“He did?” I ask, unable to hide my shock. Dr. Crawford is a renowned surgeon offering a highly competitive trauma fellowship. I hardly got a few words in with the guy. I’m honestly surprised he remembered me at all, let alone got an impression.
“Yes. And I told him you are one of the most promising resident surgeons I’ve seen in a long time. He was quite impressed to know you were performing Whipples indistinguishable from your attending.”
We start moving down the hall.
“Don’t tell him that mine were better,” I joke, though it’s true.
“I’m happy to write you a letter of recommendation,” she goes on. “If you do apply for the fellowship—and I think you should—let me know. I hate to see you leave my hospital, but you’re a damn good surgeon. This is the right path for you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Miller.”
She gives a curt nod. “Of course.”
We go in opposite directions, and as I get into the elevator to go to the cafeteria, my head starts to hurt. My very first thought was to call Quinn and tell her the good news. Only…is this news good? Following my career goals has been everything to me. Surgery has been my life for the last several years, and I’ve been dedicated to being a doctor since I got into college.
It was my life.
Do I really want to work long, crazy hours for two or three more years? I’ll have to start a job search after that, and who knows where I could end up. Though with the more schooling I get, the more I’ll earn and the easier it’ll be to find a place that’ll want me.
Yes, all that was my life before. But now my life has something greater in it, and for the first time ever, I’m completely torn on which way to go.
9
Quinn
I take off my heels and reach inside my dress, unclasping my bra. It’s Wednesday night and I just got back from dinner. I’m dying to call Archer and let him know how things went, but he went in for surgery an hour before I left and said he’d call once he was out, and I still haven’t heard from him. I never realized how much surgeons work until I started dating Archer. No wonder they make so much money.
I slip my bra off, breathing in relief as soon as it hits the ground. I turn on the TV and feed the cats, then sink down on the couch with my phone in hand. Dad texted me during dinner, asking how I was feeling. I reply to him and search through Netflix for something to watch.
I’m dozing off when my phone rings. It’s still on silent from dinner, and it takes me a minute to locate it under the blanket I’m snuggled up in. It doesn’t help that Neville’s fat butt is laying on top of it.
“Wes?” I mumble when I see his name. It’s late. Why is he calling me? Panic instantly sets in and I answer quickly, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Aunt Winnie,” Jackson’s little voice comes through the phone. Oh, thank God. Nothing is wrong. He just took Wes’s phone and called me. He does this from time to time.
“Hey, buddy. What are you still doing up?”
“Daddy had to catch bad guys. I was at Grammy’s house.”
“I bet you had fun. Are you supposed to be asleep?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s your dad?” I ask with a laugh. Jackson doesn’t answer me, and I hear him shuffling around. Then the phone beeps as he FaceTimes me. Seeing his face makes me instantly smile.
“You look pretty, Aunt Winnie.”
“Awww, thanks, Jackson. And you look cute.”
He scowls. “I’m not cute. I’m handsome like Daddy.”
“Oh, you are for sure. You’re growing up too fast, mister.”
He starts showing me his new toys and a minute later Wes comes in, asking who he’s talking to.
“Oh, hey, Quinn,” he says, taking the phone.
“Glad it’s just me?”
Wes widens his eyes and nods. “Yeah. It could have been you-know-who. Though I don’t know if that’s even her number anymore.”
He’s talking about his wife, who ran out on them two years ago and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. I’m not one to hate people, but I fucking hate that bitch Daisy.
“You’re dressed up,” Wes comments. “Did Archer take you out?”
“No, I went out with a rich old guy and his boyfriend,” I say seriously.
“That’s interesting. Did they at least buy you an expensive dinner?”
“My meal alone was over a hundred bucks. If I could drink wine, I would have ordered the three-hundred-dollar glass.”
Wes laughs. “Sounds nice. I’m guessing it was for work?”
“Yeah. And the boyfriend is actually a professor at MIT. Not one I had, but he remembers me and wants me to come speak at graduation next year.”
“Wow, that’s awesome, sis!”
“Thanks. I’m not sure if I’ll do it. You know how I hate people and public speaking, and graduation will have both.” I shift my weight, getting comfy on the couch. I need to get up and shower, but I’m too tired to move. And Neville is snuggled up with me. It’s basically a crime to move him. “But, I know how encouraging it can be to hear my tale or whatever.”
“So you agreed to it?”
I wrinkle my nose and nod. “I have a year to fret over this. Maybe I’ll get Archer to prescribe me Xanax or something.”
Wes laughs. “Logan said things are going good between you and Archer.”
“Yeah. Very good.” I’m unable to keep the smile off my face when I think of Archer. Jackson tries to take the phone back, jibber-jabbering away about how he likes playing cars with Archer. Wes tells him he can’t have the phone, and a crying fit breaks out. Hardly able to hear anything over the fuss, I tell Wes and Jackson goodnight and hang up.
It takes me another twenty minutes to muster up the energy to get up and get into the shower. My thoughts are on Archer and I bring my hand down, sweeping it over my clit. It sends a jolt through me, and I rinse off quickly, wrap a towel around myself, and get into bed. Reaching over to my nightstand, I open the top drawer to find my vibrator that I keep stashed under a folded pile of old t-shirts I never wear.
And then Archer calls. I pull the covers up over me just enough to stay warm and answer.
“Perfect timing,” I say, closing my eyes and thinking of Archer’s body on mine.
“For what?” he asks, and his deep voice turns me on even more.
“I just got out of the shower and am really horny. I was going to pleasure myself.”
“Fuck, Quinn.” Archer lets out his breath. “I’m still at work.”
“That’s not my problem. I’m at home. In my bed. Naked and wet from the shower.”
“You’re killing me, you know that, right? I can’t go back into the OR with a hard-on.”
I giggle. “I’ll wait until you’re off the phone to start then. I don’t want you to get in trouble for rubbing one out in the break room or something.”
“I might not even get that far. Fuck, I want your pussy.”
“Keep talking like that, Dr. Jones, and I won’t be able to wait. Actually, are you done with work yet? You were in surgery for a really long time.”
“Six and a half hours,” he sighs. “Perforated bowel from a bike accident. It was a mess.”
“Is the patient okay?”
“He will be. I fixed him up.”
“You’re not done for the day though?”
“Not yet. I have to do rounds on my patients. I had to take a break and get something to eat. And talk to you.”
“I could totally make a joke about me and eating, but I want you to be able to concentrate on work.”
“Thanks, though the visual is there now and it makes me miss you even more.”
“That was my mission. To make you miss me and give you blue balls.”
“Mission accomplished,” he says and puts something in the microwave. “You know a good thing about having my parents in town? My mom brought me dinner.”
“That is nice. I miss my mom’s cooking.”
“
Speaking of dinner,” Archer says. “How was dinner?”
“Good!” I cuddle down under my covers and tell him about it. Then he’s paged and has to hurry back inside to the OR. I trade my phone for my vibrator and think of Archer.
I sit at my desk, drumming my fingers on the surface as I scan through a file that was just sent to me. It’s nearing lunchtime, and I’m both starving and nauseous. Again. Supposedly this feeling will go away, but right now, I’m convinced it’s my new normal and I’ll always feel like I’m going to throw up, even after this kid is born.
Archer is off today and is hopefully still sleeping. He texted me on his way home, which wasn’t until two a.m. I didn’t see his text until I got up in the morning. I forgot the Zofran at home this morning, and I don’t think I can win this battle against my sour stomach. Leaning back in my chair, I debate on getting up and barfing in the bathroom or staying here and hope no one sees me leaning over the trashcan next to my desk.
Closing my eyes, I rest a hand over my stomach and pray neither has to happen. My office phone beeps. Feebly, I reach up and hit the button to put it on speaker.
“Ms. Dawson?” Charlene’s overly sweet voice rings out. She uses what Marissa and I call her ‘office-fake’ voice when she calls me.
“Yes?” My eyes are still closed, and I don’t move.
“There’s a delivery for you.”
“Can you bring them back?” Normally, I’ll go up and get any sort of delivery myself, but barfing in the lobby wasn’t on my list of options.
“I’ll be right there.”
I take a deep breath, grab my water and take a few small sips and feel a bit better. I expect the delivery to be a computer part I ordered yesterday, not a big bouquet of yellow and white flowers. I don’t need to read the card to know they’re from Archer.
“You must have a secret admirer,” Charlene says as she sets the vase down.
“He’s not secret.” I’m smiling as I stand, reaching for the card. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.” Her fake voice reaches a new level of pitch. “Is it Jacob again?”
I open the little envelope and pull out the card. If I were dating anyone else, it wouldn’t seem weird to mention him. Though given the fact Rene is Charlene’s best friend and she tried to hook up with Archer, it feels like I’m name dropping in a way. “No.” I look up and smile. “It’s Archer.”
She blinks, trying to put things together. Archer isn’t the most common name, but it’s not unheard of either.
“The guy we introduced you to?”
It was obvious Archer and I knew each other before then, but that’s the kind of subtle bitch Charlene is.
“I’ve known Archer for years. He’s my brother’s friend and we recently started going out.”
“Oh. Nice.” She waits for me to continue, but there’s nothing more to say to her. She’s never cared about my personal life and the same with me about hers.
“Thanks for bringing the flowers back here.”
She fakes another smile before leaving, and I sit back down, feeling slightly less nauseous with the distraction of the flowers, and read Archer’s card.
Quinn-
Ten years ago I overheard you say roses are cliché. I hope you still think so.
-Archer
I read the card three times, smiling harder each time. I center them on the accent table that sits in front of a large window and call Archer.
He answers after three rings and sounds like he just woke up.
“I got the flowers. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t go crying on me now.”
I blink back tears. “I can’t help it. It’s all the hormones.”
Archer laughs softly. “As long as we don’t talk about eagles you should be fine, right?”
“Don’t get me started on that,” I laugh. “When did you have time to send me flowers? You’ve been working nonstop.”
“Yesterday.”
My heart swells in my chest and the doubts I had about my feelings start to go out the window. “Thank you again. It made my day and now I can’t stop smiling.”
“That’s what I hoped for.”
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry if I did.”
“You didn’t. My mom called about half an hour ago and woke me up.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I can hear the annoyance in his voice just from one little word. “Bobby is being released. They’re taking him back home and getting him into rehab again.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s pointless,” he sighs, and a few seconds of silence tick by. “How are you feeling today?”
“Like I’m going to throw up at any second,” I confess. “I forgot the Zofran at home too.”
“I’m sorry, babe. What about your wrist?”
I look down at the messily wrapped ACE bandage. “Still the same.” It’s actually a little worse, but I don’t want to tell Archer that and make him feel bad. It’s my fault anyway. I unwrapped it and tried to type. I’m a fast typer and only using one hand is annoyingly slow. We talk for a while longer until I have to get back to work.
When I do, I have a hard time concentrating. Time goes by slowly, and when the end of the day arrives, I’m so ready to go home. I’m debating on taking the flowers home or leaving them here when someone knocks on my office door. Turning around, I see Jacob. He waves and steps in.
“Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say.
“I was passing by and was hoping to talk to you.” He leans against the wall, eyeing the flowers behind me.
“Sure. What about?”
He flashes a smile, looking a little nervous. “Do you have plans tonight? I hoped we could talk about it over dinner.”
“She has plans with me,” Marissa says, peering into my office from the hall. “Sorry. I mean, if you want to crash our girls’ night, you can. But be prepared to talk about periods and how awful men can be.”
Jacob turns and I mouth thank you to Marissa. “Oh, I don’t want to infringe.”
“Another time,” I say and then realize that might be leading him on. Though I don’t know why going to dinner, paying for my own food, and talking and having a nice time as friends is leading him on. Men can be friends with women. Not all men look at women as sexual objects put here to tempt them into eternal damnation.
“Okay,” Jacob says with a smile. “I’ll be out of town for the next few weeks, so I’ll get ahold of you when I get back.”
“If you’re taking a long vacation I’m totally jealous.”
“One of those few weeks is vacation. I’m leading a training group in California.”
“Fun.”
He makes a face. “I know, right? Now, if this were January and I got to go away somewhere warm, that would be a different story.”
I trade my shoes for a more comfortable pair to walk in and grab my purse. Jacob takes a step back and walks along with me to the lobby. Marissa is waiting, and the three of us get in the elevator together, along with a handful of others. I get slight anxiety when so many people cram in. Just wait for the next one. It’s not like it’s that long of a wait. If we got stuck all crammed in here like sardines, I’d probably have a panic attack.
Jacob goes the opposite direction, and I thank Marissa again.
“No problem. But I really do think we should do something tonight.”
“Want to come over? I have a lot of wine I can’t drink and I kind of want to order a pizza.”
“You had me at wine.”
I put my hand over my stomach, feeling that dull ache come back. It’s not sharp or shooting like it was before, which matched the description of round ligament pain that I read about on the internet. It’s more like an impending period cramp mixed with an I-have-to-poop kind of cramp. Having a crampy stomach when I need to go isn’t anything new for me, but right now, I’m having a hard time distinguishi
ng which part of me is actually hurting.
Marissa just left, and I’m doing laundry while talking to Mom on the phone. She’s checking in like she always does, and only mentions the gender reveal party fifty times. I fold the last of my towels and set the stack on top of my coffee table. Luna jumps up and sits on them, knocking the stack over. I purse my lips and look at her, shaking my head.
“So,” I interject the moment there’s a lull in the conversation. “I met Archer’s brother.”
“Robert? How’s he doing? I feel bad to say I haven’t asked about him in years.”
“Not too well. I didn’t know how bad off he was. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I wouldn’t say we deliberately didn’t tell you, but it didn’t directly concern you and you were rather young when Archer first started staying with us.”
I look at Neville and roll my eyes. My parents and my brothers have always been overprotective. Though I’m being biased right now because Archer is my boyfriend.
“And Archer never wanted to talk about it. I never knew the full details, honey.”
“Oh, I thought you did.”
“He let us know what was going on the first time he stayed with us, and we could tell how uncomfortable it made him to talk about it. We told him he didn’t need to explain. He knew he was welcome whenever, and Dean would simply text me and tell me if he was bringing Archer back with him when he left home. We knew Robert struggled and didn’t want Archer to feel like he owed us an explanation.”
And now I’m suddenly emotional by my mother welcoming Archer with no questions asked. I hope I’m at least half as good a mother as she is.
“Boots!” Mom yells at one of her dogs. “Drop it. Drop it. I said drop it.” Dog tags jingle and one of the other dogs bark. “He’s been terrible with getting things out of the garbage lately.”
That’s why I like cats. They’re much easier.
“I’m going to have to call you back.” Mom sighs heavily. “I need to pick up this trash before your father gets in the house. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too.”
End Game Page 8
