by Swati MH
“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” I murmur to myself sarcastically as I back the car out from the driveway.
Why will my ‘prowess’ in aligning my heart with my mind be tested this week? Why will my beliefs be questioned? I don’t want them to be questioned! My beliefs are the only things keeping me stitched together most days! Maybe I should drag my ass back to bed and forego facing this week altogether.
It’s with these thoughts whirring in the back of my mind, making me feel unsettled, that I drive into work Monday. I’m sure I glower at everyone I work with, convinced that somehow they’ll be the cause of my beliefs being put into question. When Lynn brings a box of Junior Mints for us to snack on instead of our regular gummy worms, I honestly look at her like she’s grown two heads.
She keeps her distance from me the rest of the day, mumbling the word “prickly” under her breath.
Luckily, things go as expected and nothing is out of the ordinary, except for my jumpiness. I check on Braxton and am glad to see his collarbone is healing as expected, though I’m sure he’s not comfortable with his arm affixed to his body like it is. His parents have been staying with him pretty regularly, doing as much as possible for him to try to get the hang of taking care of him. I also get a new preemie named Jack, who was born with extra fluid in his lungs. To help support his breathing, I put a nasal cannula into his nose and get him on an IV drip as per his doctor’s instructions, before leaving him to rest in his warmer.
After work, I slip into the last yoga class for the night before heading home. Once I’ve finished talking to Dad about his day--he went out for a walk today and was able to enjoy the sunshine, which is more progress than I had expected--making dinner for the both of us, cleaning the kitchen, and then settling into a bath with my e-reader, I’ve almost forgotten about my cryptic weekly horoscope. Instead, I focus on the part that said ‘good fortune will be coming into my house of transformation’. Whatever that means.
Maybe it has something to do with Major. We exchanged a few texts throughout the day and decided to meet again for dinner this weekend.
I’m just breathing in the lavender scent from the candle I lit near the bathtub and finishing up the thriller I’m reading when I hear my phone vibrate with a text.
Well? How was the date with Major? I’d meant to text Avni yesterday, but it slipped my mind once I got into doing house chores.
I wipe my hands off on the towel near me before typing back. It was good. Interesting.
Interesting? Learning about World War II is interesting. Spill, Cass.
My best friend knows me too well and it’s not like I’m trying to be vague; I just haven’t completely sorted out my feelings about the date to be able to tell her much more. He’s a nice guy, extremely disciplined, and hard-working. He has a really nice smile, but he doesn’t like to flash it often. There was this one awkward moment when the waiter forgot to bring one part of my meal and Major was so pissed, there was heat rising off him, but he relaxed once that was all fixed.
I see three dots jump on the screen indicating that Avni was typing, but I send her another text just to clarify. Overall though, I liked getting to know him and our conversations flowed well.
She types back after a moment. Really? He got that angry about a minor mix up? That seems a little dramatic. But I’m glad overall it was okay.
I understand what she’s saying, but he did soften up after that ordeal. Hopefully it was just an off day for him. Yeah, I thought the same thing at first but who knows, maybe it’s because he just has higher expectations from high-end restaurant staff.
Did it turn you on when he got all pissed? She types back, making me laugh.
I send her a laughing emoji. No. It kind of worried me, TBH.
Okay, cuz when Clark gets pissed about something and his jaw ticks . . . man, he is so hot, I want to jump him. In fact, I kind of want to go piss him off about something right now.
TMI, friend. I’m good with not knowing any more about you and your disgustingly happy love.
Okay, let me know if you change your mind. I’m happy to share details. I can almost see her laughing.
Rest assured, I won’t.
The next day, after filing some paperwork and updating some charts at the nurses’ station, I’m on my way to check on both my patients. Luckily for me, Jack’s parents have also opted for the private rooms in the same wing as Braxton, so even though it’s far from the nurses’ station, at least I’m not running from one end of the floor to the other to examine them.
After doing the routine checkup on Braxton, changing his diaper, and giving him a bottle, I walk across the hall to Jack’s room. I leave the door open since it’s early in the day and there aren’t many visitors on this side of the floor yet.
There’s a wheezing sound coming from him, but I reassure myself that it’s common with babies with wet lungs and nothing for me to worry about. His oxygen levels are slightly below normal levels though, and his heart rate is lower than expected. While he seems to be struggling to breathe, his coloring looks normal.
I’m in the middle of weighing out what to do about the baby when I hear a knock on the door. “Good morning, Nurse Livingston.” Of course, it’s the man I’ve tried to avoid thinking about, dreaming about, or running into since he entered my life and this hospital a few weeks ago. And of course, he’s also the same man for whom I’ve failed doing all of those things.
Why can’t we be on different work schedules . . . or planets?
“Good morning, Dr. Bedi,” I say as if exhausted by his mere presence already. I try not to leer at him this time; instead, I quickly move my attention back to checking on Jack. This man does not need any more strokes to his ego, but damn if my mind can’t help but wonder what his lean frame looks like under that dark gray button-down shirt tucked perfectly into those black trousers. “I’m assuming you came to check on Braxton? He’s in room four.”
Hint, hint. Please scoot on over to room four and take your heady smell with you.
“I already checked on him. He appears to be recovering as expected.” Vik stays at the door for a moment before coming in. He’s squinting at the EKG connected to Jack with a contemplative expression on his face. “His heart rate seems low to me. Is that something you’ve seen with him before?”
I grimace, thinking the same thing. “No, it was normal yesterday when I was monitoring him.”
Vik continues to watch, his jaw set tight as I move over to change Jack’s IV. Strangely, and in contrast to just a minute ago, his presence in the room feels welcomed. There’s a knot at the bottom of my stomach, similar to the one I’ve had right before plummeting down a steep roller coaster. Vik’s presence feels like a harness keeping me from being ejected right out of my seat.
I’m in the middle of hanging the new bag of fluid on the IV pole when I hear the hair-raising beep from the heart rate monitor. Convinced that the machine is malfunctioning, I check to make sure it’s still connected to the baby. But every cell in my body tenses as I look from the monitor to Jack and then to Vik. Jack’s heart rate and oxygen have dropped to dangerous levels, and now he seems to be turning blue.
This can’t be happening.
Vik is already at the baby’s bed with his stethoscope, checking his respiratory rate and listening to his heart. The deep frown on his face tells me that the machine hasn’t malfunctioned like I had hoped.
“Oh God. Please tell me he’s still breathing.” My throat clenches as the words come out of my mouth. They feel unnatural as I verbalize them, like they’ve been spoken by someone else.
Vik doesn’t need to respond to me. “Call code blue, now! I need to start bagging the baby.” His face has turned severe, his focus solely on the baby as he starts to manually resuscitate Jack.
I run to the phone and dial the digits to call the code team into Jack’s room, my heart hammering like a drill inside my chest, my hands shaking as if all the adrenaline in my body has rushed into them. I only stand there
momentarily, stricken with fear after making the call, my hand covering my mouth as I watch Vik move on to chest compressions. The private rooms are far from the nurses’ station and my stomach bottoms out, not knowing how long it will take for the code team to arrive.
“Take over, I need to intubate him!” Vik demands and I switch positions with him, feeling Jack’s tiny, frail body under my fingertips. My breath catches and I fight to keep my tears at bay. After getting what he needs from the supply cabinet, Vik threads a tube into the baby’s throat as gently as possible to open his airway. I watch his strong, steady hands push the tube into the baby’s listless body. This isn’t something he has to do often--if ever since medical school--but watching him, you’d think he’s done it a million times.
Though everything feels like it’s moving at the speed of light, it also feels like hours have passed before the code team arrives. I move out of their way and they take over as soon as Vik has finished intubating the baby. Within seconds, a swarm of concerned doctors and nurses are frantically performing the necessary tasks to get Jack back to breathing normally.
My entire body shakes with tremors as I breathe in large gulps of air, reviving my lungs. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. Staring at Jack helplessly as the team works to bring him back, I watch half-stunned and half-numb. Even though it feels like too much time has passed, it’s only within moments that his heart rate climbs and amidst the commotion, there’s a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room.
In my five years as a nurse, this is the second time I’ve had to call a code blue or experience such a situation. And each time has taken a physical and emotional toll on my body, similar to the one I experienced seven years ago. My training as a nurse prepared me to save a life, but it never trained me to process the feelings that come with losing a patient--or almost losing one.
I’m still trembling, standing in a corner of the room, when a hand on my lower back jolts me from my trance. My head tilts up in a daze to meet Vik’s eyes. “I think we can step outside,” he says softly, giving me a tight but reassuring smile. I’m sure he can see my face, drained of all color and tears hanging off my eyelashes.
When I don’t respond, he urges me again, pulling me outside and into an empty adjoining room. I don’t notice him close the door to the room. I don’t even think I register that I’m in another room because all I can see is Jack’s lifeless little body in his warmer. My trembling hand is back to covering my mouth, my mind trying to work through the events of the past five minutes.
It’s only when my forehead bumps into his chest and the scent of his woodsy and floral cologne enters my nose that I notice the weight of his arms around me, pulling me into him. His fingers run through my hair so gently, you’d think he was caressing an injured hatchling. Resting his hands around the back of my neck, his thumb softly caresses my skin. It’s as if his embrace is the salve to the rusty bolt in my gut. As it loosens, I let out a soft sob against his chest as hot tears run down my cheeks.
Vik’s mouth comes to my ear as his hand goes back into my hair. “Shh,” he whispers. “You did great. He’s going to be fine.”
I shake my head as I choke out the thought that’s running wild in my brain. “What if he’s not?”
Vik pulls me from him, holding me by the shoulders and bending down so he can meet my watery gaze. “Hey, listen to me.” He wipes my wet cheek with his thumb. “He is. I saw the whole thing. I know it feels like it took forever, but believe me, you did everything on time and you did it all correctly. You saved him!”
Vik pulls me back into his chest, and I don’t know how long we stand there while I try to steady my breathing. My mind is still reeling with questions weighing me down with the heft of an anvil. Why didn’t I figure it out earlier? Why didn’t I call Jack’s doctor as soon as I saw his heart rate drop? What if he has long-term damage because I waited too long?
And then another thought occurs, which leaves me breathless.
What would have happened if Vik wasn’t there?
Swallowing hard against my dry throat, I step back from his embrace and press the heels of my hands against my lids, wiping my tears. “Thank you,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
I don’t need to explain my gratitude further because he knows what I’m thanking him for. Not just being there, at the right place and time to save Jack’s life, but also for letting me break down like that in his arms.
God. Do I really need to owe this guy any more?
No matter how much I want to dislike him, no matter how much of an iron fence I put up around my heart, he seems determined to cut his way through. My belief that his devilish grin and his penchant for charming women right out of their panties should be enough to send me running toward the nearest exit, but something in me still wants to stay transfixed to this spot.
My thoughts have never felt so out of control, as if they weren’t mine at all. I’ve always been proud of my ability to judge people quickly. It’s kept me from making mistakes--from getting hurt.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but a gorgeous smile won’t charm me.
I’m not the girl who reads the book because the cover is beautiful. I’m not the girl who invests time into something, knowing full well that it could be a waste. And I’m not the girl who makes hasty decisions with my heart.
So why am the girl second-guessing herself when it comes to this man?
He reaches out to wipe a stray tear from my cheek, his warm thumb gently pressing against my blotchy skin, sending a shiver straight to my toes. I tell myself it’s just the after-shock from the traumatic experience and nothing more. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, my body has perked up in all the wrong places, and his masterful gaze has licked it all up. An infuriating grin plays on his lips, sending warning signals to all parts of my body, including the one at the apex of my thighs.
This would be the right time to run.
“You’re building up quite the tab of favors with me, little firecracker.”
I scoff, trying to dismiss any of the heat that’s built up between us as I square my shoulders. “Um, no, I’m not. I’m already paid up for the last time, and this . . . ” I point to the door, indicating what just happened in Jack’s room, “this was just you doing your job.”
He drops his hand from my face and his smile broadens, pulling his delicious lips across gleaming teeth. Walking toward the door, he looks over at me. “Sure, if that helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.” He winks at me before pulling the door open. “Go ahead and keep feeding yourself lies that make you feel like you’re in control of this.” He points back and forth between us. “The question is, can you digest them?”
One thing is clear--he’s not talking about my tab of favors anymore. He’s talking about the words I recite to myself when I’m alone and stray thoughts of him enter my imagination. The mantra I keep chanting, in hopes that if I repeat it enough, I’ll actually start to believe it--Vik Bedi is no good for me.
Vik Bedi is no good for me. Vik Bedi is no good for me.
Vik Bedi could be good for me.
He walks out, leaving words stuck in my mouth, unable to break loose. My expression, frozen in stunned silence.
I should have run when I had the chance.
8
Vik
With my heart still beating out of my chest like a speeding locomotive, I walk toward the elevator to get back to the orthopedic ward. The past ten minutes were some of the most unexpected moments I’ve had--which is saying a lot considering I’ve worked in the emergency room.
Neither Cassie nor I were prepared for what had happened--not the baby’s heartbeat decreasing so rapidly or the emotions that came afterward. Thank everything holy that we were able to react quickly and get the baby back into stable condition. And, thank God I remembered how to intubate a newborn! It’s definitely not something I do every day.
But that’s not why my heart is pounding so hard. In fact, I find it fascinating that sa
ving a life has my heart at a steadier pace than being in close proximity to Cassie. I suppose it shouldn’t be that surprising, considering that patient care comes second-nature to me at this point. I need to be at my most focused and steady disposition when I’m performing surgery, or in this case, trying to bring a newborn back from the brink of death. Sure, today was out of the ordinary, but once my instincts kicked in, I brought forth everything I’d learned in my years as a doctor and let intuition and experience move me forward. There was no other option--I had to save him.
However, being near Cassie is unlike anything I’ve trained for. Intuition and experience fly out of the window when it comes to her. They both tell me to get her into bed as fast as possible, but neither has met a girl like her before. She’s like my personal sugar high--a rush of endorphins that go straight to my brain. My body hardens--namely, a certain part--my pulse becomes erratic, and a giddiness I haven’t felt in more than seven years comes barreling to the forefront when she’s near me. All I want to do is touch her, hold her, put my lips on her.
Touch her . . . hold her? Who the hell am I? Ryan Gosling from The Notebook?
I don’t hold and cuddle, and I certainly don’t soothe and caress. I spend a few hours with a woman, giving and taking, mostly physical. So why the hell do I want anything different with Cassie?
As she trembled like a leaf in my arms--her normally fiery personality melting into a puddle--a fire inside of me that I’d permanently squelched ages ago rekindled. God, she felt good in my arms. I had almost lost the ability to do the right thing with the hint of coconut in her hair invading my nose and the weight of her head against my chest. When I spoke into her ear to calm her down, what I really wanted to do was kiss her. And though I haven’t felt them, I know without a doubt that her lips would be the softest, most delicious things I had ever tasted. But I knew I had to walk out of that room. I had to leave before I did something I would have regretted. No, I take that back. I had to leave before I did something she would have regretted.