by Amy Vastine
“Well, I’m going to ask him to be my date to Kendall’s wedding. You’ll see for yourself that there are doctors out there who would make perfectly acceptable mates.” At least that was the plan, and Emma’s plans always worked out.
* * *
SHOWING UP TO a shift with a new hairdo meant spending the first hour of work answering the same question: “Did you get your hair cut?” As if it wasn’t obvious. Emma dreaded people’s reaction to her cut.
She found out quickly that a dramatic change like hers didn’t lead to questions but rather exclamations that served no other purpose than to inform her of the fact that her hair was gone. As if she might not be aware.
“Whoa! You cut your hair off!” Bobby, the night-shift nurse, was the first to express his surprise.
“I did.”
Just then, Tammy walked into the ER. She almost dropped the cup of coffee she was holding. “Oh, my gosh! Emma, your hair is gone!”
“It’s not all gone,” Emma said defensively, swiping her bangs out of her face.
“I love it,” Tammy said, coming over to touch it as if it wasn’t real. “Do you love it?”
“I like it. It’s going to take some getting used to, I guess. It feels so weird to wash it. That’s when it feels like nothing’s there.”
“Holy cow, Emma has no hair.” Tessa set her tablet on the counter, mouth agape. “I loved your hair. I can’t believe you cut it off,” she whined.
“Who cut what off?” Another one of the night-shift nurses joined the conversation.
“Emma cut her hair off,” Tammy answered.
“Whoa.” The nurse blinked twice.
“Doesn’t it look great?” Tammy gave her a look that clearly conveyed she better agree.
“It’s super cute, but it’s so short.” Tessa frowned and played with the little hair Emma had left. “Your hair never got frizzy even in this wretched humidity. It was shiny and perfect. I had total hair envy. My hair used to live vicariously through your hair. You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”
Emma dropped her chin. “Seriously? It will grow back. I donated it to Beautiful Lengths.”
“Why do you have to be so good?” Tessa swatted her on the arm. “If I had your hair, I would have kept it for myself and never given it up.”
She made Emma laugh. “You’re the most selfish person I have ever met.”
“But you love me anyway, right?”
Emma smiled and shook her head. She needed to talk to Bobby and go over the shift-change report. She wanted to find out which patients she was going to be dealing with this morning.
“Ambulance is on its way. Should be here in five,” the intake nurse announced, causing everyone to forget all about Emma’s hair.
“Page Dr. Spencer,” Tessa said, picking up her tablet.
Emma and Tammy agreed to take the incoming trauma. They prepped the room and in less than five minutes, Charlie and his partner were wheeling in the patient.
Charlie rattled off the facts he had. The young man on the stretcher had been riding his bike to work and was struck by a car. He had a broken leg and a possible broken arm, along with multiple abrasions and a possible head injury.
Scott showed up to assist Tessa. Emma noticed him do a double take when he saw her. At least he didn’t announce she’d cut her hair in the middle of a trauma case. They worked to stabilize the man and take X-rays so he could be taken for a CT and eventually to surgery to repair his broken bones. The orthopedic attending showed up and offered to let Dr. Spencer scrub in on the surgery. Tessa shot that idea down. She needed her intern to stay in the ER.
When Emma finished cleaning up, she found Charlie and Scott standing at the nurses’ station. “Rough morning for that guy,” she said as she came up behind them.
“You can say that again.” Scott turned around first. He stared at her, obviously aware of the length of her hair, but unlike everyone else, he said nothing. Did he love it? Did he hate it? Why wasn’t he saying anything?
Charlie faced her, that easy smile on his face. “I love the new look, Nightingale,” he said without hesitation. “You’re gorgeous.”
The butterflies in Emma’s stomach fluttered ever so slightly. She swallowed down some of her worry. “Thanks, Charlie. I donate my hair every year to mark the day my mom’s breast cancer took her hair but not her spirit.”
“That’s awesome,” Charlie said, reaching up to move some hair out of her eyes. Emma’s butterflies tickled her insides. “My niece had leukemia when she was eight. Losing her hair was a huge hit to her self-esteem. She would have loved a wig.”
Scott cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s really sweet of you. Those places give wigs to kids with alopecia and burns, too.”
“I didn’t know that,” Emma said, self-consciously raking her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. Having the attention of both Charlie and Scott was more than she could stand.
“I worked in the Burn Unit at my last hospital. Some of the toughest work I’ve ever done.”
Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets. “There’s nothing more gut-wrenching than trying to care for someone with burns. Those are always our most harrowing rescues.”
The conversation suddenly turned into a competition. “You’re lucky all you have to do is drive the patient to the hospital,” Scott said. “I don’t know who has it worse, the firefighters who rescue a burn patient or the doctors who have to try to ease their pain.”
Charlie gave him a curious look. “Right. Because all we ‘ambulance drivers’ do is drive the ambulance.”
Emma found herself feeling protective of Charlie. She had a lot of respect for EMTs and paramedics, but they didn’t always get it from everyone else. “Paramedics are in the trenches with the firefighters. We all know that. Plus, I think the burn victims have it the worst. If we’re voting.”
“Of course.” Scott cleared his throat again and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Well, forgive me if you catch me doing a double take when I see you. Your new look is going to take some getting used to.”
“I won’t hold it against you.” Emma was unsure if that meant he liked it or not. Scott gathered up his things and went to check on another patient.
“Isn’t he charming?” Charlie said, watching him go.
“He’s a nice guy,” Emma said in Scott’s defense. “He didn’t mean anything by that comment.”
“Sure he didn’t,” Charlie said, clearly unconvinced. His eyes flashed with understanding, as if all of a sudden something dawned on him. “Is that the guy? The one you told me about the other day?”
Emma stiffened, praying no one had heard him. She should never have confided in him. Charlie made it too easy. Talking to him was like talking to someone she’d been friends with her whole life.
“Let’s keep things professional when we’re working, okay?”
Charlie set his hands on his hips. His eyes fell to the floor between them and his jaw tightened. “Sure.”
The tickle she had felt in her stomach earlier was now replaced by a hundred-pound weight. Guilty as she might feel, Emma needed to find Bobby and go over the shift-change report. Working and seeing patients was her best shot at turning this morning around. No one visiting the ER today would have any idea what her hair had looked like two days ago or would care who she had a crush on. The best part about working in the ER was people came and went. Every day was something new.
She left Charlie standing by the desk with his head hanging low. Why did it bother her so much that he seemed upset? Why did it matter what Scott and Charlie thought about her hair? Charlie and Scott were not on the same playing field. Falling in love with Scott was Emma’s destiny. Her plan was well thought-out and made perfect sense.
She glanced back at Charlie. Their eyes met for the briefest of moment
s and that little flutter was back. She gave her belly a pat. She must need to eat something, she told herself. Any other reason for this physical reaction was preposterous. There was no changing destiny.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“ARE YOU READY for the invasion of the drama queens in a few weeks?” Charlie’s sister Becca was checking in.
“I’m ready to hang with you. Does that count?”
“I am so not a drama queen.”
She was right. Becca was cool. She avoided drama at all costs. Her personality was similar to Charlie’s. She was laid-back and easy to get along with. Her husband was a forest ranger in Colorado while she worked as a ski instructor at Winter Park. They didn’t have kids yet but were trying. It had been taking longer than she liked, but Becca took every setback in stride.
She was the complete opposite of their sister Kristin. The family had received daily updates on her fertility struggles when she was trying to get pregnant. Charlie knew more about his sister’s fallopian tubes than anyone other than her gynecologist should know.
“You still planning on staying here?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind and made arrangements to bunk at their parents’ house. She was coming by herself since it was next to impossible for her husband to get time off in the summer.
“Of course I am,” she reassured him. “There is no way I would survive anywhere else. I need you to keep me sane.”
“Good. I need you, too.” He didn’t mean it in the same way she did. He’d make it through this party and all the family turmoil that was sure to come with it. He needed his big sister to tell him there was still hope for a nice guy like him. He needed her to tell him that he wasn’t destined to be stuck in the friend zone forever. One day, there would be a woman who would choose him over some guy who didn’t even know how to give the most beautiful girl in the world a compliment.
“Are you okay? You sound funny.”
“I’m fine.” He sighed, a sure sign he wasn’t.
“Come on, tell the ski bum all about it,” she encouraged.
He hadn’t planned to get into it over the phone, but she’d asked for it. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“That question is just begging for a mean answer. You’re killing me here.” The two of them had the most playful relationship in the family. They teased and tortured one another, but it was always in good fun. Becca was hilarious and made Charlie laugh more than anyone he knew.
He wasn’t in a joking mood, however. “Seriously. There has to be something fundamentally wrong with me to make me so undatable. Is my job not fancy enough? Do I lack some quality that makes other guys that much more desirable?”
“Hold up. You are not undatable. You date all the time. Everyone loves you, Charlie. What’s not to love?”
Everyone loved him, but no one was in love with him. Women loved him like a brother. They didn’t fall in crazy, head-over-heels love with him. The kind of love Emma was so desperate to find with Dr. Not-That-Charming.
“I don’t know,” Charlie lamented.
“Is there someone specific breaking your heart right now? Because I am going to be there sooner than later and I am not afraid to fight a girl.”
Charlie laughed in spite of himself. “There might be someone, but I still like her too much to let you get your hands on her.” All he wanted was to understand what she saw in a guy like that. “She’s falling for some doctor. I’m too nice, too blue collar, too not what she wants.”
“Listen here, little brother. You are not too anything except awesome. Don’t get hung up on a chick who doesn’t see a good thing when it’s right in front of her. You deserve someone who adores you,” Becca said as if she believed that person existed. “You have the patience of a saint, Charlie. You grew up in a house of crazy girls and you still respect women. You are generous in every way. I have seen you literally give the shirt off your back to a person in need.”
“One time. The guy was freezing and I had another shirt underneath it.”
Becca snorted. “Did I forget to mention you’re ridiculously humble, as well?”
“Someone would be lucky to have me, right?” He’d heard it all before. He was a great catch, a supernice guy. But that never seemed to matter in the long run. Women wanted dream guys with respectable jobs—doctors, lawyers, financial wizards. Paramedics didn’t get the same kind of respect. That had never bothered Charlie as much as it did now.
“I’m coming to town and kicking this girl’s butt, whoever she is. I will find her and I will hurt her for crushing you. My Charlie doesn’t get depressed. My Charlie is the guy who believes anything is possible.”
“Your Charlie knows you aren’t going to beat anybody up. Not that I don’t believe you could,” he clarified. “I still have nightmares about the time you proved to be the strongest person in the world.”
When he was ten and she was fifteen, Becca had wrestled him to the ground and pinned him down until he admitted she was the strongest person in the world. When he wouldn’t do it, she’d threatened to spit on him. She’d managed to get a long strand of drool to hang an inch from his nose before he finally gave up and said it.
She was probably smiling ear to ear right now. That was the kind of thing that would make a tomboy like Becca proud.
“I’m glad I left an impression on you when we were young,” she said before turning serious. “I won’t beat anyone up, but please believe this—there is someone out there in this crazy world who’s made for you. Keep your eyes and heart open, little brother.”
He would try. But it was getting harder and harder.
* * *
PETE AND HIS WIFE had invited Charlie, Emma, Max and Kendall over for dinner to sample what they could do in the kitchen. For the first time, Charlie was happy to have Max and Kendall as a buffer. Being alone with Emma had become more like torture instead of a thrill. He did not want to hear a single thing about Dr. Not-That-Charming. Any mention of him could send Charlie over the edge.
The O’Reillys’ house was in the Bridgeport neighborhood, home to many of the South Side Irish. Bridgeport’s claim to fame was being the home of both former Mayor Daleys. Pete’s little brick house was on a crowded street, and his neighbors were much less than a stone’s throw away. The sidewalks were wide and there were several groups of kids playing outside in the late-evening summer sun.
Max was driving Kendall’s car, leaving Charlie to share the backseat with a very sweet-smelling Emma. He cursed the designer of the perfume she was wearing; it was completely intoxicating. Happy to put some distance between himself and Miss Smells-Too-Good, Charlie jumped out of the car before Max had it in Park.
Pete greeted them from the front porch. He designated one of the older kids to watch the younger ones and told them to stay outside until the tasting was over. Once inside, he was quick to put a beer in Max’s and Charlie’s hands and offered the ladies a glass of wine. Gianna came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron smudged with flour. She had a little bit in her hair, as well.
“Charlie! So good to see you.” She kissed both his cheeks and then gave them a pinch. “Are you eating when you aren’t at the station? You look a little thin.” She turned to her husband. “Are you feeding this boy enough, Peter?”
“He eats like a horse,” Pete insisted. “The kid has hollow legs or something.”
“He feeds me good, Gianna. I promise.”
Charlie introduced everyone to Pete’s wife. She was especially attentive to Kendall. The bride was always the one people in Pete and Gianna’s business had to win over.
“This is the one you have to worry about,” Charlie said, pointing to Max. “He’s a bit of a groomzilla.”
Creases of surprise appeared on Max’s forehead. “What? I am not.”
“And here I thought he was going to say I was the difficult one,” Emma
said.
Charlie ignored that statement. He wasn’t going to say anything about her. He wasn’t even going to think about the fact that she was here. Of course, that Pied Piper perfume wasn’t helping.
“Max is a restaurant manager, so he’s very particular about food. Maybe that’s what Charlie means,” Kendall said, grabbing Max’s hand and calming him down.
It didn’t work. Max was stressed. “I am not particular. That makes me sound difficult. I am not difficult.”
“You’re a little difficult,” Emma said.
“I am not!” Max protested.
Charlie had had his fun. “I’m kidding. There aren’t two easier people to work with than Kendall and Max. And I have no doubt Pete and Gianna are going to knock your socks off.”
“Good,” Pete said with a clap of his hands. “I hope you all came hungry because we have lots of things for you to try.”
He wasn’t kidding. The smells coming from the kitchen were about the only thing in the world that could steal Charlie’s attention away from Miss Smells-Too-Good. Pete led them into the dining room where there was some antipasti and hors d’oeuvres waiting.
The men didn’t hesitate to begin the tasting. Charlie had eaten a light lunch in anticipation of tonight. Emma eyed all the food on the table. He knew she was wary about hiring a friend of his. She thought he was doing Pete a favor when really it was the other way around. Charlie would eat anything Pete cooked.
Two of the kids came running in and were quickly intercepted by their father. “I thought I told you to stay outside until the grown-ups are done in here.”
“I’m still hungry,” the littlest one said. Pete and Gianna had three kids. The oldest was a fourteen-year-old boy, the middle girl was eight and the youngest was a five-year-old princess and a carbon copy of her mother. Pete was going to have his hands full in ten years or so.
“Impossible,” Gianna said, coming out of the kitchen with a basket of Italian bread and a dish of olive oil. “You had two helpings of fettuccine.”
