Chapter 5

Lainey

Any clinician in the world will tell you that the worst part of their job is notes. Give me a spurting aorta all day long. Necrotic tissue? No sweat. But documentation ? I’d rather pitch myself off the roof.

Unfortunately for me, my chosen profession required a lot of documentation, and all of it had to be completed before my butt left the hospital. People developed their own coping mechanisms for inputting notes. I’d watched every attendings’ habits like a good little worker bee and found that I did best when I could devote the last bit of my day to some serious, godforsaken note taking.

I didn’t always accomplish it. Emergency surgeries and declining patient cases took priority over an hour of peace at the end of my shift. When I could, though, I escaped from the unit to find a quiet conference room or empty office on the administrative side of our floor.

Oddly enough, today was the first day I realized I’d adopted this particular habit from Dr. Reese. Which is why I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found him hunched over the conference table in meeting room B.

“Oh! Shoot. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here…I can…” I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder at the hallway. The movement set off a chain reaction that bobbled my laptop and caused my phone and tablet to slide precariously across the protective plastic case. I made an undignified squeaking noise as I clapped my hand back over the whole technological mess. My neck heated again.

The on-call board said he was supposed to leave at six today, and I’d breathed a sigh of relief when the clock hit 6:01. I’d spent the last few days looking for him around every corner, equally anticipating and anxious that I’d run into him. It was exhausting.

But lo-and-behold, here he was, still in the building. Staring at me with raised brows while I flushed and squeaked in his direction.

“Stay.”

I froze, halfway out the door. “Oh, ah, I don’t want to interrupt your—” My belongings shifted again as I flailed my hand towards his computer.

“I’m almost done. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for intervening when hospital property is endangered.” He pointed a look at the wobbling pile of devices in my hands. Across the table from him, one of the rolling chairs shot backwards, kicked out by his sneakered foot.

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat, lowering myself into the chair and spreading my various gadgets around me. “I can’t chart without some quiet.”

“Mmm.” Reese’s eyes met mine for a split second before lowering to his computer screen. Just long enough for me to perceive very clearly that he had already, in fact, known this about me.

My throat worked as I tapped my way through the log-in screen to the electronic health record portal. I’d start with Mrs. Johnson and the post-op I’d gone through this morning.

“I’m attracted to you. I have been for a while.”

His words from this weekend lingered in my mind as I navigated through her chart, entering the codes and notes. Just how much did he know about me? As my attending, it was normal that he knew my preferred charting environment, right? I knew his, after all.

I didn’t realize I’d stopped typing to stare at the man across from me until his blue eyes connected with mine. His eyebrow twitched, and I wondered how, seemingly overnight, I could interpret those little ticks and twitches. In this case, something along the lines of “You good?”

“Sorry. Long day.” I shrugged, slipping lower in my chair in an unsuccessful attempt to hide behind my computer screen. He was so tall , and I wasn’t sure what to do with him now that I knew he had feelings for me; at least, he claimed he did. His behavior didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary. I was the one being a doof.

“Any issues with that valve repair this afternoon?”

“Nope, all good. Patient is stable.” I tip-tapped away, trying not to draw attention to the flush slowly crawling up my face.

He paused. I could still feel his eyes on me. I frowned at my computer, hopefully doing a decent job of imitating someone actually working. He nodded once and then focused on his own screens, fingers running over his beard.

I managed to get through three more patient files before my gaze strayed again. His eyes met mine for an instant before he returned to his notes. Unfazed.

“What are you working on?” The question tumbled out of me before I could stop myself. It didn’t feel right that I was suddenly so preoccupied with his existence and he was so unaffected by mine. I remembered how intensely he’d focused on me at the gym. His unwavering honesty in the parking lot. The entire experience had been so different from my normal interactions with him. It was distractingly enigmatic.

Like he always did, he paused, studying me. “I’m working with a patient right now that I’d consider a fringe case. I may recommend an ablation, but I’m not sure she’s the right candidate.”

“An atrial fibrillation ablation?” I gasped. The corner of his mouth twitched. Something about it felt like a win.

“Yes.”

“You’re performing an atrial fibrillation ablation in this hospital? Like, soon?”

“Maybe.” The twitch turned into something deeper. Not quite a smile, but not quite not a smile.

“Do you need an assist?”

A full-blown grin slipped across his face. Something fluttered in the vicinity of my gastrointestinal system. He leaned forward slowly, tenting his elbows on either side of his computer. “Doctor Carmichael. If I move forward with the procedure, would you like to assist in the operating room?”

“Yes!” My voice sounded squeaky again. How could it not, when one hundred percent of this man’s attention rested squarely on my face? But I didn’t care. I’d just nabbed a potential assist for a very cool surgery. “I’ve never seen one before. Not live, that is. Only videos.”

He nodded, considering me. “Alright. I’ll request you if I go down that road.”

Our eyes were locked. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Though the table seated twelve, the room was getting smaller by the second. I swallowed. His eyes didn’t waver from my face.

“You could give it to Jones, you know. I don’t want you to feel like…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me the cool surgical case just because you have the hots for me ?

He shrugged. “You asked first.”

“Right, right.” My head bobbed up and down. Another few seconds of silence descended on our little staring competition. I broke it again, succumbing to the intrusive thought that maybe he was only giving me the cool surgical case because he was attracted to me.

“I just mean…I wouldn’t want any special treatment because…because…of what you said earlier. In the parking lot. This weekend.” Shut up, Lainey ! As if he needed to be reminded of the particulars of the conversation. Or, heck, maybe he did. Maybe he ran around in all his spare time talking about long-term unrequited crushes with everyone he knew.

“It hasn’t been a problem so far.”

His face was as expressionless as ever, but something about it seemed amused. Well, he had every right to be amused. I was being ridiculous. I’d been ridiculous all day long, with all my staring. And here I was, still doing it.

I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse now that he was staring back at me.

“Is this weird for you?” I whispered.

A pause. “Not weird, no.”

Ah, well. Just me then.

“I’m attracted to you. I have been for a while.” Despite the tension in the air and the weight of his eyes on me, something about his bare honesty this weekend gave me enough courage to lay my own confession on the table between us.

“I’ve been staring at you a lot today.”

“Yes.” He nodded. So, he had noticed.

“I can’t help it. Ever since this weekend and what…what you said. I can’t look at you the same.”

He scowled. It was possibly the most movement I’d ever seen on his face. “I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable or to change anything between us. I apologize if—"

“No, no.” I waved my hand like I could swat his apology out of the air. “No, it’s not you. It’s totally me. I hadn’t thought of you like that before and now…now it’s like you’re a totally new person.”

It felt like I’d spent the last three years going about my life and then someone had pointed out there was a bear in the corner of the room I’d never noticed before. It was shocking. And I couldn’t stop staring at it. Or, you know, him .

“Hmm.” His thumb traced back and forth over the edge of his laptop. The movement hypnotized me. “You said that before. You’d never thought of me that way.”

“No. Never.”

“Oof.”

“I didn’t mean that you’re not—” A smile cracked across his face before my horrified gasp was complete.

“I’m kidding, Lainey.” His fingers flickered through the air before returning to the edge of his keyboard. Back and forth and back and forth . “I’m not the most outgoing guy in the world. There aren’t a lot of reasons for you to think of me that way.”

“More than you’d think,” I muttered before leaning in like we were conspirators. “Some people on our floor call you ‘Daddy Reese.’”

“Jesus,” he stuttered. Finally, finally , his eyes slid away. His cheeks started working on a flush of their own. Something in my competitive little brain cheered. A reaction. Yes.

“I’m serious. Someone told me that everyone has had a crush on you at some point. Everyone ,” I repeated when his incredulous gaze swung to mine. He maintained eye contact even as his blush deepened.

“I’ll have to ask Whitaker next time I see him.” His fingers ran over his beard again, like he was seriously considering it.

A cackling laugh burst out of me at the thought of him asking the oldest, most curmudgeonly surgeon in the hospital if the old guy had a crush on him. The sound echoed in the big, empty room. His flush burned bright now, but so did his grin, and yet his eyes never left mine. That gastrointestinal flutter became a full on stampede.

“It’s a slippery slope,” I warned. “Once you know Whitaker’s into you, you can’t close that Pandora’s box. Next time you’re in the same office with him, you’re going to look over and suddenly notice how nice his hands are, or his shoes…or something.”

He blinked at me, golden eyelashes brushing slowly across his cheekbones. “Is that why you’ve been staring? You realize you like my shoes?”

The smile slid off my face. It was easier for me to talk about all the noticing I’d been doing today if I projected it onto someone else. It was harder to swallow when I confronted my own feelings head-on. Even more so because I still wasn’t sure exactly what I felt. I was confused and intrigued and, dare I say, a little bit interested? That gave me pause.

But he’d been honest with me at a vulnerable moment. I owed him the same.

“Yes. That’s what happened.” My eyes fluttered down, unseeing, to the screensaver bouncing around my laptop. Just because I owed him some honesty didn’t mean I had to stare at him while I talked. “I do like your shoes. And the way you talk to patients. And lead rounds. I like…” You.

But that felt like a bridge too far right at this moment. Right when I was still in the noticing part.

“I liked working out with you.”

When I finally dragged my eyes back to his, I expected to see confusion, maybe exasperation at my obvious cop-out. Instead, I got that steady, straightforward gaze. A slight deepening at the corners of his mouth. “I liked that, too.”

“I know I’m a fellow and you’re an attending so we can’t...But you should know that I don’t like to date guys from work, anyway.” This was important for him to know. And important for me to remind myself. My formerly staid, oatmeal-esque feelings for this man had been diverted, like a train hopping off a track. If I didn’t apply some brakes, I wasn’t sure what would happen. “Entangling my professional life with my personal—it’s too much.”

He nodded, still studying me seriously. “I’ve heard you mention that to Jones.”

“It’s not just lip service to get him off my back. I do really want to keep those aspects of my life separate.” Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and wept a river of tears. I wasn’t interested in a repeat. But…“But maybe we could hit the gym again. Together.”

That was acceptable for two colleagues who attended the same gym, right? It just made sense that we’d chat if we happened to see each other there. Surely that was safe? It felt like a good step, at least, when I felt like I needed to know him much better than I currently did.

“I’d like that.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up like he found this whole conversation amusing, and I was telling myself again and again not to blush. It was only a loose commitment to work out. Not a date.

“I work out in the mornings, when I can,” I offered.

That dang corner of his mouth deepened ever so slightly again as he closed his computer and gathered up his things. “Yes.” Another lingering second of eye contact. Another reminder that the man knew my schedule and, somehow, also knew my recreational fitness habits.

“Have a good night, Carmichael.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to respond with something equally bland. A nice “see you around” or “have a good one”, perhaps. But his quiet, unruffled demeanor was throwing me off. Now that he was standing, his presence filled the room, choking out any of the air or logic I had left. I babbled, “This weekend, you said you’d…you said you’d felt this way for a while. How long is a while?”

For the last few days, all I could think about was the fact that he’d been into me and I’d barely noticed his existence. It didn’t seem right. I’d been in this man’s orbit for nearly three years now. That was a long time. Although to some people, six months was a long time. Which was it for him? Surely I’d have picked up on something if he’d flipped head over heels for me the moment we’d met. Right?

He paused, fingers on the door handle, seconds from slipping down the hall. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to hack his brain and watch all his thoughts circling in real-time. I wanted to understand how he listened and watched and cared so much and then how he distilled that all into…

“Night, Lainey,” he tossed over his shoulder, avoiding the question—and looking at me—altogether.