up. Her surprise looked troubled now. Baffled. Like I’d only explained half of a surgical procedure, then asked her to complete the rest without me. It didn’t seem like a good sign.

“I…right. I’m not. Uncomfortable, that is.” She frowned deeper, like she was feeling the words out as she said them. Checking in on how she really felt. My bet was on completely dumbfounded. Before this morning, we’d never had a single non-work-related conversation. Now I was telling her I liked her? Bizarre.

“Well, great. That’s one of us, because I’d like to throw myself in front of a car.”

My response actually surprised a laugh out of her. A real one, not a you-just-told-me-you’re-attracted-to-me-and-I-think-you’re-a-bowl-of-oatmeal-so-here’s-a-pity-laugh, laugh. Despite the ridiculous awkwardness of this conversation, it broke some of the tension crackling between us.

Her chuckled ended on a strained groan, and she put her hands over her face. Definitely secondhand humiliation. “I’m so sorry, this is just really unexpected and really—”

“Awkward. This is really fucking awkward. Don’t worry, I’m going to kill Will later.” She smiled again and I latched onto it.

My brain was picking across the undercurrent of the conversation, teetering precariously from one sentence to the next. I felt like at any minute I’d miss something and drown in the demoralization of it all.

I cleared my throat, trying to put my finger on the next best thing to say. The next truth. The only thing that came to mind was an echo of what she’d said earlier. “I hope this doesn’t affect our working relationship.” I made a face. This time, her laugh sounded strangled.

Her eyes darted around the parking lot, like she was looking for answers. “Ah…I don’t think it will?” Even though she was smiling, working to gloss over the uncomfortable situation, I didn’t like the hesitation in her voice.

The strained, impersonal smiles and workplace avoidance were still a distinct possibility. It was the last thing I wanted, and I felt the need to reassure her I wasn’t going to make it weird. I’d heard her tell Jones she didn’t date people from work. I hated the thought of her being on edge around me, thinking I was going to hound her like he did.

“I’m cool if you’re cool,” I offered. I could be cool. I’d been cool this whole time. Playing it cool, keeping my cool. So fucking cool. Alright, stop thinking about the word cool .

“Yeah, I’m…cool.” Now, only half her mouth tilted up, like only part of her was committed to it. I’d take it. This shitshow of a conversation had gone on long enough. I wanted to get out of here.

I didn’t need to hear her tell me she was so flattered, but she ’ d just never thought of me like that before , or something. It had been written all over her face the second I’d walked out that door. She wasn’t into it. I didn’t need to drag any of this out.

Time to regroup. Far away from here. Take the world’s longest shower and plot my brother’s demise and try not to think about how such a great morning had gone south so fast.

“Then, we’re good.” I swallowed. We were good. This was fine. Just fine. “Good workout today, Dr. Carmichael.” I turned away before I could second-guess myself and her and this entire conversation. She was still standing where I’d left her as I drove away.

◆◆◆

“I swear, Reese, it’s freaking Grey’s Anatomy out there!” Director Caplan nodded out his interior window, where it overlooked the lobby of the cardiac unit. It was Monday, and I’d worked up the nerve to come to work after cringing for two days straight every time I thought of my conversation with Lainey.

I’m attracted to you. Caplan was right. That was some Grey's Anatomy shit.

“So, she’s suing?” I took a bite of my sandwich, telling myself to stay on track. Caplan had invited me here to talk about my new proposal for the residency program, but he’d gone off on a tangent. A love triangle gone wrong between a cardiac attending and two anesthesiologists.

Caplan scowled. “She’s saying it’s a toxic work environment now that she has to work with both of them. The board is tied up in knots over it. It’s the third time this year some office romance bullshit has threatened the organization.”

I shoved another bite into my mouth, trying not to think about how close I’d come to proposing my own office romance bullshit to Caplan’s favorite fellow.

“Anyway. They’re working it out with legal. They’re talking about some new policy to report relationships up to HR, as if it’ll help anyone keep it in their pants. At least it takes some liability off of the hospital. Sturmond's been beating his quality standards drum. I think he’s doing most of the work to push it through.”

“Hmm.” Not many people could discern how I felt at any given moment. I was tight-lipped at the best of times and downright silent for the rest. But I’d been working with Caplan long enough that he was getting the picture, especially since I’d started taking over responsibilities with the residents, even if it was only in an unofficial capacity.

“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re no fan of Sturmond’s right now. Or the quality board.” An understatement, and we both knew it. “But we wouldn’t be sitting here if he hadn’t convinced the hospital board to open up this new campus.”

The sleek glass and steel around us was a testament to the man’s hard work; I’d give him that. Our cardiac center was no longer crammed back behind the main hospital campus across town. The new building was the jewel of the row of hospitals known as Chicago’s medical district.

The tall glass exterior glittered. Everywhere you looked in here, it was all gleaming white tile and shining chrome fixtures—and that was just in the patient-facing areas. The ORs, the staff lounges, conference rooms, and offices were crammed with the latest amenities and medical gadgets. Yeah, Sturmond was an ass, but he knew how to build a damn hospital.

“He’s feeling overly proprietary about everything. The whole advisory board is. I give it another year before they get bored or turn their members over and we can go back to business as usual.”

Caplan wasn’t a bad man, and he wasn’t even a bad director, but he rolled over for the board. First, the hospital board, when they’d announced they were putting Sturmond in charge of the new quality board. Now, he lacked a spine when that same quality board marched in and stomped all over our clinical proceedings. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, Sturmond felt it was his right to intrude on our surgical cases, but the man certainly loved playing king of the castle.

I kept those thoughts to myself. Caplan shifted, pulling a file closer to him. “Let’s talk about better stuff, huh? This is great work. I like the approach—take surgical time from the attendings and focus it on the residents. Give the residents more time in the OR. No one else is doing it quite like this.” Caplan tapped on the folder containing my proposal for the new resident teaching structure. I’d been thinking about it for months, and it had been on his desk for three weeks. It was gratifying, at least, that he had read it.

I hoped that the hiring committee for the new resident program director would be equally as impressed as Caplan. I was early in my career, only three years out of my own training, and it was rare for someone with that little experience to head a program like this. But I wanted it more than anyone else at Cedar, and every little bit would help to sway the committee into taking me seriously.

“You’ll have to get the surgeons to buy into it, though.” He flipped through the pages. “Usually, we have to pry them out of the OR. Not sure how many will want to trade a surgical day to babysit the residents.”

“I’ve had several surgeons express interest.” After some convincing, of course. I was a man of few words, but what I lacked in quantity, I liked to think I made up for in quality. Every surgeon I’d discussed the plan with had eventually admitted its merits, and even told me they’d be interested in trying it. At its core, Cedar was a teaching hospital. If we lost that foundation, we weren’t anything but a money-making factory that happened to stitch people up.

“Be that as it may, I’m running it by a few people on the executive team. It’s an unorthodox concept, but you have a way with the residents, so you must know what you’re talking about.” The folder flipped closed. “Carmichael okay when you broke the news about the EVLP? How’d she seem when you saw her last?”

When I saw her last? In those leggings, with the post-workout glow, looking bewildered in a parking lot while I confessed my feelings to her? Something told me that wasn’t the version of the story Caplan wanted to hear.

“She was upset, but she’ll come around. It didn’t help that I denied her OR request the same day.”

“Ah, that CAD patient? It was the right call. She’s getting close to the end of her fellowship. She’s antsy to prove herself. We’ve all been there.” Caplan took a bite of his roast beef on rye, not bothering to cover his mouth as he continued, “Besides, the job is hers in a few months. If anyone’s earned it, it’s her. You hear about the research she’s working on with UCLA? Incredible.”

Yes. She was incredible. She may have come to Cedar under less-than-conventional circumstances, but she’d more than proved herself. And she only had a few more weeks before her dream of working here became a reality.

After our conversation this weekend, I knew I didn’t have to waste my breath to see if she was interested. We could both just live our lives, crossing paths occasionally when a case needed another set of eyes or specific expertise. And that was for the best. Really.

Until then, I’d just stay out of her way as much as I could.