“What other reasons?” I asked, unsure why a man like him would be against having someone to make his life easier. His brother did it; his father did it.
He was quiet for so long that it was obvious he wouldn’t answer me.
“Well, I’m glad you made an exception for me.”
He turned back to me. “Well, it’s not really an exception anymore. But, yes, it’s nice.”
I still had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t ask.
We pulled up to the building, and Dex took a look at it. “Of course, my parents decided to put me in a palace…” He opened the door and got out.
I followed him, and we entered the building. I introduced him to the door greeter and then the receptionist at the desk that kept track of the mail and packages that came in for the residents. We got into the elevator and began to rise. “Your mom said she wanted something a little more secure than just a regular apartment. You know, that way, a disgruntled patient can’t try to get into your apartment or take your mail or worse.”
“I get it.” His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out and took a look at a couple emails before he sheathed it again.
His new profession had barely begun, and he was already weighed down by constant commitment.
The doors opened, and I escorted him to the apartment. I unlocked the door with my key then let him go inside first.
He took a couple steps inside and slid his hands into his pockets. He examined the fireplace, the TV above the mantel on the wall, the furniture and the rug, the vase of flowers, and everything else about the perfectly designed space. His only reaction was letting out a quiet whistle.
“It has three bedrooms, a full kitchen, plenty of room for entertaining… There’s also a gym in the building.” He obviously worked out. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stretch the sleeves of his shirt like that.
He stepped farther inside and took a look around, examining the plates in the kitchen, the dining table, the paintings on the wall and the sculptures, and then he went into the master bedroom, which was decorated with masculine furniture and tones.
I continued to trail behind him. “Do you like it?” I honestly couldn’t tell because he was impossible to read right now.
He spun around and looked at me, his hand dragging over the hair at the back of his head. “It’s nice.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“I do. It just reminds me of my old place.”
“And what was wrong with your old place?”
He dropped his hand and gave a shrug. “Not a single thing.” He walked past me and headed down the hallway and back into the living room.
I followed him. “So…should I begin the moving process? Just being in Manhattan is going to be much easier on you. It’ll save you a lot of time—and you’re going to have very little time as it is.”
He took a final look around before he faced me again. “Yeah.”
I sighed a breath of relief, having been afraid he was going to fight me on this. Having him here would make my job a lot easier. Where he was located in Brooklyn was two trains away, and I really didn’t want to go all the way out there every time I needed to do something personal for him. “Great. I’ll start the process tomorrow, and I’ll figure out what to do with your current lease agreement.”
All he gave was a nod, his mood still quiet, his expression hard. “I’m going to head back to the lab.”
“I’ll bring you dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just because I want to work long hours doesn’t mean you need to.”
“Well, I’ll put a mini fridge in your office, then. That way, you can always grab something if you’re there late.”
He considered the suggestion for a long time before he gave a nod. “Not a bad idea.”
2
Dex
Instead of being annoyed with my parents for getting that apartment before I even took on my first patient, I just let it be. Honestly, I hated living in Brooklyn, not because there was anything wrong with it, but because it was a huge pain in the ass to commute every morning. I was working longer hours than I did at the Trinity Building, so a forty-five-minute commute was time I just didn’t have. If I were going to do surgeries regularly, I needed to get enough sleep every single night, so that was a priority now.
Now I had a driver pick me up from my apartment in the morning, and Sicily was always there, giving me my morning coffee and breakfast before she turned quiet and worked on her laptop during the drive.
It was much more convenient than the subway because I could make phone calls and work on my emails during the drive. With the subway, I wasn’t always guaranteed a seat, and even if I did have one, if I saw an elderly person or a person with a disability, I always gave up my seat. And if I ever saw a pregnant woman, I jumped out of my seat so fast and insisted she take it.
But now I didn’t have to worry about that.
We made it to the office, and Andrea was already there, ready to take the first patient of the day.
I stepped into my office and unzipped my hoodie as Sicily went to my desk and pulled up all the information I needed for my first patient. She downloaded all the imaging I needed to view and then uploaded all the lab work on my device so I could move seamlessly between all the information and keep everything open at the same time. Then she vacated the chair and met me near the coffee table. “I’ll let you know when your first patient is ready. Is there anything I can do before then?”
Sicily was a fucking rock star. My mom was on top of her game all the time, but Sicily was just as good, if not better. She hustled and got shit done without looking put out at all, anticipating my needs before I had them.
It was hot.
And she was also hot.
But anyway, time to focus. “I’m good.”
“Alright.” She walked out and shut the door behind her.
I took a look at the schedule and saw the long list of patients I had, a long-ass list. I was seeing everyone back-to-back, and my appointment windows were very short. I grabbed the phone and called Sicily at her desk.
She answered. “Dr. Hamilton’s office. Sicily speaking. How can I help?”
“Why are my appointments so short?” I blurted.
“There’s a lot of demand for you—”
“I like to have plenty of time with each and every patient. I don’t rush through my appointments like other doctors. This isn’t feasible. You need to fix this.”
There was a pause before she calmly responded. “Dex, you have only so much time to see patients, and if I changed it back to what it was before, that would mean we’d have to cancel half of these patients, and they all need to see you.”
I sighed into the phone.
“I’ll be there in a second.”
I slammed the phone down, flustered she’d pulled this stunt.
She walked in a moment later and shut the door behind her.
“Look.” I rose to my feet behind the desk. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but this is how I do things. You can’t just go over my head and make these kinds of decisions when you don’t know shit about medicine.” I pointed my finger into my chest. “I’m the one taking care of these patients. I’m the one seeing them. I don’t like to be rushed. I like to give them the quality care they deserve.”
She slowly approached my desk, her hands together in front of her stomach. “I understand that—”
“I’m human, Sicily. I can’t just increase my pace because I feel like it. There’s a system to this. You can’t reduce appointment windows and shove people into the roster. That’s unacceptable—”
“Dex, can I defend myself now?” She raised her hands to silence me.
I released a long sigh.
“I wasn’t going to say anything because I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but you’ve heavily, heavily in demand. Once people started to realize you were back in the game, my inboxes exploded. I’ve had to turn away so many people who n
eed your care, listen to them sob and beg to get an appointment, and I have to tell them no, over and over again. Since your time is booked between research and your residents, there’s no more time. There’s literally not enough time for you to see everybody. I couldn’t condense the list even shorter. This was the only solution.”
“How am I supposed to do this many surgeries on this many patients?” I demanded. “These can be twelve-hour procedures—”
“I know, I know,” she said calmly. “But we’ll figure it out. I wanted to know if you would consider leaving your position at the research clinic. I know it’s unprofessional since they just hired you, but I think your time is better suited seeing patients.”
I dropped my chin and stared at the surface of the desk as I considered the suggestion, as I tried to prioritize my time. I shook my head. “I can’t do that.” I lifted my chin and looked up at her again. “It has nothing to do with professionalism. Research is critical for patient care in the future, innovations and solutions that will help patients for years to come. If the brightest minds aren’t working on this, then medicine isn’t evolving, practices aren’t improving. I can reduce my hours there, but I can’t remove it altogether. And my teaching position with the residents isn’t negotiable either because preparing the next generation of heart surgeons is just as important as the surgeries I do myself. Not to mention all my work that needs to be done through my charitable organization, which I haven’t considered until now.”
“I can do it for you. Utilize me as much as possible.”
I shook my head. “I have to do it. I have to make appearances and speeches to get new donors and inspire existing donors. Without that money, I can’t take care of a lot of these patients.”
Her eyes fell in defeat.
My hands were planted on the surface of the desk, so I straightened and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to find a solution to this. “This is what we’ll do. I’ll switch my schedule from two days a week to three. I’ll have the university cover my position with another physician for that day, and I’ll take research partners to fill in the day I’m missing. That will give us another day for patient care and my surgeries. I’ll also work half days on Saturday to see my patients.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What about Andrea?”
“I don’t need a nurse. I can do that stuff myself. And you don’t need to come in either. I can handle it.”
She was still surprised, her breathing slowly increasing. “I have no problem joining you, Dex. I just… I’m surprised you would sacrifice more of your time for this.”
I didn’t see any other solution. “There’s no other way.”
“But this still doesn’t fix the appointment time issue….”
No, it didn’t. There were too many patients and not enough time. Everyone wanted to see me because I seemed to be the only doctor in the country who actually gave a damn about them, which wasn’t fucking right. If other physicians actually had a heart, this wouldn’t be such a problem. “I realize that.”
“And you need to have a life, Dex. You deserve your own happiness.”
“Saving lives is my happiness.”
Her eyes softened. “But you’ll meet someone and settle down—”
“I’ll never meet someone and settle down. I don’t want a wife, and I don’t want kids. Ever.” I would spend my time making a difference, and whatever free time I had would be spent with my family and friends, the tail I picked up at the bar, and whatever else I could squeeze in. “My life is my work—and I’m fine with that.”
The day passed within the blink of an eye.
I saw patient after patient, and before I was done with the previous one, Andrea already had the next patient in one of the rooms, getting their vitals and everything else. Like clockwork, they cycled through, and I barely had two minutes in between to piss and drink my coffee.
It was not the way I wanted to run this practice.
But Sicily was right—there was no other way.
The alternative was to turn people away, and apparently, I was already doing that.
After the last patient left, I relaxed into the couch with my fingers interlocked together behind my head, looking at the ceiling for a moment, replaying everything that just happened.
The door opened, and Sicily came inside with food.
How did she take all my notes, run this office, and then go get me a hot meal?
She placed the container in front of me, chicken marsala with noodles, and then she opened a bottle of white wine and poured a glass.
All I could do was stare at her.
She answered my unspoken question. “I’m sure you’re starving.”
That fifteen-minute lunch I took wasn’t enough time for me to scarf down more than half a sandwich. “I just don’t know how you had time to do this.”
She gave a playful shrug but didn’t answer.
I set the food in my lap and ate, slicing the fork into the tender meat and placing it in my mouth.
She sat across from me and opened her laptop. “I thought we could take care of a couple things while you eat. I’ve got a few referrals from primaries, Roger from Kline Clinic sent over a couple of notes, and I have your surgery schedule for next week.”
“Alright.” I nodded and listened to everything she had to say, finding it much more relaxing to eat my dinner and talk to her about it than hunch over my desk and type all this out myself.
Having an assistant fucking rocked.
Made me realize I wouldn’t be able to do as much without her.
“Also, we do have one more client coming in today.” She finished typing and shut her laptop, wearing high-waisted jeans with a deep olive- green turtleneck, her dark hair pinned back loosely. She somehow managed to run around all day, take my notes, and still look like a supermodel while she did it.
“What do you mean?” I stopped eating because my muscles were stiff again. I was happy to help anyone who needed help, but I was looking forward to hitting the gym and then crashing on the couch right after I got out of the shower.
“It’s a VIP client,” she explained. “Wanted to come in when no one was else was in the office.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Was that on my schedule?”
“Yes.”
I must have been too focused on the next patient to care about the person coming in after hours. “Who is it?”
“They wouldn’t tell me. They had Andrea and me sign NDAs.”
“Do I need to sign one?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t ask. Your reputation proceeds you.”
I went back to eating. “When will they be here?”
“In about ten minutes. So, relax for a bit. I’ll let you know when they’re here.”
Sicily stepped through the open door with my new patient and his entourage.
With just one look, I knew exactly who he was.
Rock star, music legend Dylan Dubois. He got his start in the sixties, revolutionizing the music industry, selling millions and millions of records, going double platinum for all, and still selling out stadiums even though he’d just crossed into his seventies.
It was ironic—because I’d listened to his music last week on the treadmill.
But I couldn’t be a fan of my patients. I had to be professional, to make them feel like a regular person, that my focus was on their health and not their achievements. I plastered a smile on my face and extended my hand. “Mr. Dubois, it’s a pleasure.”
He took my hand and nodded. “The pleasure is mine, Dr. Hamilton.”
I just shook hands with a legend—no big deal.
Sicily moved to her corner chair, doing her best to push her lips tightly together to suppress her glee because she knew exactly who he was too.
A lady who liked rock music…sexy.
“Take a seat.” I gestured to the couch across from me.
He sat down and I did too.
His entourage excused themselves back to the lobby.
>
I nodded to Sicily. “This is my executive assistant. She takes notes so I can focus on our conversation.”
He gave her a slight nod in acknowledgment.
Her cheeks blushed bright red.
Dylan Dubois handed the folder of his paperwork to me.
I took it and opened it, looking through each page and organizing it on the coffee table. I normally had time to review all this before the patient arrived, but Dylan Dubois obviously didn’t want to risk faxing that over. “Just give me a couple minutes.”
Dylan sat with his arms on his knees, old tattoos on his forearms, and he scanned my office.
I grabbed the CDs of scans and popped them into the computer so I could pull up his imaging. I scrolled through, getting a good look at his heart, and then I returned to the couch across from him. “I agree with your cardiologist. A heart valve replacement is necessary. The longer we wait, the more at risk you are.”
Dylan gave a somber nod. “I know.”
“You want to move forward, then?”
He lifted his chin and looked at me. “I want to move forward with you. I was about to go under the knife with a surgeon in London, but I found out you were back in the game, so I pulled out at the last minute.”
Damn, word traveled fast. “Who was the surgeon?”
“Dr. Qual.”
“She’s good. Really good.” I’d met her a couple times, and I’d witnessed a few of her operations.
“She’s not you.”
I never knew what to say when a patient preferred me over a colleague, especially a colleague I actually respected. “I’m flattered by the confidence, but she’s just as good, I assure you. I’ve just done more surgeries than she has, but her education—”
“Then you are better. And she’s not in the room, so who gives a fuck. I want you. I’ve still got music to make, I just had a daughter two years ago, and people may think I’m old, but I’m just getting started.”
I smiled. “I like your outlook on life.”
The Doctor Who Has No Closure (Soulless Book 10) Page 2