Dr. Medina caught me grinning like an idiot as we walked into the hallway. He rolled his eyes. “Stop,” he said sternly.
“Stop what?”
“You know what.”
“You must get that a lot, Doctor,” I said, batting my eyelashes just as Valentina had. His eyes narrowed. I only stopped when I noticed the set of his jaw, and I wondered if he was too stiff and serious for a bit of joking banter. I checked myself and schooled my face back to its professional side.
“I apologize, Doctor. I forgot myself. If it makes you feel any better, that’s the first time I’ve seen Valentina smile in weeks. Her spirits have been really low. With all due respect, if interacting with you will help her emotionally, I’m willing to sacrifice your dignity a bit to her whims. On the whole, she’s harmless.”
“I feel used, Dr. Ramirez,” he said before turning to walk away from me. He shook his head all the way down the hallway, but I could swear, even by just looking at the back of his head, that he was snickering.
I didn’t see him again until late that evening. I’d finished all the work I needed to with my patients, and now all that was left was to chart on my last three consults of the day. I grabbed my laptop, deciding to chart from the doctors’ lounge where I could relax a bit. I hadn’t gotten a chance to eat during my shift, so I grabbed a Twix bar from the vending machine and set it next to my laptop on the table. The details I was charting swallowed me for nearly an hour, which meant I forgot about the chocolate. That was incredibly slow charting, but I wasn’t merely charting. I was analyzing every aspect of their disease: its presentation, treatment, and outcomes so far. I was scanning for clues. Anything that would help me beat this bastard called cancer.
The door swung open, and Dr. Medina walked in and settled in one of the sofa chairs. He didn’t notice me at first.
“Hello,” I said. “How’s your first day going?”
He turned to me, startled to find me sitting in the corner. “It’s technically my second day.”
“Okay, how’s your second day going?”
“All right. Nothing special.” He walked over to the table and sat across from me.
For some reason, that comment stung a little. He smirked, and I realized he was teasing me.
“What is this?” He picked up the Twix bar.
“Dinner.”
“Dinner? This isn’t food, let alone dinner.”
“Don’t judge.” I snatched the chocolate from his grip. I opened it and grabbed one of the two chocolate bars inside. As if to prove my point, I took a healthy bite. My eyes rolled back, and I moaned with pleasure. A thin strand of caramel fell to my lower lip, and I licked it off once I swallowed the bite. I opened my eyes to a stunned Dr. Medina. His mouth was parted, and he cleared his throat after a moment.
Then it hit me. I realized what he must have seen. He didn’t know that was my standard response to chocolate. He probably thought I was still flirting with him and probably not in the joking way I had earlier after our visit with Valentina. I was about to apologize and further stick my foot in my mouth, but he beat me to it, breaking the awkward moment.
He reached for the other half of my chocolate. “I think I will try it after all—”
I snatched it away before he could. “You can’t come in here judging my snack, insulting chocolate no less, and then ask for some.”
“You do know I’m your boss, right?”
“And being my boss while forcing me to give up half my dinner is an abuse of power.”
He opened his mouth to speak when the door burst open. Sara marched in with murder in her eyes. Shit. What had I done now?
“Carolina. Isabel. Ramirez. Fuentes,” Sara huffed. She stood directly in front of me, both hands on her hips as she glared me down. She had long ago picked up Dad’s trick of letting me know precisely how furious she was.
My full name. Double shit. “Chocolate?” I offered with a grin.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whined.
Dr. Medina jumped in. “I’m sorry, this is the doctors’ lounge, maybe you should—”
Sara brought her hand up to his face silencing him, and I cringed. “Do you enjoy changing your own patients’ bedpans, Doctor?”
“Is she talking to me?” he asked, perplexed because Sara’s glare never left me.
“Yep. I think so.”
He gulped. “My apologies, Sara. Won’t happen again.”
It didn’t escape me that he had learned her name.
“You are new here, so I’ll let it slide. This time.”
“What’s this about, Sara?” I asked.
“Your dad just texted me. You didn’t invite me to the cookout.”
“I’m not going to the cookout,” I hissed.
“Yes, you are. I just paid off a resident to cover for you.”
“Sara, you didn’t!”
“I did. And you are going.”
I slumped back in my chair, crossing my arms. This woman was giving me a headache. “I hate my birthday, Sara. You know that.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for your dad and anyone else who loves you. Don’t be so selfish.”
“Selfish? It’s my birthday.”
“It’s settled, missy. We have a bigger problem.”
I groaned. By this point, I had wholly forgotten Dr. Medina was witness to this embarrassing exchange.
“It’s Valentina,” she said. I moved to stand, but Sara gestured me down to my chair. “She’s okay. But it’s time.”
“Time?”
“I was brushing her hair tonight, and—”
“Oh,” I said. My eyes watered. Valentina wasn’t vain, but her hair was so beautiful. I was sure she would mourn the loss.
“She’s having a bad night. I wouldn’t go see her now. She wants to be alone. Let her cry. Tomorrow, we’ll take care of it.”
I nodded.
“How do you want to handle this?” Sara asked.
“Mary.”
“You want to pull a Mary?”
“Yeah, I have the morning off. I’ll do the shopping, and I’ll meet you in her room at noon.”
“I’ll bring the equipment,” Sara said. “And I will take the chocolate, thank you.” She grabbed the wrapper on the table with half my dinner and walked away. She waved at us with the chocolate. “We’re still having drinks at ten,” were her final parting words.
“Sorry about her,” I said. “She’s a bit—”
“Shameless?” Hector asked.
I laughed, even as a tear escaped my eye. I wiped it away quickly as if nothing had happened. “Yeah, that’s the best way to describe Sara. Shameless. You’ll get used to it. The sooner you learn she runs this place—and we’d be lost without her—the easier your job will be,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.” I shifted in my chair.
“Never apologize for caring about your patients,” he said softly.
“No, I know. I’m apologizing for crying. It’s why so many people can’t take women doctors seriously.”
“No,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t carry that weight on your shoulders. Any man who thinks that way is a piece of shit. I’ve cried for patients before. I’m not ashamed of it. I’m human. Some of them just get under our skin. It doesn’t make us bad doctors. It makes us better ones.”
He left then, understanding I needed a moment and giving me what I needed—my privacy. Even though what he said was true, the idea was so ingrained in me that I couldn’t bear to cry in front of my boss.
Chapter 5
La Oficina
I was well on my way to becoming an alcoholic, and I had precisely zero shame about it. The job could be so rewarding, but it could also suck your soul straight out of your body and shred it to pieces. I downed a tequila shot, wondering how in the hell I was supposed to go into Valentina’s room tomorrow. Yes, I was her doctor, and I was fighting for her life almost as hard as she was, but I just kept taking from her. I’d taken her autonomy, her pleasure, heck, her
normal. Tomorrow, I would have to go in there and try to cheer her up as I took her hair.
She would not be the first one. I’d had many patients just like her, and many much worse. But Dr. Handsome’s words swam in my head. Some of them just get under our skin. Yes, they did.
I tapped the tiny glass on the bar. “Barkeep! Another!”
Sofia walked over to me, shaking her head. “Slow it down there, Doctor,” she said. “Sara isn’t even here yet, and you don’t want to outpace her. She’ll never forgive you.” Sofia grinned at me with those incredibly full lips of hers. If I swung that way, I would so dream about kissing her all day.
She wasn’t just the friendly neighborhood bartender. Sofia was one of my closest friends. Sara and I drank for cheap, and sometimes free, ever since I stitched up Sofia’s hand at no charge when she cut herself cleaning up a broken glass. We’d been friends ever since.
“You’re probably right, but at this moment, I’m the one mad at her, so I don’t give a rat’s ass—”
“Okay, okay,” said Sofia. “Who the hell am I?”
“And top shelf, darling. Something at the very least reposado,” I said. Sofia never broke eye contact as she filled the shot glass to the rim. “Has anyone ever told you that you are like a dark angel? I envision your wings covered with raven-black feathers that match your hair.”
“Are you already drunk? After your first drink?” Sofia asked only half-kidding.
“No. Bad day. I’m trying to distract myself. Just being silly.”
The second shot, I savored. I’d never down good tequila without savoring it. I smiled as the silky liquid hit my stomach, sending the tiniest heat wave through my body.
“You know—”
I heard his voice, and I turned to face him.
“They say a woman who can drink tequila without making a face comes from hell.”
Had he been there the entire time? And why was he everywhere? I laughed at his statement. “The person who said that never had good quality tequila. Also, they were sexist.”
“Drinking all alone?”
“No. I have friends.”
“The bartender doesn’t count.”
Sofia jumped to my defense. “Normally I’d agree with you, but this is one of those rare exceptions. Caro here is my girl.”
I laughed because Sofia said it so motherly, so protective of me, and it warmed my insides almost as much as the tequila had.
“Stand down, love,” I said to her. “We must be nice to him. He’s my boss, don’t you know?”
I brought up my glass and clinked it to his. “Cheers.”
Sofia pursed her lips, then reached her hand out to him. “In that case, welcome to La Oficina. I’m Sofia.”
He shook her hand. “Hector.”
I snorted and nearly spat my drink. “Hector?”
“Yes. That’s my name.”
“I’m sorry. I just assumed you introduced yourself to everyone as Dr. Medina.”
“Dr. Medina?” Sofia asked with interest. “Isn’t he the one you—” She stopped herself when she saw the daggers I was shooting her with my eyes. “I have some inventory I have to do in the back. Help yourself if you need anything else, Caro.”
Dr. Medina stared at me. “We are not at work. Why would I introduce myself by my professional title?”
I shrugged. “I guess I just assumed—”
“Has it ever occurred to you, Carolina, that you make a lot of assumptions about me?” He grabbed his drink and walked to another table, leaving me stunned. That was the first time I’d heard my given name on his lips, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I wanted to keep all my interactions with him professional. I wanted him to mentor me and work with me on my research, our research, but every time we were together, the universe played sick jokes on me, giving me foot-in-mouth disease.
I walked around the bar and poured two more shots of the most expensive tequila I could find. Sofia thankfully walked back out to chat with me, and in time, I completely forgot Dr. Medina was even in the room.
One hour into my drinks, I got a text from Sara.
Sara: Please don’t kill me. I can’t make it tonight. I love you forever. Kiss emoji.
“Let me guess,” Sofia asked as she carried out a case of beer. “She can’t make it?”
“Nope. One guess why.”
“Don’t go there, Caro. She’s a grown woman.”
“I know she is, but he is such a piece of shit. Why can’t she see she deserves so much better?”
“Give her time. She needs to see for herself what a piece of shit he is. The more we tell her to dump his ass, the more she will withdraw from us. And when this blows up in her face, she will need her friends. We can’t alienate her right now, no matter how much it kills us to not say anything.”
I told her what I’ve told her a million times before. “You sure you aren’t a clinical psychologist?”
Sofia laughed. “All bartenders are psychologists. Occupational hazard.”
“I’m heading out. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
I leaned over the bar and gave her a peck on the lips because I could never resist it. She smiled back at me. “Stay safe.”
“I will.”
I was grabbing my purse when I saw him again and remembered he was there. Dr. Medina was cleaning some of the drink that had spilled on his shirt, and I rolled my eyes. Poor guy couldn’t handle a simple peck on the lips by two women. This, ladies and gentlemen, was the man I chose to follow blindly into my career. I shook my head in disbelief and walked out of the bar.
I searched for the car service app on my phone. I’d hit my self-imposed three-drink limit, so even though I felt mostly sober, three drinks were too many to drive. Sofia didn’t even ask, because she knew me well enough, but given how quickly Hector, I mean, Dr. Medina, found himself outside with me, he clearly didn’t trust that I wouldn’t drive. He grabbed my arm above my elbow and started leading me away from the bar.
“I’m driving you home.”
“No, you are not.”
“Yes, I am. You’ve drunk too much.”
“I know.” I searched his eyes. “I’m not driving. See?” I showed him my phone and the app I was scrolling through when he found me. He sighed, and his features softened.
“Good. I’m glad you weren’t going to drive. But I’d still like to drive you home.”
“It’s really not necessary.”
“You would really rather pay for a car service than take a free ride?”
He had a point. I relented and let him lead me to his car. I was surprised to find he didn’t drive a ridiculously expensive sports car like most doctors of his status. The newer model Honda sedan was discreet and unassuming.
We spent the first part of the ride to my apartment in silence, and oddly, it felt comfortable. Halfway there, he said, “I liked that bar.”
“The bar or Sofia?”
“Why would you say that?”
I shrugged. “Every man who meets Sofia falls head-over-heels in love with her. I couldn’t blame you if you did. It’s almost inevitable. Hell, I’m completely straight, and I’m half in love with her.”
He side-eyed me. “No. Not Sofia. She was nice, but I like the bar. The name is . . . interesting.”
“La Oficina? Yeah. It was great when it first opened. We could always just say, ‘hey, meet you at the office,’ and anyone would think we meant we were working. The city smartened up, though, and now it has backfired.”
“Backfired?” he asked.
“Yeah, now everyone knows about the bar named the office, so you have to be careful. If you say you’re meeting someone at the office, people can assume—”
“Got it. So, meet you at work is the accepted vernacular.”
“Correct.”
“This is a strange city.”
“Your first time in Kansas City?”
He nodded. Even though I told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted on walking me to the door of my a
partment building.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to—”
“Good night, Carolina.”
The temptation to search for him online had never won me over. Not even when I was a teenager and a devout disciple of his work. It had always, always been about the work, about the magic of his brain, never about the man himself. To me, he had only been a brain—a disembodied organ innovating genius advancements in medicine, improving cancer treatments for all patients. Back then, I knew, just knew it in my gut, that he would have saved her if he had been her doctor.
But now I had met him. The man, not just the words he typed onto a keyboard hundreds of miles from where I stood. He was also now my boss, and knowledge about him could only serve to help me in my professional relationship with him. Tell yourself whatever you need to do the deed, Carolina.
I got ready for bed and curled up with my tablet.
Surprisingly, there was quite a bit of information about him, probably because of his wife. Andrea Medina. According to the search engine, she was the daughter of a prominent philanthropist. They attended many of his fundraiser events in Maryland, where they lived, and in New York and Washington.
I found a picture of them at a charity event for children’s cancer research. She was leaning into him, her whole body pointing to him, and wearing a wide smile that spread to her eyes. He had his arm around her waist, and his head was bent as though she was whispering something in his ear. She was gorgeous. I had to admit it. She was a tall, slim, leggy, blonde with beautiful green eyes and delicate features.
He certainly had a type, so I didn’t have to continue to feel awkward around him. I’d barely admit it to myself, but there was the tiniest bit of a barely-there crush somewhere in a dusty corner of my heart. But knowing it would never be reciprocated actually made me feel better about working with him and seeing him day in and day out.
Then I saw it, and my jaw dropped—a picture of them holding hands walking in New York City. He held one of her hands, and she grabbed her enormous pregnant belly under a beautiful blue sundress with the other. They both looked incandescently happy. I smiled at the picture of them, hoping my future held that kind of love.
Remission Page 4