by Tina Beckett
Well, this was a high-profile case. It probably had nothing to do with her at all. He probably had to be there for the ones who could line the clinic’s pockets. She immediately pulled herself up for the thought. Because the clinic was supporting Saint Victoria Hospital in a very real way. It was why her uncle was able to receive his treatments, probably at minimal or no cost.
“Are they running late?” she asked.
The patient wasn’t in the room yet, but this was the time that Nate had given her when he last saw her. Actually that was the morning she’d slept in his office after being floored by her uncle’s presence at the hospital.
And looking back, she couldn’t understand why she’d let herself do that. If it had been any other doctor at this hospital or at hers, she wouldn’t have. Would have forced herself to wake up and get a grip on her emotions. Was she letting her guard down around Nate without realizing it?
Oh, she hoped not.
“Yes, a few minutes. Frank wanted to go over the procedure with Merriam and her husband one last time before she went under sedation.”
“I can’t blame him. Any patient would be lucky to have him. He’s incredibly thorough.”
Nate stiffened beside her. “Yes. He is.”
There was something about the way he said that, almost as if there was something wrong with that observation. But what?
“I don’t know him personally, but he’s a very good doctor, from what you’ve said.”
He settled back in his chair again. What on earth?
“He’s got a good plan for this patient.”
Just then the doors opened and in came a gurney. It was wheeled over to where the surgical team was assembling. Various people spoke to the patient who nodded, then a nurse moved to set up the drips.
“Will Frank be in before she’s under?”
“You seem to have gotten the hang of calling everyone by their first names. Even those you don’t know very well.”
Touché. But then again, she hadn’t liked Nate very much when he’d first asked her to use his.
And now? She swallowed. Well, now she might like him just a little too much. That, in and of itself, should send alarm bells pealing in her head. But there was nothing in there but the periodic chirp of a cricket. And a low hum of awareness.
This man had seen her at her most vulnerable. She should be a ball of nerves even sitting beside him. Instead, along with awareness, there was this subtle undercurrent of excitement. Anticipation. A woozy sense of euphoria, even.
But why? If she was hoping to repeat that scene in the ocean, she could forget it. That was not happening. They’d both made that promise. And yet this man had a way of getting under her skin and making her do unexpected things.
Just like Austin had?
She hoped not. That had been a huge disaster. This might even be a bigger one, seeing as they had to work together. Seeing as her mother was almost heading up his gala single-handedly. And seeing as she might have the gene for amyloidosis.
Her heart squeezed in her chest. Sasha needed to be careful. More than careful. If not, she could mess this up for a lot of people, including her mom. Including herself.
“Well, you kind of insisted I call you by your first name. I just assumed that went for everyone that worked here.”
“You’re right. It does.”
But there was still something in his tone that worried her. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” He nodded at the scene in front of them, where Frank had just come into the room. “There he is now.”
Within minutes the patient was under general anesthesia, and they had a couple of work drapes set up. One at Merriam’s hip area and one at her cheek. “Will he do the bone graft first?”
“Yes, he’ll kind of have to, since he needs to set up the scaffolding on which to rebuild her cheek. They’ll take a sliver of bone from her hip and set it in place. The bone should build density as it heals. Then they’ll add muscle and a layer of fat tissue. Finally, they’ll harvest skin from the same area they’re taking the bone from, since the skin there is often a similar texture to what is on the face. They’ll turn it into a mesh that they’ll lay in place.” He glanced at her. “There will be several revision surgeries to minimize any scarring and make sure the tissue is covering the way it should. There are always cheek implants that can help with that, as well.”
Sasha was a surgeon, so knew a lot of the mechanics, but this was microsurgery. There were nerves and fine work that she didn’t need to worry about. Yes, she tried to be aware of scarring when she stitched someone up, but her first concern was function. Aesthetics came second to that. And if it was something delicate, like a lip margin that had been sliced through, she normally called in a plastic surgeon just to make sure things were lined up the way they should be.
A shiver went over her. If only people worked like that. If only they could be lined up so they matched perfectly, so that just the right couples found each other. But that wasn’t how things were in the real world. Relationships were messy and ugly and sometimes they were treacherous. And sometimes you never found the right person with whom to share your life. Or circumstances prevented it from becoming a reality.
Except... She was very aware of Nate beside her. Aware of his breathing, his movements, his posture. He was now leaning forward, elbows planted on his knees, fingers steepled as he watched what was happening below.
There was no doubt the man was gorgeous—he probably had women swarming around him. He had good looks and far too much charisma. And his physical features were put together in just the right way.
Ha! Kind of like what Frank was trying to accomplish in the surgery happening below.
And the way Nate made love...
Her eyes closed for a second as a wave of remembered sensation went over her. The water on her body, his warm hands stroking over her.
She sucked down a quick breath and sat up as emotions from that day threatened to pull her under.
“Everything okay?”
God, no, it wasn’t. But she didn’t know how to turn off the scenes playing in her head.
“Yes, fine.” She stared straight ahead. “W-what’s he doing now?”
“He’s remodeling the remainder of bone in the cheek so he can fit what he’s harvested in there.”
She knew what the surgeon was doing, but it was the only thing she could think of to say that would force back the tide in her skull. Did Nate ever think about that day? Or had he been able to just sweep it away and forget about those tiny moments that went into what had happened between them?
Moments like laughing at the wave that had swept over them on the beach. Moments like handing her the paper bag that held her underwear.
Oh, what a mess she’d made by having sex with him.
And there was no way to undo it. Just like there’d been no way to undo what had happened with Austin.
All she could do was push through it and move on to the next chapter of her life.
Except all those chapters contained Nate in some way, shape or form, unless he decided to leave his position at The Island Clinic. And she didn’t see that happening. He loved it here.
So she forced her attention back down to what was happening in the room beneath them. Frank was moving from one step to another, his hands steady. She couldn’t see his face, but she imagined it was just as calm and methodical as his fingers.
If only Sasha could be the same. Maybe she could though. She could move through these next days, these next months with methodical deliberation. She would walk with her uncle through his treatments, wait on her own diagnosis. And do her best to enjoy life. Enjoy her job. Even enjoy these moments next to Nate. Because life sped on by no matter what came your way. You couldn’t go back and redo any of it.
So make the best of it.
And if she made the mistake of sleeping
with Nate again?
Well, mistake or not, life would move on down the road, right? She wouldn’t be stuck in those moments forever. So she should enjoy them while she could.
Nate’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at the readout and frowned. Dragged a hand through his hair. When he looked her way, Sasha was careful to act like her attention had been on the surgery below.
“I need to go outside and deal with this. I should be back soon.”
“Okay.”
If it was anything to do with her uncle he would have told her, right? So apart from that, it was none of her business who was calling him. Probably something about the gala.
Or maybe it was a woman. Someone else he’d been with.
He left the room and Sasha forced her mind off the disturbing thought of Nate having a girlfriend and back toward what was happening below. She could hear Frank’s voice as he called out for instruments or spoke a summary that would mark part of the official transcripts of the surgery. From what she could make out, all was going according to plan.
Nate was back within five minutes. The frown was still there.
“Is everything okay?”
He dropped back into his seat. “I’m not sure.”
How could you not be sure everything was okay? “Anything I can help with?”
“Not unless you know of a magical way to deal with relatives.”
She forced her eyes to go wide. “You have met my mom, right?”
“I’d take a thousand of your moms over dealing with my parents.”
His parents! Not some woman waiting in the wings.
Nate had said his parents had never visited the clinic. Had all but said that they weren’t proud of what he’d done. “Was that them on the phone?”
“Yes, Frank mentioned he’d called my father to consult with him on Merriam’s surgery.”
That surprised her. “I thought they weren’t interested in The Island Clinic?”
“They’re not. Unless they can get something out of it.”
He made them sound pretty awful. “Was the phone call about the surgery?”
“Actually no. It was about the gala. They’ve decided to come to it. Out of the blue.”
Maybe people could change.
“That’s great.” She looked at his face and reconsidered. “Isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure.” He rubbed his palm down his face. “I don’t know what their angle is yet.”
“Maybe there’s not one. Maybe they realized they needed to make amends.”
“I don’t think that’s even possible at this point. There’s too much water under that particular bridge.”
“But why? Do you want to talk about it?”
He stared straight ahead for several long moments. Either he hadn’t heard the question, or he’d decided to ignore it. So she pretended she’d never posed the question.
Then Nate turned toward her. “Actually, I think I would. Do you want to grab a coffee, or would you rather stay here until the surgery is completed?”
She glanced down where the operation was still going strong. “I think they’re going to be there for a while.” Frank was still working on the bone graft. She imagined this could take close to eight or ten hours. “So we can go and always come back if there’s time.”
There was a relief on Nate’s face she’d never seen there before. All of a sudden, she was glad she was there. Glad he was willing to confide in her—or at least tell her about whatever was bothering him.
They stood and Nate opened the door for her, and together they headed down the hallway toward the cafeteria.
CHAPTER TEN
NATE WASN’T SURE why he’d told Sasha he wanted to talk about his parents, but he did want to. Maybe because she was from Saint Victoria Hospital and he wouldn’t have to face her day in and day out, like he would Frank or his other colleagues. Or maybe it was because she’d shared stuff about herself that he was pretty sure not everyone knew.
They went into the coffee shop and found a quiet corner and sat down. “What would you like?”
“A cappuccino, if they have it.”
“They do.”
Her brows went up. “I figured they did.”
He thought there might be an undercurrent there, but if there was, she was hiding it pretty well. Maybe she was just being polite back in the observation room. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than seeing her eyes glaze in boredom as he spilled out the sordid details of the rift between him and his parents. “Listen, don’t feel like you have to sit here and listen to—”
“I’m the one who offered.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Go get our coffees. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He turned to go, the words she’d just said sliding over him. I’ll be here when you get back.
Did she know how that sounded? Whether she did or not, he wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotion that washed over him at the words. He went up and stood in line, mulling over what it would be like for someone like Sasha to be there for you, no matter what. To never have to wonder if she was telling the truth. To never have to wonder if she was sizing up what you could do for her.
To just be there...for you.
He liked it. Liked the idea of someone being there when you got home. Of someone being there to hear about your day and to tell you about theirs.
But unfortunately that wasn’t in the cards for him.
Or was it?
He glanced back at where Sasha sat, and found her watching him, her beautiful face soft and accessible.
Hell. What if that “someone” was... Sasha?
His mind went to hell all of a sudden, various parts of his brain going to war with the other parts. Maybe it was just the fact that she was willing to listen. Once he told her about his parents, he would likely change the dynamic between them. Did he want her to feel sorry for him? Hell no. That was the last thing he wanted.
So he would just tell her and go from there.
He ordered their coffees and when they were ready he threw some packets of sugar and sweetener on the tray before carrying it back to the table. “I wasn’t sure what you took in yours.”
Picking up two of the yellow packets, she ripped them open and hesitated as she looked at her coffee. “I always hate messing up the pictures they draw with the frothed milk.”
There was a heart with what looked like an arrow going through it. He stiffened. Had the barista done it on purpose? Nate had had coffee in here with various other people, but he didn’t think he’d ever brought anyone who was more than just a colleague in here.
“I’m sure they’re used to it.”
Sasha dumped the packets in. “I’m sure they are, but it still seems sad.” She stirred, removing all traces of the image. Just as well, because he was starting to get some very strange thoughts going through his head.
He took a sip of his espresso, very glad there was no room for pictures or anything else in the tiny demitasse cup. Just solid black liquid. He glanced at her. “How is it?”
“Perfect.” She smiled and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, her cup cradled between her hands. She was lithe and beautiful and her attention focused solely on him. “So. Tell me why you don’t want your parents to come to the gala.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t say it outright, but it was there in your body language. Or am I wrong.”
Oh, she wasn’t wrong. But it was a little disconcerting that she could read him so well. Could everyone else? He’d always considered himself a pretty tough nut to crack. The people who’d tried normally pulled back pretty quickly when they realized he wasn’t interested in cozy little tête-à-têtes about his personal life. Stuff about the clinic? Fine, he welcomed that all day long. But his relationships were off-limits. To everyone.
Until now.
“You’re not wrong,” he said.
“But why? They’re your parents.”
“They are, but we haven’t spoken in years. Since I came back from my tour with Medicine Around the World.”
She took a sip of her coffee, licking off a tiny fleck of cream that stuck to her lip. His stomach twisted when her tongue darted back into her mouth. He remembered the slide of her tongue against his as they kissed in the sea.
“Was that after Hurricane Regan, when you came to Saint Victoria?”
“It was. I arrived home to a press release and a ribbon-cutting ceremony at my parents’ clinic.”
She blinked, and he couldn’t blame her confusion.
“Before you ask, the problem wasn’t the ribbon cutting. The problem was, I was expected to specialize in plastic surgery and join their practice. And they announced it without consulting me. There were photographers and reporters, and cameras were flashing and...”
“And you were in shock.” She reached across the table. “Oh, God. That was after Marie...”
“Yes. I found out what the diagnosis was just before boarding the flight. I had the doll in my hand.”
A jumble of tangled emotions went through him as he remembered the horror of that sight. Of his parents’ and Tara’s wide smiles as they handed him a glass of champagne. One he took, still not understanding exactly what was happening. He set the doll on a table beside him, only to have his mom pick it up and look at it, an expression of utter disgust coming into her face, and make a nasty comment.
He’d taken the doll from her and set his glass on the table. As photographers continued to snap their pictures he turned to them and caught sight of the plaque on the wall.
No, he’d said. And he turned and walked away from the clinic, catching a cab and taking it back to his apartment.
“They evidently didn’t take it well when you told them you were planning on coming back here instead of joining their practice.”
He gave a rough laugh. “You could say that. They called me, accused me of being selfish and insensitive. Of embarrassing them in front of everyone. Said that if I went through with coming to Saint Victoria, I was no longer welcome in their home.”