“So, what? They’re just going to wait until he gets sick enough to need different care? This trial is happening now. It’s a serious shot at avoiding him getting that sick at all!”
“Or not. Today’s blood sugar crash notwithstanding, Mr. Riley’s health is stable, for now. Could a trial help him continue to stay that way? Of course, it’s possible. But it’s not certain, and it could be construed as an unnecessary and very expensive risk.” Rosenthal handed the tablet back to Tess, who was trying her very best not to give in to her desire to throw it. “Plus, you know most insurance plans deny coverage for trials, especially ones this extensive. Medication, monitoring, testing. For God’s sake, Tess, he’ll need a specialized home health care worker to come out three times a week at the outset.”
“Not all insurance denies coverage for trials like this,” Tess argued. “Ours doesn’t.”
“Neither one of us needs a kidney,” Rosenthal said gently.
Nope. No way. She wasn’t going to let go so easily. Not when she could help her patient get better. “He could at least try. Maybe they’d appeal. Maybe—”
“Maybe he’d get his hopes up for something that isn’t possible.”
Rosenthal delivered the words quietly. But staying quiet had never been Tess’s strong suit.
She’d be goddamned if she started now.
“There are lots of things that are impossible, Dr. Rosenthal. But getting Declan Riley into this trial so that he can have a healthy life while he waits for a kidney isn’t one of them. In your professional, medical opinion, does this trial have the potential to do that?”
“Well, yes, but—”
Tess knew—she knew—that cutting him off was brash. She did it anyway. “And do you think it gives him a better shot than his current treatment plan?”
“It definitely could, yes,” Rosenthal said.
And that was all Tess needed. “If it’s the best chance he has, I don’t care how impossible it seems. I’m going to get him the care that might save his life. Whether you help me or not.”
“I am an absolute fucking idiot.”
Just as she had before, Tess aimed the words at no one in particular. But unlike before, this time, she got an answer.
“You’re not an idiot,” Charlie said, pushing back against her chair in the attendings’ lounge, and her husband—also both her and Tess’s intern—Parker Drake, nodded his agreement.
“You’re just in an untenable position,” he said.
“If by ‘untenable’ you mean ‘shitty enough to be a level-three biohazard’, then yep. Untenable fits.”
Shitty was, in fact, bright-siding it. Although Rosenthal had agreed to quietly reach out to Dr. Gupta about the possibility of getting Declan into the trial, Tess had run into the exact obstacle she’d been afraid of; namely, that the VA wouldn’t touch the coverage with a fifty-foot pole.
There had to be a way around this, some way she could do her job and help her patient. She just needed to find it.
“Okay,” Charlie said. “So, the VA won’t cover this trial. What about a different one?”
Strike one. “There aren’t any Declan’s eligible for. Even then, the chances they’d be covered are iffy, at best.”
Parker looked up from the medical journal he’d been scanning in an effort to help. “Can Rosenthal adjust his meds, somehow? Maybe try a different therapy to slow the damage to his kidney?”
Strike two. “Rosenthal and Declan’s doctor from the VA already agree he’s getting the best care they can give him. For what it’s worth in the moment.”
“Which isn’t going to mean much in a year. Maybe sooner.” Charlie bit her lip. “There’s no way the VA would consider an appeal?”
Annnnnd strike three, you’re out. “I believe the exact phrase his doctor at the VA used had something to do with a snowball’s chance in hell.”
Dr. Trufant had been sympathetic when Tess had spoken with her. But all the sympathy in the galaxy wasn’t going to get Declan’s insurance to cover this trial.
Tess jammed a hand through her already messy ponytail and sighed. “She said exactly what Rosenthal thought she would. Declan’s current course of treatment would keep him stable, maybe they’d consider an appeal in a year if he worsens, blah blah. Like he’s not going to get worse in a year.”
“Okay, so that is likely,” Parker allowed. “But his glucose levels look good now, and he’s stable in this moment. Wasn’t it you who taught me to take your wins, minute by minute?”
“Seriously? You’re going to choose now to actually listen to my wisdom?”
Parker gave up the sort of grin that made it a whole shitload harder to be mad at him. “Now is when you need it, right? All I’m saying is, Declan’s not critical today. You have a little time to figure this out.”
“Damn little,” Tess muttered. Once Declan’s six-hour glucose check came back and his vitals continued to balance out, she’d have no choice but to release him. Which was great for his health right now. But in the end, she still wouldn’t be able to give him the care he needed. The care that might save his life in the long run, or at the very least, make it a whole lot healthier.
Hello, failure, my old friend…
Tess’s cell phone buzzed from the pocket of her doctor’s coat, and she palmed it, praying for a miracle.
Dr. Rosenthal: It took some doing, but Gupta said she’d take him. Need to know in 24 hours. Assuming you want to handle the ask?
“Oh,” Tess breathed, her pulse knocking at her throat.
“Is everything okay?” Charlie asked, and Tess bit back her frustration, albeit barely.
“Rosenthal got him into the trial. Damn it!” How could she have worked so hard, gotten so close, only to lose?
“Oh, Tess,” Charlie said. “I’m so sorry. You really did try everything.”
No. No, no, no. She might be sitting on a mountain of failures—wrong manners, wrong likes, wrong career specialty, wrong husband, wrong time to get pregnant—but she would not put Connor’s friend’s care on top of that pile.
She was only good at one thing. There had to be a way. There had to be—
Oh. Oh. Holy shit.
There was a way. Crazy, yes. Unconventional, definitely.
But it was a way, and if it worked, Declan would get the care he needed.
“Not everything,” Tess said, bolting up from her chair, her heart in her throat and her mind made up.
“Where are you going?” Parker asked, and Tess typed out a lightning-fast reply to Rosenthal before squaring her shoulders and starting for the door.
“I’m going to make the impossible happen.”
6
Declan was floating. No, wait. He was being carried. It didn’t feel like before, though—no urgency. No clipped voices, no foggy detachment from his body. In fact, he was keenly aware of all of his body, his heart beating a steady rhythm, his skin tingling, muscles loose. Warmth surrounding him like a memory, arms cradling him close. I’ve got you, this touch said. Declan gave in to the sensation, wanting more of the calm he found there, of how purely good it made him feel.
All too quickly, his need for more grew primal, his body hot. He reached out to return the embrace he’d felt only seconds earlier, to lose himself inside it entirely, but the arms that had felt so secure had loosened, letting him fall faster and faster. Panic threatened, but no, the arms hadn’t let go. They were there, around him again, holding him tight with promise.
Declan, came a voice, feminine and strong. It’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up. Wake up…
He blinked his eyes open and instantly became aware of two things. One, he’d been dreaming, not floating.
And two? His body was definitely coming back online, because he was sporting a significant hard-on beneath his gown and hospital blankets.
Oh, and news flash: his smart, sexy doctor was standing at his bedside, eyeing him with concern that bordered on critical.
Fucking hell.
“Hey. There you are,” she said,
her expression relaxing as he gained focus. No easy task, mind. He rarely slept all that much, let alone dreamt. But letting his guard down—especially around this woman, who was trained to see everything—wasn’t on his agenda.
“Doc,” he managed, shifting the blankets for maximum coverage and wishing like mad he had access to a toothbrush. “Just couldn’t stay away from me, I see.”
Her fingers flew back from where she’d placed them over his shoulder, making Declan curse his stupidity.
“You’re my patient. Or, I guess, you were.” Tess glanced down at the street clothes Declan belatedly realized she’d changed into, and damn, she made jeans and a T-shirt look just as good as scrubs. “Anyway, my shift is over, and Connor and Harlow needed to get something to eat. So I said I’d stay with you, just in case you woke up. How are you feeling?”
Declan tested his body out, shifting and scanning as the residual memory of his dream faded back where it belonged. “A bit tired. Otherwise, okay.” Hungry, now that he thought of it. They’d managed his glucose levels through the IV, but he hadn’t actually eaten anything since zero dark thirty this morning.
Damn. He didn’t even know what time it was now. The events of the day, and all the revelations and realizations that had accompanied them, washed back over him one by one, making his gut clench with unease.
He should have known better than to hope he’d find answers here.
Tess placed a container of orange juice on the tray at his bedside, along with a bag of pretzels, moving both within his reach. “You slept for a while. You must be hungry.”
“Is this a peace offering, then?” Declan asked. He knew better than to flirt with her, especially since she was smart enough to flay him alive with her words alone. But she was pretty when her cheeks flushed, and as she’d said, she was no longer on the clock. That meant she was no longer his doctor.
So why did she still have that look of determination in her light brown stare?
“Nope,” Tess said, pulling a sandwich wrapped in clear plastic out from the bag where she’d gotten the juice and pretzels. “It’s a bribe. Eat it, and in thirty minutes, if your vitals are stable, Dr. Rosenthal will sign off on your release.”
Surprise moved through Declan on a swift path. “I didn’t think you’d let go of the trial thing so easily,” he admitted, reaching for the juice and taking a healthy swallow.
The way Tess’s shoulders crowded her spine was a dead giveaway of what she said next. “I didn’t. In fact, there’s a perfect trial for patients who have been diagnosed with diabetic nephropathy right here in Remington.”
Declan’s defenses yanked into full alert, squashing the hope that had instinctively flickered in his chest. “There is.”
It wasn’t a question, but Tess answered anyway. “Yep.” She pulled a second container of orange juice out of the bag, giving it a shake and popping it open for a sip, and in that moment, Declan would’ve given his left nut to be a straw. “The treatment requires a lot of meds and supervision, but it looks really promising.”
“And the VA will cover all that?”
“Not…exactly.”
“Not exactly?” Declan repeated. “Or not at all?”
Tess breezed right past his question, stunning him with, “The doctor running the trial—Dr. Gupta—said she’d take you starting next week. She’s a very well-regarded nephrologist.”
His pulse stuttered. “You got me in?”
“It took some doing, but—”
“I didn’t say I wanted that.”
Declan heard the gravel in his words only after he’d uttered them, the gruff harshness anyone else would shy away from.
Not Tess. “You didn’t say you didn’t.”
Ah, hell. Of course, she was right.
As if his silence said so, she continued. “Look, I know all of this must be really overwhelming, and you’ve already been through a lot in the last six months. But this trial is the best shot you have at wellness while you wait for a kidney. I wouldn’t have fought so hard to get you in if I thought anything else would work nearly as well.”
Declan processed her words. Processed them again, and…shit. He might know better than to think hope ever amounted to much, but he couldn’t deny she was right. Even Connor had said a trial was likely to be Declan’s best option, and he’d come seeking his friend’s advice. Defenses or not, he wasn’t a dolt when it came to his wellness.
Still. “Fine. That doesn’t change the fact that the VA doesn’t cover it.”
“They don’t,” Tess said, putting down her juice and looking him square in the eye. She was direct, and Christ, it was a turn-on like nothing else. “But I think I’ve found a way around that.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s…not exactly conventional,” she warned, but Declan laughed, unsurprised.
“You did say you’re not really a protocol girl, didn’t you?”
Tess’s laugh was a direct translation of you have no idea. “Yeah. Well, your insurance might not cover this trial, but mine does.”
Declan’s brows lowered in confusion. “That’d be grand if you needed the treatment.”
“Or if my husband did.”
Declan waited a beat. Replayed her words to make sense of them. Then—
“You can’t be serious.”
Her face flushed all the way to her ears as she took a step back from his bedside. “It would be in name only, of course. I’d never expect…you wouldn’t have any obligation. Just a legality, in the strictest sense. Then, when the treatment is done, we’d part ways, no harm, no foul.”
He tried to get his head around it. He really did, but nope. “Let me get this right. You want ta marry me so I can get this treatment.”
“What, do you want me to get down on one knee?” Tess asked, clamping her lower lip between her teeth as if she hadn’t meant for the response to fly out. “It would only be a technicality, but yes. For a while, we’d be legally married.”
“Hell of a technicality,” Declan said. Not one most people took lightly.
Yet Tess remained utterly no-nonsense. “Not really. In this case, it’s entirely practical. We’re both single. I have great insurance, with coverage you need. I can even help manage your medication schedule throughout the trial, if you’d like. Rosenthal and Gupta would be your doctors, so there’s no conflict there. Most importantly, this would give you access to care that’s very likely to keep you healthy while you wait for a kidney. It’s really the only way.”
No less than a thousand thoughts ricocheted through Declan’s brain. Finally, he settled on, “You don’t think marrying someone you’re not in love with is a bit dishonest?”
And here, her stare grew certain. “I don’t, actually. Is a marriage of convenience bending the rules a little to get you the coverage you need? Maybe. But we’d really be married, so it’s not fraud. That, I wouldn’t do. It’s more like an agreement.”
“Still legal,” he pointed out. “Like you said, we’d really be married.”
“I know that carries a lot of significance for most people,” Tess said after a pause Declan couldn’t decipher. “But not for me. You don’t have to worry that I’ll look at it as anything other than a piece of paper. A legal agreement that’ll get you what you need.”
He lifted a brow. “A bit jaded, no?”
“Honey, you have no idea.” She laughed, and somewhere between the sound and his surprise, the tension in Declan’s shoulders lightened. “Anyway, marriage doesn’t mean anything to me in the traditional sense. I’m not exactly the type for all the hearts and flowers and grand gestures. I’m fine with it if you are.”
So, so much to unspool there. Declan tilted his head to look at her. “And how d’you know I’m not some crazy person you’d never want to be associated with?”
“Because Connor vouched for you.” She held up her cell phone. “That, and I Googled the crap out of you while you slept. Dual citizenship. Born in the U.S. Raised in Ireland. Moved back to
the U.S. when you were fourteen. No outstanding warrants, no arrests. You’ve never even gotten a parking ticket. The Internet is a handy thing. You’re welcome to Google me, too, but I have to confess. I’ve had a couple of parking tickets. Otherwise, I’m fairly normal.”
Declan wanted to be impressed at her thoroughness. Probably, he should get over his balls-out shock, first, though. This couldn’t be regular behavior for her. “So, d’you propose to all your patients who need care they can’t get, or am I just special?”
“You’re…” Tess trailed off. For a second, Declan wasn’t sure she’d continue, but then, she did.
“Look, it’s pretty rare that I have a patient I can’t treat. Not that I have a patient who’s too sick or injured to save. I run a busy, urban ED, so unfortunately, from time to time, I lose someone.” At that, something flickered through her stare, like sadness, only deeper, but she brazened her way past it. “But you’re different. The only thing standing in the way of you getting the treatment that will help you is a technicality, and I’m a doctor. It’s my job to help you in every way I can. I know it’s highly unorthodox. But you don’t have to be one of those patients I can’t help. I don’t have to lose you.”
A ripple moved through him, all the way under the bed sheets, under his gown and under his skin. “It’d be pretty fucking crazy,” he said, not unkindly, and a small, wistful smile slipped over Tess’s mouth.
“A little. But it wouldn’t be real. It’s a means to an end, that’s all.”
For just a breath, Declan wondered what had happened to this woman that she’d have such a jaded view of marriage. But reality was, he wasn’t exactly the marrying sort, either—not in the true sense of the word. Falling in love, finding that kind of happiness, a person to belong with, to belong to? He’d sooner believe he could sprout wings and fly to the moon.
Or that a woman he barely knew but somehow trusted would propose in order for him to get the medical treatment that seemed to be his only option at staying healthy until a kidney showed up to save his life.
“How would this work, then?”
Beyond Just Us (Remington Medical Book 4): A Single Parent Marriage of Convenience Romance Page 5
