Dr. OB (St. Luke's Docuseries Book 1)

by Max Monroe

  But, justified or not, I couldn’t ignore these feelings.

  It felt like Eli all over again. Cavalier and brushing things off that should have been talked about and discussed.

  Will should have given me a heads-up. He should have told me.

  But he didn’t.

  I tried to take a deep breath and think for a minute. I didn’t think he was out cheating on me.

  But I was upset.

  This felt exactly like the bullshit my ex used to put me through.

  The second I’d made the decision to end things with Eli, I promised myself that I would avoid getting involved with men who were careless with my feelings.

  God, what if this was why he didn’t want to tell the people in the office? What if I really was just another work fling, one in a line of flings he’d been having for ages?

  Maybe he’d actually done me a favor. I would have looked like a fucking fool in public. Now, I only had to feel like a fool on the inside.

  Like a moth to a flame, my brain sprinted toward the irrational need of dissecting every single moment that had ever occurred between Will and me. Have I missed something along the lines, here? Some kind of red flag? Within seconds, my mind pulled a memory out of storage and pushed it before my eyes. It was Will and me, in the office, inside of an empty patient room and seconds away from having sex.

  “What? There are perks to doing this here,” he’d said through a laugh and with a condom held between his fingertips.

  The way he’d joked about it, having sex while he was at work, had taken me by surprise and stunned me silent. Immediately, he’d noticed, though, and answered my unspoken question of “Have you ever done this at work?” with, “Never.”

  He had looked me directly in the eyes and said Never.

  And yet here I sat, listening to Emily moan at the work of his above average penis.

  Goddammit. He’d lied to me.

  Instantly, my body revolted at the thought. My stomach clenched, my heart ached, and my eyes filled with tears.

  Why couldn’t he be honest with me?

  It was truly amazing how an answer compiled of five letters could fill your head with doubts and instantly caused you to question your trust in someone.

  Fucking hell, I hated the way it made me feel. I was wrong—this wasn’t like my relationship with Eli. It was a million times worse.

  Right then, in that moment, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I didn’t want to be in his apartment when he got home tonight, and I didn’t want to have a long, exhausting conversation where he did his best to resolve the situation and I took the blame on myself in order to make it happen. I just…wanted to be anywhere else but with Will.

  I hopped off the couch, tossed my scrub pants and shoes back on, grabbed my shit and headed out the door. And since I couldn’t go home to Bill and Janet’s, five minutes later, I was in a cab heading toward the Hyatt Regency.

  Once I checked in to my room, I sent Will a quick text letting him know I wouldn’t be there tonight, and I turned off my phone.

  Me: Janet called. Needs my help. I won’t be there tonight.

  The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Fuck Will and his fucking pancakes.

  The subway was a little more crowded than usual as I rode home from my board meeting that night. I’d have said I was excited to see Melody, but I’d gotten a succinct text message from her during the meeting, and by the time I got out, she hadn’t answered any of my calls.

  And after I’d sent her a text that said, If you don’t at least send me a message and let me know everything is okay, you can’t get pissed at me for showing up to Bill and Janet’s unannounced… ☺, she’d sent back a quick, Everything is okay. See ya tomorrow at work.

  Her short response left me feeling unnerved, like something was going on, but I tried to not read into it. I knew Janet could be a little trying sometimes, especially if it had to do with some sort of Jazzercise emergency.

  So, after approaching the board tonight with my idea for the clinic and having them turn me down due to lack of funding, I set my focus to moving on to Plan B.

  Group messages with Kline, Thatch, and Wes weren’t my normal MO, but if I was going to get them all in one place quickly, I figured this was my best chance. A phone call would open all of that air space up for too much bullshit and trash-talking.

  Me: I need a meeting.

  Thatch: Like, AA? Are you on the booze, William?

  Christ. So much for cutting through the bullshit.

  Me: No, Thatch. I’m not on the booze. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t go spreading that around the medical community.

  Thatch: I wouldn’t worry too much about me ruining your rep, bro. I’m not into torpedoing already sinking ships.

  Me: Fuck you.

  Thatch: Aw, I love you too.

  Kline: Maybe he means a psychologist. He did have all of that emotional trauma from watching his parents bang growing up.

  Me: You too? Are there any adults in this message?

  Wes: I haven’t said anything.

  Me: You’re my new favorite, Wes.

  Wes: I mean…I was thinking it. I just didn’t say it.

  Me: Screw you guys.

  Kline: A meeting you say?

  Me: Yes. With the three of you.

  Thatch: I thought you hated us?

  Me: I could be persuaded to change my mind…with a meeting.

  Kline: I’m free tomorrow morning.

  Wes: So am I. And I’m in the city tomorrow.

  Me: Thatch?

  …

  Me: Thatch…

  Kline: You know what he wants. Just do it.

  Me: Sigh. I love you, mighty Thatch warrior. Your seed is the strongest in the land.

  Wes: You must really want this meeting.

  Thatch: My office, 8 a.m., fools. Cassie and I have a lunch bang that I don’t want to be late for.

  Ignoring his propensity for oversharing and refusing to engage, I left them with a simple agreement and backed out of the message.

  Me: See you then.

  Scrolling through my contacts to Melody’s number, I hit send and listened as the call rolled to voice mail one more time.

  Frustration creased the corners of my eyes, and I rested my head on the wall behind me. Her lack of response had the irrational side of my brain threatening to go haywire. Over the past few weeks, I’d found that even a single night without Melody lying beside me messed up my sleep pattern.

  I wanted her here, with me, and quite frankly, I wanted it every night.

  I have to convince her to move in with me. Another fight for another day, I mused.

  But for now, after a long day, I wanted nothing more than to sink myself into Melody and fall fast asleep, but thanks to her disappearing act, the latter would have to do.

  I’d had three late nights this week with work, and two more provided by the aforementioned naked-time with Melody, and as a result, I was fucking exhausted.

  I could barely keep myself awake as the lull of the train rocked back and forth while it screamed through the darkened tunnels of the New York City tracks. Light flashing like a kaleidoscope made me open my eyes just as we pulled into my station.

  Up and off, I moved with the crowd, weaving my way up the steps and down the quiet block to my apartment.

  It felt different as I climbed the steps and walked into the noticeably empty space. So different that I paused and looked around for a moment, spinning in a circle. Nothing seemed out of place, but something still felt off.

  She isn’t here, my mind whispered.

  I chuckled softly to myself and shook my head over the fact that Melody Marco had burrowed herself under my skin and into my heart so deep that coming home to a Melody-less apartment didn’t feel right.

  With the motivation of making the Melody-less night go faster and catch some much-needed sleep, I moved toward my bedroom, shucking out of my clothes as I walked
, and eventually, fatigue took its toll and I fell face first into my bed, passing out straightaway.

  “Good morning, my poppet,” Thatch greeted as I strode through the door to his office and took a seat next to Wes and Kline in the chairs of the little mini conference table he had set up in one corner. I’d managed a shower, clean clothes, and one hopeful tongue depressor in my pocket before stepping out the door.

  Your tonsils are almost as big as your heart.

  I was hoping it conveyed what I wanted it to. But I had to get what I wanted out of this meeting first.

  I gestured halfheartedly and sank into the leather like I was melting.

  “You look tired,” Kline remarked.

  I waved him off, but I was. I was fucking exhausted and pissed that apparently my body wasn’t built for sleeping on its own anymore. My brain was still having a hard time comprehending why I felt like my world had been turned upside down. “It was a weird night.”

  Kline nodded, considering me carefully in a way that only he could. He was the master of reading people, but if he could figure out what was going on with me—when I couldn’t even really figure it out myself—he could have at it.

  “So why did you want to meet with us?” Wes asked, getting down to business. I was grateful.

  Straightening in my chair, I did my best to perk up and make my pitch sound at least slightly marketable.

  “I want to talk to the three of you about an investment opportunity.”

  “Ooh,” Thatch said. “Money. I like money. Especially since my wife just spent two hundred and fifty fucking grand at an auction buying titty pictures.” He rolled his eyes. “I have the best set of live art titties in creation. Why the fuck she thought I’d need pictures of other ones boggles me.”

  Kline shook his head and smirked. “The two of you really are perfect for one another.”

  Thatch smiled, leaning forward to buzz the intercom out to his assistant. “Mad, can you bring in some coffee?”

  “Sure thing,” she answered immediately.

  Yes. Coffee sounded good.

  “So what are you wanting us to invest in?” Wes asked, the only one with any fucking focus these days. I figured it had more to do with his stepdaughter Lexi than anything. She was an on-task kind of kid. And I wasn’t kidding. Lexi hadn’t even reached adolescence, and she could solve advanced calculus problems. Her brilliant little brain never stopped.

  “Property?” Thatch offered.

  “A start-up business?” Kline chimed in.

  “What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Wes griped. “Let the man tell us himself.”

  I winced, knowing my prospect wasn’t nearly as financially rewarding as those things…at all. But at the thought of Melody with these patients, women who needed her, I pushed on anyway.

  “Actually, it’s a clinic.”

  They stared.

  “A free clinic. With about zero chance of any financial gain.” I shrugged and went for it. “Probably a financial loss, to be honest.”

  Thatch laughed outright. “Well, you’ve got balls.”

  Kline smirked and leaned his elbows on the table. “And what’s the purpose of this free clinic? If we’re guaranteed to lose money, what’s the draw here?”

  “You’d be helping women, especially pregnant women, who can’t afford medical care, get it.”

  “Does this have anything to do with your girlfriend?” Thatch asked.

  I tried to look innocent, but with the way he hooted into laughter, I knew I’d failed.

  “I was wrong. She’s got you by the balls.”

  Kline smacked him, but he didn’t look like he disagreed. I jumped to explain.

  “Yes, this kind of patient outreach is Melody’s passion. You should fucking see her with these women. But regardless of that, the city could really use one. There’s a whole population of women out there who are underserved. I approached the hospital board, but they shot it down pretty quickly.”

  “Of course they did,” Wes said with a chuckle. “It’s a money pit.”

  Kline nodded. “Yep. All they saw was a love-sick idiot.”

  “They don’t know about my relationship with Melody,” I corrected.

  “Sorry, dude,” Wes apologized. “It’s written all over you.”

  Disheartened, I stood up from the table and reached out to shake all of their hands. I couldn’t say I blamed them. They hadn’t gotten the kind of money they had by going around blowing it on dead-end investments.

  They smiled and said their goodbyes, but none of them jumped up and shouted they’d be happy to give me their money.

  I’d have to figure out another way.

  Spending the night in a hotel was fun and even a nice little reprieve from the real world when you were on vacation. But enduring a night in a hotel room after you’d watched—well, mostly heard—your boyfriend bang a coworker on his television, inside his apartment, with God knows how many other viewers? Yeah, that experience was fucking awful.

  I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, and when I’d finally managed to fall asleep, my dreams consisted of weird mashups of what I’d witnessed on The Doctor Is In.

  My mind had played some seriously evil tricks on me, and I’d found myself wide awake and ready to escape the nightmares that hotel bed had brought before my alarm went off.

  Which explained why, for once in my always tardy life, I was on time to work.

  Groggy-eyed and numb from experiencing too many emotions in a twelve-hour period, I shuffled into the office after I’d made a quick stop at my parents’ apartment for fresh scrubs and a trip to Starbucks for a coffee with three shots of espresso.

  Considering my dog-tired state, I’d contemplated four shots, but I honestly wasn’t sure if my heart could manage any additional stress. It’d already taken quite the fucking beating last night.

  Once I set my stuff in my locker, I did my best to focus my brainpower on getting the office ready for a full day’s worth of appointments. But as I set up each exam room with fresh paper and medical supplies, I couldn’t stop my racing thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about that episode. I couldn’t stop hearing the sounds Will had made behind the on-call room door. I couldn’t stop remembering how easily he’d lied to me. “Never,” he’d said, and God had those words flowed off his tongue without any hesitation.

  By the time the clock struck 9 a.m., and the rest of the staff—besides Will—had filled the office, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep my composure. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could physically stay at work. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I could successfully do my job—a job that I technically didn’t even really want to do anymore. For the past month or so, I’d been struggling over the fact that I knew my passion wasn’t working in a medical office. Sure, I enjoyed it, I loved taking care of women during pregnancy, but deep down, I wanted to make it so that all of my time was focused on those women who really needed assistance and advice and someone to support them. Women like Carmen and Syreeta and Bethany and…yeah, it was truly an endless list, and that was only in New York. But I’d stayed for Will. I loved seeing him all day long, watching him in action and thriving underneath his steady assurance.

  Well, that’s well and truly fucked now, isn’t it?

  No, really. Isn’t it? Someone help me out here. I fucking hate feeling like this.

  Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have a chance to find a way out of my internal hell.

  Will walked through the reception doors with his briefcase in his hand while I was working on a computer in the hall, and the instant his reserved blue eyes met mine, a rush of emotions hit me all at once. Anger. Sadness. Heartbreak. I felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath me.

  God, just the mere sight of him hurts like a knife to my already mangled heart.

  Quickly, I averted my eyes and tried to switch my focus back toward the computer screen in front of me, but he didn’t give me a reprieve. Out of my periphery, I watched as his feet moved
in my direction, until they stopped directly beside me.

  “Mel?” he asked quietly, concern etching his voice.

  “Yeah?” I responded, but I couldn’t find the strength to meet his eyes.

  “I missed you last night,” he whispered.

  “Sorry,” I muttered and racked my brain for a quick excuse to end this conversation before I started to sob in the middle of the hallway. “I was busy…with…uh…with helping Janet…” I lied. “Yeah…I was busy with Janet until late last night.”

  “Shit. Is she okay?”

  “Uh-huh. She’s fine.”

  I knew it was my fault, that’d I’d been the one to avoid him last night, but I really didn’t want to have this scene out at work.

  “Mel,” he said, and his voice dropped to anxious. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I lied and started to type out the rest of my nursing note into a patient chart. “Just busy trying to finish up charting on a follow-up call.”

  He placed his hands on top of mine, stopping my typing progress. “Can you take a quick break from that and come to my office?”

  I glanced up from the computer screen and met his gaze.

  “Please?” he asked and with the way his blue eyes had turned pleading, I couldn’t not give in to his request.

  I nodded, and silently, I followed his lead down the hall and inside his office.

  He shut the door with a quiet click and set his briefcase beside his desk. Wordlessly, he stared across the room, into my eyes, with worry creasing his brow.

  “What’s going on, Mel?” he asked, and I shrugged.

  “Nothing.”

  Everything.