by J. Saman
“Okay then,” he says with the slightest of smirks, scooting just a bit closer to me. Now he’s definitely touching me. No mistaking it. “No platitudes. No standard words of comfort.” I nod. “How’s this then? I lost my father the same way when I was twenty-two.”
I examine his profile, his eyes fixed out into the street the way mine just were and I sort of feel like shit for dumping on him. “That sucks,” I say instead of I’m sorry. Hearing I’m sorry only seems to make you feel worse.
“Yeah. It did. I won’t even lie and say it made me stronger or a better man or that he’s the reason I became a doctor because all of that would be a lie.”
“Yeah?” I laugh, despite myself. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me now.”
He chuckles, peering in my direction and making it impossible for me to see anything else. “I had wanted to be a doctor since I was six. His death really had no impact on that. And I was already a much better man at twenty-two than he was at fifty-two so I can’t say that either.”
“Well, alright then.” I smirk and it feels…good. “Sounds like your father was a real prize.”
“If that’s sarcasm, then I’ll say you get where I was going with that.”
“It was sarcasm, so I guess I do.”
He smiles the most beautiful of smiles at me, those eyes slaying my thoughts. His jaw is strong and absurdly sexy with just the right amount of stubble that says, I’ve been at this job for hours and haven’t had time to shave. Even his freaking nose is perfect. It has the smallest bump on the bridge, making me wonder if it was broken long ago. It’s just different enough to make him the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
My father is dead and all I see is Dr. Banner. But it’s so much easier to think about him than the fact that my father is gone. Than it is to think about how my father will never get to hear about the work I do. Or the fact that I’ll never introduce him to the man I’ll marry. He’ll never know his grandchildren. Fuck.
I sigh, fighting the urge to succumb to the tears I’m desperate to shed. I hate today.
“My father was a doctor,” I say. “Did my mother tell you that?” He shakes his head. “He was a cardiologist of all things so I think I’m drowning in irony.” He rubs his arm against mine, but he doesn’t laugh, which I appreciate it. “I come from five generations of doctors so when I–his only child–told him I wanted to be a nurse, he was surprisingly okay with it. He told me it was about time the family had someone who cared enough about humanity to try and fix it.”
“Wow,” Dr. Banner muses. “That’s pretty incredible.”
I nod. “Yeah, it really was. And when I told him I wanted to be a midwife, he offered to pay for graduate school. Said the future babies of the world needed a brilliant hand to lead them in.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Shit. Because today was my graduation and he’s dead and I can’t even tell him I got an award for being top in my class.” I give him a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not bragging, I swear. I’m just pissed off.”
“It’s cool. I was top in my class too. So now we’re both bragging.” He smiles at me and despite the somber mood I’m drowning in, I feel that smile.
“Well, aren’t you the big man on campus.”
He laughs and I find myself laughing with him. “That’s such a cliché. I prefer, most astute and talented man on campus.”
“Noted. Whenever I think of you, it will be in those terms.”
Dr. Banner tilts his head so he’s catching all of my face, and my attention has nowhere else to go but to him. His eyes are piercing, his expression pointed. “This may be totally inappropriate, especially given the situation, but that’s definitely not where I want your thoughts to go whenever you think of me.” I swallow. Hard.
He opens his mouth to speak when one of the nurses comes out, calling my name. Dr. Banner’s eyes shut, his face is lined with regret. Regret for what specifically, I cannot be sure. Because he doesn’t ask me out and he doesn’t say anything else. But I guess this isn’t the moment for whatever he’s trying to offer me.
So instead, I nudge him with my elbow and say, “See you around, Dr. Banner.” And then I leave him, sitting on that curb, watching me walk away.
Chapter 1
Gia
1 year later
“It’s a full freaking moon,” Chloe says as she leans against the edge of the nurse’s station, taking down her messy bun and redoing it into something a bit more structured. “Can anyone explain to me the medical reason women go into a labor at a higher rate than normal during the full freaking moon?”
I can’t, but it’s true all the same. Tonight has been rough. Ten women were admitted in labor. That might not seem like a lot, but in a six-hour period, it is. Add on to that, the fact we’re short two nurses and one of the doctors has been stuck in the OR dealing with an emergency hysterectomy, following a very complicated delivery.
“Are we caught up?” I ask instead of commenting on her non-question.
“Yeah. I think we are.” Chloe sighs out, rubbing her blue eyes and twisting her head around her neck until it makes that sick popping sound. “What time are you off?”
“An hour ago,” I say, massaging my own sore neck. “I had a patient whose labor stalled. I didn’t want to leave her.”
“Aww,” she coos. “You’re a good one, aren’t you? I would have been out the door–” She pauses as Dr. Fernandez walks past us. “Damn, he’s hot. Why are the new interns so hot?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, you should go home. We’re caught up and your lady delivered her little bundle of joy.”
I stand up, scrutinizing her. “What the hell made you become a midwife if you’re all about the sarcasm?”
She shrugs with a smile I can’t help but laugh at. “What can I say, I’m a sucker for vagina.”
“The world would be a better place if everyone respected them the way you do.”
“So true, my friend. So very true.”
I laugh and so does Chloe and it somehow manages to release some of the night we just had. “Okay, I’m out of here. If you’re sure you’re set.”
“I’m set. Go home and sleep.”
Leaning forward, I give her a kiss on the cheek, sign out my last patient who is still in early labor to the next midwife coming on and get the hell off the floor before I get sucked back into the vortex.
July in hospitals is a precarious time. New interns. New fellows. New medical students.
I’ve been working as a midwife for the last year and I finally feel like I’m hitting my stride with it. I got this job almost instantly after passing my boards. I do two days outpatient and two days inpatient and I’m loving it. The fact I get to work with Chloe is really only a minor incentive.
At this time of night, the main doors of the hospital are locked and the only way in or out is through the ED. My father died fourteen months ago and even though it wasn’t in this hospital, I hate the ED. Hate it. Every now and then, I get called down here to help a pregnant patient in labor who came in maybe just a bit too late. Or consult on a pregnant patient who came in for an entirely different reason.
But when I have to walk through here without any purpose, my gut sinks. It’s a reflex more than anything else. I didn’t spend a whole lot of time in the ED when he died. But it’s still probably my least favorite place.
Taking the stairs in lieu of the busy elevator, I open the door which leads into the back hallway and am nearly knocked over by a gurney as a crowd of doctors and nurses rush some poor bastard back into the trauma room.
I don’t watch them go. Instead I just continue in the direction of the waiting room which will ultimately lead me out into the street. I wave out a hello to a few other people I know, press in the large round metal button and step into the waiting room. It’s full. But most of the people here seem to be together. Like a big family or an intentional gathering. They’re all dressed impeccably, lots of black
tuxedos and gorgeous designer gowns.
And their expressions are distraught.
I wonder if I’ll always feel that ache when I see something like that.
Probably, I decide. But I’m still in the phase where I’m okay with that. It doesn’t annoy me. I like missing him. I like that ache. It keeps me close to him. The day I stop feeling it scares me more than anything else.
My eyes linger on that group of people, hoping their worry winds up being for nothing.
The sliding doors make that mechanical sound as they part for me and I step out into the balmy, sticky night. I live close to the hospital now. I moved out of my four-story walk-up in Harlem and now I live in a nice one-bedroom, in a decent building with an elevator. Sure, it doesn’t have a doorman, but I don’t really need someone to open the door for me and collect the packages I never get.
I was able to purchase it, instead of renting, because my father left me a substantial inheritance. I didn’t want it. But my mother told me it would have made him happy to help me get the things I need and to live in a safe building. It still makes me uneasy. Profiting from the death of my father just feels wrong.
It’s nearly midnight as I look up at the bright moon, shunning out any stars which would dare to shine against it. I’m exhausted. But the good news is I don’t have to work tomorrow. Or the next day, now that I think about it. In fact, I don’t have to be back in the hospital for anything until Monday morning when I have regular clinic hours.
That puts a smile on my face as I turn to head toward my apartment. My phone buzzes against my scrub pants and I can’t stop my laugh as I see it’s a picture from Chloe of Dr. Fernandez flirting with one of the nurses accompanied by an emoji of a sad face.
She really needs to let that one go.
Just as I’m sliding my phone back into its place, the edge of my clog catches the corner of a misaligned brick paver and my ankle rolls awkwardly. Losing my balance, I fall sideways, unable to right myself as I head directly for the street. A small startled scream passes my lips. A jolt of panic rushes through me, paralyzing me in terror as I catch sight of the bright headlights of an oncoming car, speeding in my direction. Their horn blares out as if it’s capable of stopping my rapid descent into the street. Into their path.
My eyes clench shut in anticipation of the collision when I feel hands grasp onto my right biceps, yanking me back to the sidewalk. The quick shift in momentum has me screaming out again, blindly rushing toward the ground only to be captured by the hands which saved me.
A strong warm body cocoons me momentarily before my disoriented limbs are steadied, realigning my position until I’m standing upright, breathing hard and shaking like a leaf.
“Shit,” my savior cusses, clearly as shaken as I am. “Are you okay?” I can’t answer that one just yet. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my entire life. His fingers reach up, grasping my chin and raising my face to his and…Oh. My. God. It’s Dr. Banner. He gasps, his bright-blue eyes wide, still rattled with the stress of pulling a woman away from certain death. We both stand there for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk just staring at the other, quietly stunned. “It’s you.”
“It’s me,” I say back and then mentally shake my head because, really? “You...um...,” I shift slightly, needing to look away from him yet unable to do so, “you saved my life. Thank you. That really doesn’t feel like enough, but I can’t think clearly enough to effuse the proper gratitude.”
Dr. Banner blows out a breath and then grins at me. “You’re welcome. I’d say it was my pleasure, but that feels like the wrong sentiment in a moment like this. And considering the fact that you just used the word effuse, I think you’re able to think pretty clearly.”
I smile and laugh a little because–holy motherfucking hell–I almost died. And Dr. Finnigan Banner saved me. It makes me want to launch myself into his arms and hug him, but I think the moment for that has past and at this point, it would come across as slightly crazy.
“You work here now?” I say, instead, because he’s wearing scrubs and he’s standing outside my hospital, which is a different hospital from the one I met him in over a year ago.
He nods. That’s it. And his response sort of pisses me off. I don’t exactly know what I’m expecting from him, but given the situation, a nod feels a bit lackluster. “I take it you do too,” he says, eyeing my scrubs.
“Yup. I’ve been here for about a year now. You?”
We’re playing that game. The one where you bounce a version of the same question back and forth. It’s unsatisfyingly awkward. Especially since my heart is still racing away in my chest. And if I had to attest to the cause, I’d say it’s all related to the man standing in front of me and not the near miss with the car.
“Only a few weeks,” he says. “Probably why I haven’t run into you before now.”
He smirks at his play on words and I get locked on the way his lips look as they crookedly smile. The way his eyes appear to glow against the darkness of night. The way I catch a hint of his cologne when the breeze blows just right. The way my body comes alive, zapping with the electric current which swims between us.
“Probably,” I say, smiling back at him.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about him in the year since I first met him. In the beginning, sometimes I allowed thoughts of him to eclipse thoughts of my father. It was oddly comforting and warm to do so. Mostly because I imagined he was thinking about me too. And as I stand here, taking him in, I realize my memory of him didn’t quite do him justice.
“I got called in tonight,” he says. “I guess it’s a good thing it’s a full moon, otherwise who knows what would have happened to you.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” I shake my head, still a bit stunned. “Hey, can you explain that to me? I mean, why do women go into labor on the full moon and why is the ED always overrun?”
He looks down at me with those eyes of his which are now dancing with amusement. “Couldn’t say? Gravitational pull of the tides maybe?”
I laugh. “I don’t think that even makes sense, but sure, let’s call it that.”
He laughs too and I realize I really like the sound of his laugh. It’s one of those deep sexy laughs you can’t help but feel in the pit of your stomach. And other places as well. “Are you on your way out?”
I nod. “Yeah. I am. I should probably let you get to it then. I’m sure I’m not the only damsel in distress who needs you to save them tonight.” I move to step around him, not wanting to say goodbye and definitely not knowing how to do it. “Have a good shift,” I say, feeling myself frown like a small child would. “Thanks again for saving my life.”
“I don’t have to be on until midnight,” Dr. Banner says quickly, reaching out a hand and grasping my shoulder, stopping me. His hand drops instantly once I turn to him, my head tilted to the side, not fully understanding his meaning. “It’s eleven forty. I have twenty minutes.”
“Oh.”
“Are you walking home?”
“I only live a few blocks away.”
He turns in the direction I’m facing so he’s now standing beside me, tall and impressive. “I’ll walk you then. I don’t like the idea of you walking alone without me to rescue you from the next fall.”
I try my best not to smile. I really do, but it comes out anyway. “Okay. You can walk me home. You don’t have to beg.”
Dr. Banner laughs again, but it doesn’t last long and I have nothing to follow up my cheesy comment with. But I don’t think he cares about that, because he’s watching me out of the corner of his eye. I catch him doing it since I’m doing the same thing. And suddenly, I’m filled with the incredible giddy urge to smile. Because, wow, I never expected this.
We’re silent for about a half a block, watching the people come and go around the hospital. “Do you like what you do?” he asks once we’re in the darker part of the sidewalk. He’s walking with his hands tucked into his scr
ub pockets and I wonder if it’s so he won’t be tempted to touch me. I hope it’s so he won’t be tempted to touch me, because that means he’s thinking about touching me, and I think that’s exactly what I want him to be thinking about right now.
Definitely not, if I like my job.
But I answer him anyway because I find I want him to know about me. “Yes,” I say in earnest. “I absolutely love what I do.”
He gives me an appreciative smile for that. “I bet you’re really good at your job.”
I return his smile and neither of us can seem to stop smiling as we inch just a bit closer to each other. Because our smiles appear to have a gravitational pull to them. Sort of like the full moon. And the tides. And the full ED and the laboring women.
There is no reason for this type of compulsion with a complete stranger other than an inexplicable force of nature. Of chemistry.
But it’s there. And it’s strong. It’s not even because he saved my life tonight, though admittedly, that’s not hurting things.
“What about you? Are you still a resident?”
“No, I’m not a resident anymore. I completed my residency in June and am now an attending. I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a fellowship year in something specialized. Not sure what yet though.”
“How old are you?” I ask and he laughs, nudging into my shoulder.
“How old do you think I am?”
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and contemplate that as I gaze up at him. His face says he’s probably a little older than me. Maybe twenty-nine or even thirty. I mean, he has to be at least that since he just finished his residency. But there is something about him, something in his eyes or his mannerisms which make him appear so much older. It’s actually why I asked him. I mean, how often do you ask someone their age?