He smiled at me, encouraging me to lead the conversation. “Why didn’t you correct me whenever I assumed you grew up rich?” I asked.
“Ah. I was wondering when this would come up.”
“Your mother—”
“She didn’t say anything to me, by the way, about what you two spoke about. She wouldn’t do that. That said, I know my mother. I can guess what she had to say to you.”
“Hector, I wasn’t trying to pry into your personal life. I—”
“I know. No need to apologize.” He smiled, and there was nothing but truth in his eyes, so I relaxed a bit. “But to answer your question, I didn’t think it was important.”
“It’s not, but I’ve said things, insensitive things—”
“Don’t worry. I think intent is important.” He grinned, throwing my words back at me.
“I’m afraid my intent wasn’t very virtuous. I was trying to take a jab, and I’m sorry for that. The truth is, even if you had come from money, I shouldn’t have acted that way, regardless.”
“All is forgiven.”
“Would you like to have lunch tomorrow?” I asked. I was enjoying our conversation tonight.
Hector cleared his throat. “I, um—can’t . . . I, uh, have lunch plans.”
I took a sip of my water, wishing it was wine. “Oh?”
“Andrea is in town for work. We agreed to meet over lunch.”
“I see,” I said, but my stomach twisted into knots. “That’s good. Baby steps.” I did my best to smile. Was this him whisking her away like I suggested? If it was, it was a sorry excuse for a romantic trip.
“Yeah. If I’m honest, I’m a little nervous,” he said.
“Has it been that long?”
“I haven’t seen her in over a year.”
I blinked. Over a year? I thought it had been months, not an entire year. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said and was desperate for the conversation to go anywhere else. I didn’t need to hear any details about him and Andrea together. My poor heart couldn’t take it.
Once our dinner arrived, the conversation relaxed into a more leisurely pace, allowing me to take a breath after Hector’s revelation.
“So tell me about home.”
“What about it?”
“Growing up in Oaxaca. What was it like?”
He put his fork down and leaned back in his chair. He grabbed for his glass of wine, buying time.
“It’s not something I like thinking about much. My only connection to the city is my mother, and she refuses to leave. It’s a beautiful city, and she loves it. I understand her; her family and friends are all there. But for me—I have only bad memories.”
“Forget I asked.”
“No—it’s okay. Let’s see. My father left us when I was six. Wish he had done it sooner so I wouldn’t have the vague memories I have of him. My mother struggled to support us. She had little help from my grandparents because they weren’t much better off.”
“What did she do?”
“What she knew how to do. She’s a great cook, so she put a few pesos together and started a little food stand. She sold memelas because they were cheap to make. With that, she was able to provide for us. It was a humble start, but I’m glad for it.”
“Why are you glad you grew up like that?”
“I don’t think I’d be the person I am today if I hadn’t. I know I can take myself too seriously at times, and Mom reminds me all the time that I fancy myself perfect.”
“Yeah, she might have mentioned it,” I said with a grin.
“I don’t doubt it. That attitude of mine was probably what you were picking up on when you made those assumptions about me. But if you can imagine, think about what an arrogant bastard I am now. Then imagine how much worse that would be if I had started off in life as you assumed.”
“The monstrosity,” I gasped.
He threw his head back with laughter. “Indeed.”
He was true to his word. The remainder of the meal was very polite, and no lines were crossed. I was pleased to see him not fighting me when I wanted to split the check with him. I wanted no room to interpret this dinner as anything other than a meal between colleagues.
I was taken aback when he exited the elevator on my floor.
“What are you doing? This isn’t your floor.”
“I’m walking you to your room.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. Either he was oblivious to my discomfort or intentionally ignoring it.
I opened the door to my room and turned to stretch my hand out to shake his. He looked at my hand for one beat, then two. He grabbed it, finally, but didn’t let go.
“Carolina—”
“Hector, don’t.”
“I’m trying not to.” He stepped closer to me, my hand still in his.
“You’re not doing a great job at it,” I said, my voice breathy.
“Then you know how much I’m hating this. I hate not being in control.” His voice deepened, and there was a hoarseness to it now.
I tried pulling my hand away from his grasp, but he was too strong. “Just one minute,” he pleaded. “I lose all control with you. Why do you do this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are doing it by existing.”
“We really shouldn’t—” I started to say, but I leaned into his personal space as much as he was invading mine.
“No, we shouldn’t,” he said. He closed the remaining distance between us. His hand came up to the side of my face. He pushed back a strand of my hair and carefully tucked it behind my ear. His hand then lingered on my cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of my mouth. My chest heaved when he looked at my lips; a hunger burned in his dilated pupils.
This was a moment that could change my life if I let it. It felt very much like the night that I picked him up from the bar, but it couldn’t be more different. He was sober, so there was no questioning what I found in his eyes, or what story his body told me, those muscles taut as he held himself back, his brows knitted together in pain—the pain of restraint.
We stood in the threshold of my hotel room, and he awaited the answer to the question his body was asking. He was charged like a wire, but ever the gentleman, wouldn’t step a foot in my room if I didn’t ask him to.
My body reacted to him too. How could it not? He let go of my hand and brought his second hand to the other side of my face. He was pleading now, and the skin on my arms broke into goosebumps at his touch.
I grabbed his hands and pulled them off my face. “I can’t,” I said panting.
Rejecting him wasn’t what my heart wanted, but like always, my head won over. “I want to. I really want to,” I reassured him as if the reaction in my body hadn’t already told him that. “But I can’t. There’s work to think about. I can be fired if we start anything, but I wouldn’t do that anyway. Not while you’re married, even if you are separated. And then there’s . . .”
“What?” he asked.
“Your wife, Hector. You’re going to see her tomorrow.”
“I know,” he hissed then took a step back.
“You wanted to try with her again, remember?”
His jaw was set now, and a muscle clicked over one side of his jaw. “Damn it, Carolina, I hate myself. I feel like I’m failing.”
“You aren’t failing.”
“I am. I’m failing myself, and I’m failing you. I promise I’ll try harder.”
I wanted to reach out to him, to touch him and reassure him he wasn’t failing. I wanted to ease the look of pain evident on his face, but I could only nod.
“I won’t try to touch you again. I promise.” It was the last thing he said before walking away from me. It was a vow that hurt more deeply than I could have imagined because now I knew.
Hector Medina was a man who kept his vows.
Chapter 17
Under Fire
After the closing remarks of the conf
erence, Hector and I left for the airport. Not surprisingly, he was returning on the same flight. It would be hard not to suspect this was intentional, but really, how many afternoon flights from Boston to Kansas City could there be? I let it go. There was no point in bringing it up now, not after our conversation that first night.
Hector never offered any information on the lunch with his wife or if anything came of it, and I’d be damned if I asked him, so I tried to concentrate on work. In the waiting area for our flight, I decided to check my email. I was excited to open the messages waiting in my inbox, ready to dive into work, and grateful for the distraction, but it all changed as I read them one by one.
“What’s wrong?” Hector asked, no doubt seeing the concern plain on my face.
“This can’t be right.” I scrolled to the next email and the next, but they all said the same thing.
“What is it? You’re starting to scare me.”
I placed my phone in my pocket and looked up at him. “They all said no.”
“Who? No to what?”
“My follow-up grant. The doctors at Heartland Metro, who I invited to sign on to the follow-up grant for the trial, all said no. I shared the preliminary data report to hook them in, and I pitched some ideas for what might be included in the proposal.”
“Okay . . .”
“They all said no. Every doctor I invited to participate in the next trial.” I let out a breath that shrank me like a deflated mylar balloon.
“What? All of them?”
I nodded. “Well, the physicians at the hospitals administering the current trial in California, Texas, and New York all said yes. But every doctor I contacted at Heartland Metro said no.”
“How many?”
“Six. I re-invited the four on the trial now, plus two more. I wanted to add a psychological support component to the next trial, so I invited two of our top-rated psychologists as well.”
Hector’s jaw clenched. “Those sons of bitches.”
“What could this be about, Hector? Doctors usually jump at a chance to be included in a project like this. I figured with you involved, it was an easy sell. I’d understand if one, or even two said no—especially if they were over-burdened with other projects. But all six? Something is off here.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out when we get back.”
We didn’t have the opportunity to investigate, however, because, on our first day back, I was called into Chief Stuart’s office. When I arrived, Hector was already in one of two chairs in front of the chief’s desk.
“Dr. Ramirez, please take a seat.”
“What is this about?” I asked.
“We’ll get to that,” Chief Stuart said.
“How was the conference?” he asked. “I wanted to go but couldn’t make it work with my schedule.”
He looked between Hector and me, and it wasn’t clear to whom he had directed the question. Shit, I thought. He knew we had been there together. When we didn’t respond, he smiled.
“Hector asked for the time off for the conference several months ago. When you asked, Carolina, I didn’t put two and two together.”
I nodded, and he continued. “We have a problem. I’ve been ignoring the rumors, but it’s getting harder to—”
“Chief,” Hector said, jumping in. “You have my word that the rumors are unfounded. We have done nothing that we would be ashamed of. Our relationship is purely professional.”
Well, it was mostly true.
The chief turned to me, and I winced.
“Dr. Ramirez, do you have anything to add?”
“Yes, um—” Damn it, I felt like a kid in the principal’s office, and all my confidence ran out the window. I cleared my throat. “I think the rumors stem from some professional jealousies. It hasn’t always been easy since I got the trial funded. But I view Dr. Medina as nothing other than a mentor. I respect him, and I wouldn’t dishonor his wife or their marriage by entering into any type of relationship that wasn’t professional.” And that was nothing but pure truth. I could see Hector from my peripheral vision as he turned to face me.
“Well,” said the chief, “if it were all still rumors, eventually they would die down when everyone realized they were unfounded. But now, we have a bigger problem. We’ve received an official complaint through Human Resources.”
“About me?” I asked.
“About Dr. Medina’s preferential treatment of you due to an inappropriate relationship. This is why we have a hospital policy against superiors and subordinates dating.”
“We are not dating. Who made the complaint?” I clipped.
“That is confidential,” Chief Stuart said.
“It was Keach, wasn’t it?”
“Complaints are anonymous.” The chief leaned back in his chair. “But if it was Dr. Keach, I wouldn’t be happy about it if I were you, Dr. Ramirez.” He raised an eyebrow in warning. “This competition you two have going has got to stop. I realize the fellowship is prestigious and highly competitive, but that is no reason to act out. It will only ruin your chances.”
“I am not competing with him. With all due respect, sir, all I’m trying to do is the best work I can, which I can do here or as an attending elsewhere.”
Chief Stuart looked flustered, and he straightened up in his chair. “No one is going anywhere,” he said.
Now that I was bringing in the big research dollars, Dr. Stuart couldn’t afford to lose me. He would also be hesitant to let go of the Keachs’ generous donations to the hospital. The chief had a choice to make, and I needed to make that clear.
“Things aren’t getting easier for me, Chief. This will get back to you, so you better hear it from me. Physicians are taking sides. Every doctor I invited to participate in my follow-up trial said no. That has Dr. Keach’s name written all over it. What do you have to say about that?”
“I’ll talk with them,” he said.
And I knew he would. He wouldn’t lose out on the potential of millions of dollars in research funding for a petty little man who didn’t have the chops to let his skills speak for him.
“You do that, Chief,” I spat and stormed out of his office. I couldn’t believe I had just spoken to the chief like that.
I ran to the stairwell; I needed a minute. I was great at keeping my shit together in front of the chief, but I was at a crossroads. How I handled this situation could make or break my career. It was such a delicate problem. One wrong word. One false accusation—and I could lose everything I’d worked for.
I sat in the stairwell, letting out the first tears I would ever shed on the clock during my professional career. They tasted bitter, and I resented them immediately. I wasn’t that girl—one shaken up by a boy’s club. This wasn’t me—crying in a stairwell because of some rumors.
The rumors. The rumors that were this close to ending my career. My dreams. No. I wiped the tears away and straightened my light-blue scrub top. Even if it ended here, I would succeed elsewhere.
The door to the stairwell burst open, and Hector descended the stairs toward me. I was hoping there was no redness in my eyes or nose, but when his eyes softened, I knew the traitorous signs of tears were there.
“Carolina.”
“No!” I hissed, and he stopped in his tracks. I looked up at him from several steps below. “From now on, it’s Dr. Ramirez and only Dr. Ramirez. You will not address me directly. If you need to work out schedules, have your secretary talk with my RA. If you need to discuss a patient, reach out via email. The next grant proposal we can work on via email as well—”
“Carolina—” He closed his mouth when my glare snapped up to him at the sound of my name.
“No. You will not talk with me. You will pick a seat on the opposite side of the table in conference rooms, and as far away as possible at any presentations we may be attending at the same time.”
My eyes stung when I saw him swallow hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. But I had to continue. “If you get drunk, you will get a tax
i; you will not call me. And if you see me in the hallway, do not say hello.”
He looked like I had stabbed him in the gut.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m trying to fix this. I can’t lose my career over something that isn’t even happening.”
He nodded.
And he followed my every order faithfully.
For two years.
The longest two years of my life.
Two Years Later
Chapter 18
Results Are In
“You know they’re calling you ‘Flash,’ right?” Mandy said as she tried to catch up to me.
“What?”
“You need to slow down—”
“Can’t. I’ve had a long shift, and I have to finish charting before I can catch a little shuteye—”
“Carolina!” Mandy snapped, and I halted at her tone.
“What?”
“Here.” She pushed a tablet toward me. “You haven’t checked your email today.”
“I’ll do it later—”
“No. Trust me. You’ll do it now.”
I took the tablet again, this time willingly. I let out a breath. I was so tired, and all I wanted to do was go home. But then I saw the email she had already opened for me. It was the statistical report to phase two of my trial that concluded year three. I read and reread the summary in the body of the email. I looked up at her.
“This can’t be right.”
“It is!” Mandy clasped her hands and bounced in front of me.
I shook my head. I must have read wrong. I read the email a third, then a fourth time. No. I hadn’t read wrong. My breath was coming in shorter, more rapid bursts. My pulse quickened in excitement as I realized what these results could mean. When I met Mandy’s gaze once more, she was smiling ear-to-ear, and her eyes were a little misty.
“Thanks, Mandy,” I said in a near whisper, and I broke into a soft jog.
I had to tell him. He had to know.
Over the last two years, we never saw each other again outside the hospital. No more lunches together or meetings in his office. But now I didn’t care. I had to share this excitement with him. Even if the rumors had mostly died down. Even if I had regained the trust of my colleagues and mentors. It didn’t matter. This was a mutual success. He deserved his due credit.
Remission Page 14