“They want me to continue your treatment at home, where you will have greater control over your privacy.”
His other eye opened and he stared at her. “You’re not sending me home to die, are you?”
“No. I’m not giving up on you and you should not give up, either. In fact,” she went on, staring at her tablet and nothing in particular, “I’m going to be living at the estate in the room next to yours for the time being so that I can ensure that you’re receiving the best care possible twenty-four hours a day.”
Sutton didn’t respond immediately. She couldn’t tell if this announcement surprised or pleased him—or made him furious. Finally, he said, “You don’t come cheap, I assume?”
No, but the fact that she was selling her services to the highest bidder had a way of making her feel pretty damned cheap. “The Newports and the Winchesters have generously agreed to provide the bulk of the funding for the new cancer pavilion expansion here at Midwest.”
Sutton exhaled and seemed to sink back into his pillows. The conversation had clearly worn him out. “Should’ve held out for more,” he said in a tone of voice that would’ve been scolding if he’d had any energy. “You need to be a tougher negotiator.”
“Yes, well, you and I are going to have a lot of time together over the next several weeks. I look forward to hearing how you would recommend I go about doing just that.”
She watched him for a moment longer, but he’d settled in to sleep.
As she walked out of Sutton’s room, she almost ran into John Jackson, the vice president of the hospital. “Dr. Wilde! Just the person I was hoping to see!” he gushed.
Lucy didn’t necessarily believe in a sixth sense, but if she had one, hers was telling her to run. Quickly. “Mr. Jackson, how can I help you today?”
“I wanted to be the one to tell you,” he went on, grinning like a loon. “It’s simply wonderful!”
She began to back away from him. “I already know about the cancer pavilion,” she reminded him.
“No, no! I mean, well—yes. This is about the cancer pavilion. Sort of.”
“Mr. Jackson,” Lucy said, pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “I’m making my rounds—if you could be so kind as to get to the point?”
“Yes, yes—of course. The Newports are hosting a gala benefit for the children’s hospital they’re building.”
She stared at him because that wasn’t exactly news. Nor was it relevant to her. “So?”
“So!” He clapped his hands. “They want you to be the guest of honor!”
Oh, God. “Why?”
“Why?” Jackson blinked at her. “It’s because of everything you’re doing for them. This is wonderful! The publicity—the visibility!”
Lucy could feel all eyes from the nurses station on her. Her life was no longer her own and everyone knew it. She did her best to put on a brave face, though. “How delightful. And when are the festivities scheduled?”
“Three weeks!” Jackson was physically bouncing on the balls of his feet, which made him look like a four-year-old who was so excited about a birthday present he couldn’t stand still. “I’m sure we can make time for you to attend—what with you being the guest of honor and all.”
Translation? This was not an optional event. Attendance was mandatory.
She remembered what Sutton had said to her just a few minutes ago. “And what are we going to get out of it?” There. That was her being a better negotiator.
Jackson’s smile cracked, but Lucy was done with the social niceties. They never got her anywhere, anyway. “It will be a fund-raising event. With the Winchesters and the Newports hosting, the cream of Chicago’s high society will be in attendance.”
If she was going to give up yet another part of her life—and her self-determination—she needed to make sure it was for a greater cause. She wanted to tell Jackson that the children’s hospital should have the best damned children’s oncology department in the country—but she knew that Jackson was only concerned with Midwest. “That cardiac cath lab you wanted—I won’t go unless we get a commitment of funds for that,” she told Jackson.
“Yes, well, yes,” Jackson blustered, as if the idea of an oncologist caring about cardiology was so foreign as to be hilarious. “I’ll see what I can do.”
As much as Lucy wanted to hide in her office, she was doing rounds. So she forced herself to nod at the nurses who were busy not eavesdropping before she went in to see her next patient, Mr. Gadhavi.
There was nothing good about this. She was so well-known for her lack of a social life that the appearance of flowers had the entire department gossiping. She was so unpracticed at being dumped—if you could call two almost-dates with Josh “dating”—that even an old cad like Sutton Winchester could tell that she was upset. And now she was going to have to get dressed up and go to the benefit and smile for all the people who were making her miserable.
Well, not all of them. With any luck, Josh Calhoun would not be at the benefit.
She wanted so badly to blame this on Josh, but it wasn’t his fault—not entirely. Lucy had made herself a promise that she would not humiliate herself in front of Josh again, and yet she’d managed that not once but twice in the course of a few hours.
Worse than the embarrassment—worse than having her virginity thrown back in her face—was that she hadn’t seen his parting insult coming. Long ago, she’d stopped thinking of her sexual status as something to be pitied, condemned or fixed. It was a nonissue to her. Sure, she wished she dated. She wanted someone to come home to, someone to do things with. She wanted someone in her bed in the morning and at night. She wanted to love someone and she wanted to know that she was lovable.
But, ultimately, that was not how Josh had made her feel. When it came down to it, all of her choices, her hopes, her dreams—they had all been reduced to one simple label.
Thirty-five-year-old virgin.
And now she wasn’t even that anymore.
She never wanted to see Josh Calhoun again.
* * *
The following days passed in a blur. Lucy packed up and relocated to the Winchester state. Sutton Winchester was discharged and transported home. When he had some energy, he complained loudly about the color of the walls, the remote for the TV that his daughters had picked out, the noises of the machines. When he was tired, he yelled or snipped or tried to browbeat Lucy and her nurses.
Lucy was pulling eight-to ten-hour days at Midwest. Then she would spend a couple of hours taking care of her personal business before she went to the Winchester estate and spent hours with Sutton Winchester or his daughters. Then she would sleep poorly, get up and do it all over again the next day.
She did not hear from Josh. Which was fine. She didn’t want to.
Carson Newport came by to see his father on a regular basis—although the older man did not seem any more inclined now to answer Carson’s questions than he had been when in the hospital.
Sutton’s daughters stopped by to see him often, too. And they made sure that Lucy had anything she could possibly need. Staying at the Winchester estate was almost like being at a spa retreat—a working spa retreat, but still. Sutton’s chef was excellent, Lucy’s minifridge was well-stocked with soda and wine—not that she drank a lot while she was on call, which was all the time, but still—and a maid made up her room every day. In all honesty, it was as close to a vacation as she had gotten in years. Except for the man fighting for his life next door, that was.
Except for the fact that she didn’t hear from Josh.
She’d been at the Winchester estate for six nights when she came home to find Carson sitting by Sutton’s bed. They weren’t talking, but Lucy got the feeling that Sutton was only pretending to be asleep. “How are we tonight?” she asked, wanting nothing more than a good soak in the enormous two-perso
n whirlpool tub that was in her bathroom and knowing she couldn’t. Not yet.
Carson stood and, with a glance back at his father, went to meet her in the doorway. “Is he always this quiet, or is he just avoiding talking to me?”
She thought she saw Sutton turn his head slightly at the sound of Carson’s voice.
“Well...” she hedged. Her first priority was, as always, her patient. “The alternative seems to be yelling. Lots of yelling.” The light in the room was dim, but she was almost positive she saw the corner of Sutton’s mouth curve up. That old man wasn’t fooling anyone right now.
Anyone except for Carson. “Dr. Wilde,” he said in an even quieter voice, which made her lean in. “I wanted to apologize to you.”
Lucy took a step back. “Why? Have you done something else that’s going to...” She let her voice trail off because there was no way she could complete that sentence while maintaining a polite, professional exterior.
“I wanted to tell you that I appreciate everything you’ve done on behalf of our family. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty—you and Josh.”
Lucy stiffened at the mention of Josh’s name. “Oh? What else have you had him doing?”
A muscle in Carson’s jaw clenched. “Nothing, actually. He’s been back in Iowa for a week. I get the feeling that he’s not talking to us. Me and my brothers,” he quickly corrected. “I asked him to come with you last week to make sure the room was acceptable. As I understand it, that was not the best way to handle the situation and I put both of you in an uncomfortable position.”
Lucy could feel all of the blood draining out of her face, but she did her level best not to have any other reaction. “Yes, well.” That seemed to be the only thing she was capable of saying.
It should not matter that Josh had returned to Cedar Point without telling her. Why would it? He’d shown up in Chicago without letting her know, after all. He was under no obligation to keep her apprised of his movements. But, somehow, the fact that he’d not only walked out of her apartment without a look back but walked away from Chicago just stung all the more.
She really did mean that little to him. And that wasn’t just an observation about the sex and the aftermath. Their years of friendship and their bond over Gary—it actually hadn’t meant that much at all.
She must not have gotten any better recently at hiding her emotions, because Carson gave her a worried look and then gestured for her to step out into the hallway. He closed the door behind them. “I really am sorry,” he said again.
Lucy tried to wave this away. “He mentioned that you guys were old friends. I understand how those things go.”
Carson gave her an odd look. “Did something happen? If he was a jerk, I can go beat him up for you.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “That won’t be necessary.” But her curiosity got the better of her. “You knew his wife, didn’t you?”
“Sydney? Yes. We all loved her. It was funny how it shook out. I think Graham was actually interested in her when he introduced her to Josh. It was the sort of thing that could have ended a friendship. But Josh was the peacemaker.”
“Yeah, he’s always been that way.” Except when it came to her, apparently. No, that wasn’t fair. When they were around other people, it was fine. It was only when it was the two of them alone. That was when it all went to hell.
Carson seemed to consider this. “Have you ever seen him mad?”
“Of course,” she said, trying not to think about the way things had ended. “Why?”
Carson ran a hand through his hair. “Because after he came back from here the other week, he was mad at us and told us to stop jerking you around. Not in so many words, but the message was the same.”
Lucy tried to synthesize this information without actually reacting to it. “Yet the very next day, I was informed I would be a guest of honor at a gala banquet—instead of being asked.”
Carson winced. “It wasn’t my fault. That was entirely the doing of my sisters.”
Lucy sighed. “It’s fine.”
She didn’t mean it and she was pretty sure that Carson knew it. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you...” he said.
“That won’t be necessary.” God only knew how he might try. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to attend.”
Carson stepped aside and she moved past him. But against her better judgment, she paused with her hand on the doorknob. “If you do talk to Josh,” she said, “could you make sure he’s doing all right?”
Which was an admission of failure and she knew it. If she were really Josh’s friend, she should be able to ask him that herself.
But she couldn’t.
Carson nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Lucy managed to muster a wan smile and then went in to see her patient, closing the door behind her.
Sutton wasn’t pretending to be asleep anymore. “You’re back again,” he said in the tone of voice that suggested he had a little more energy today. Which meant he was going to be cranky and Lucy was going to take the brunt of it. “Who is this Josh?”
“So you’re feeling better,” Lucy said, determined not to give him anything more to work with.
“I don’t want you here anymore,” Sutton snapped at her. “I want all these tubes out. I’m not that sick.”
Lucy gave him a stern look, but the old man didn’t even blink. “Did you chase Jenelle off?” she asked, looking around for the nurse who was supposed to be on duty.
“Carson told her to go get something to eat,” Sutton grumbled. He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes. “He looks so much like his mother.”
Lucy did not want to be drawn into the Newport/Winchester family drama any more than she had to be—but right now she’d rather deal with their drama than her own. “Have you told him that?”
Sutton didn’t answer. Apparently, he was going to pretend to be asleep to any question he didn’t feel like answering.
“Did you know your children are hosting a gala benefit for the new children’s hospital the Newports are building? And I’m the guest of honor?”
That got his attention. “Why are they doing that?”
“Because I haven’t killed you yet,” she told him briskly. “And I took your advice—I negotiated for the cardiac cath lab funding at Midwest in exchange for being dressed up and paraded around like a trophy. Indirectly, you’re helping a great many people who can’t afford this level of care on their own—you know that, right?” She shot a snarky smile at him. “You might even get Humanitarian of the Year at the rate you’re going.”
When he didn’t answer, she peeked at him again, expecting to find him asleep. But he was watching her closely. “This Josh was a fool to let you go.”
She cringed. “Mr. Winchester, does this constitute flirting for you?”
That got the old man to grin. He still looked terrible—two steps above death warmed over—but grinning was an improvement. Laughter was the best medicine, after all. “If I were a stronger man, I’d have you on my arm at this benefit. And in my bed afterward.” The smile still on his face, his eyes started to drift shut, and this time Lucy was sure that he wasn’t faking sleep. His chest rose and fell in even breaths and a little color was coming back into his cheeks. It wouldn’t last—this next round of chemo was due to hit tomorrow morning and he was going to look only one step above death warmed over then. But he hadn’t given up.
Jenelle came back in, and she and Lucy conferred over Sutton’s status.
When this was all over and Lucy went back to her normal life, she was sure she would feel like herself again. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
She had a gala benefit she needed to get ready for, a patient to save and a hospital administrator to keep in line—not to mention all of her other patien
ts.
She did not have a single moment to waste thinking about Josh Calhoun.
Finally, she went to her room.
There was a bouquet of daisies and sunflowers on her coffee table.
The card read, “L—you deserve a better class of friends. J.”
Now what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Eleven
Josh’s phone rang as he was trying to make sense of the latest sales for Calhoun Creamery’s new Greek yogurt line. The numbers were sagging. They might’ve entered this market a little too late, he was forced to conclude as he answered the phone. “This is Josh,” he said, putting the call on speakerphone.
“If I ask you to come back to Chicago,” Carson Newport said, “will you hate me forever? Or just for a couple of days?”
“I won’t hate you,” Josh told him, setting his report aside. “But I’m not coming back to Chicago.” Ever, he mentally added.
“My sisters,” Carson went on as if Josh hadn’t spoken, “have decided the best way to honor the extraordinary efforts of one Dr. Lucinda Wilde is to make her the guest of honor at the gala benefit we’re hosting on behalf of the new children’s hospital we’re building.”
Josh might have groaned. He wasn’t sure.
“Dr. Wilde has requested that some funds raised at this benefit go to a new cardiac cath lab, seeing as we’ve already paid for the cancer pavilion expansion,” Carson added.
This was a trap. Josh could feel it. The question was, what kind of trap was it? He hadn’t figured Lucy to go cry on anyone’s shoulder. She hadn’t even cried on his shoulder. Of course, she hadn’t punched him, either—and he certainly deserved a good walloping.
This was a huge mess and, apparently, it wasn’t a mess that was going to go away if he ignored it.
“So you’re building a new children’s hospital, funding a cancer pavilion and now a new cardiology lab? Business must be better than I thought.” Of course, Lucy would ask for something so selfless. She’d said her dad died of a heart attack, right? A less scrupulous person would have pocketed that cash or demanded a finder’s fee or something.
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