by Durano, Liz
“I’m sure Ryan will be in touch,” she says as I pick up the phone, nodding.
“I’m sure he will.”
The moment Bailey leaves the office, I make a few phone calls: Human Resources to let them know that I have a family emergency and that I’ll be out of the office for at least a week, and Ryan to tell him he’ll have to lead the project without me. Since he’s still at the meeting, I leave him a message.
Ten minutes later, there’s a brief knock on the door and Ryan walks in. He looks concerned. “What’s this I hear about your mother? She broke her hip?”
I nod. “She fell off a ladder.”
“How long will you be gone?”
I shrug. “A week, at least.”
“What’ll happen to the presentation?”
“You can do it,” I reply. “I’ll leave you all the notes.”
Ryan frowns. “But you’re the one who knows this project inside and out, Ava. What if they ask me something I don’t know the answer to?”
“Everything will be in the printed material,” I reply. “I’ll make sure to cover everything.”
He studies me for a few moments. “I’d rather you be there with me, Ava. I’m sure your mother will be okay by then.”
“If she broke her hip, that means she’ll have rehab and she’ll need help at home,” I say. “I’d rather I focus on her right now.”
Ryan gets up from the chair walks around my desk. He leans his hands on the armrests of my chair, locking his hazel eyes with mine. “I understand, babe, but you know how this project is very important to me… to us. This is our baby.”
“Ryan, didn’t you just hear what I said? My mother needs me. She’s having surgery.”
“Of course, I heard you, Ava. But what about the team? They’re counting on you to bring this to the finish line,” he says as I push one of his hands off the armrest and squeeze out of my chair. A long time ago, it was a fun game we played, boss and employee playing around. But not right now.
“Ryan, I need to pack for my flight in three hours.”
“Will you be available if I need you?” He asks. “I hear you about being there for your mother but can you be available if I have questions?”
I nod, sighing. “I’ll do my best. Just know that my priority is my mother, okay?”
“I’ll be putting your name in for a promotion after this project is done,” he says. “You’ll finally get that corner office you always wanted.”
I frown. “You said that last time.”
“Last time, Jerry hadn’t put in his resignation yet,” he says. “Besides, your name’s all over this project, Ava. And you can’t deny you and I make a good team. We always have.”
“We used to,” I say. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still my boss and you’re going to get all the credit.”
“Not this time,” Ryan says. “When you come back, maybe you and I–”
“Tell me when I get back,” I say, not wanting to hear what he has to say. “My flight leaves in three hours so I need to head home and pack.”
As Ryan says goodbye and leaves the room, I force myself to focus on what I need to do to get out of the office. My mother and her recovery.
As I tuck my laptop into my purse, guilt hits me and I sigh. Even though I call my mother every week, I’ve always put work first all because of that damn corner office I’ve wanted for the last three years. I can still remember our last video call two weeks ago, listening to her asking me when I’d ever put family first for once and make time for her. I remember telling her that I had a few weeks off in the next six months and that I’d pencil a vacation in.
Well, it may not exactly be a vacation but I’m penciling a trip in right now.
Chapter Two
Ava
My flight lands at Sacramento Airport at eight-thirty in the evening and from there, I rent a car and drive for another hour to Auburn Springs, a small town in the Sierra Nevada mountains. The closest “big” city to Auburn Springs is probably Grass Valley, but even Grass Valley is small compared to my current home, New York City.
Hard to believe I was so eager to leave this place right after college, determined to seek my fortune, so to speak, in the world outside our little quaint tourist town known for its Gold Rush roots.
Seven years later, I’ve made it, at least, by small town standards. And through it all, Mom cheered for me, telling everyone willing to listen about my glamorous job in New York even if it was far from glamorous, especially in the beginning. I lived in a room the size of a closet and without the care packages she sent each month, my diet consisted mostly of office coffee and ramen noodles.
I didn't care though, because I was right where I wanted to be. Being in Manhattan allowed me to work for Pearson Media, an advertising company with offices in Midtown Manhattan. I started out in the bottom and worked my way up slowly while I took courses at night until I was promoted copywriter. Seven years later, I'm assistant creative director, and although I no longer live in a room the size of a closet, my current apartment is still small by Auburn Springs standards. But given that I hardly ever spend time at home, I’m not really missing anything.
I make it to the hospital just before visiting hours end and find Mom watching TV. Large and small pieces of equipment beep and blink next to her bed and wires emerge from under her hospital gown. For a moment, I’m struck by how small and pale she seems but the moment she sees me, her face lights up.
“Ava! You made it!”
I give her a hug, careful not to move her in any way. “How are you feeling?”
“Filled to the max with painkillers,” she says, sighing. “I really did it this time, love. I can’t believe I fell. The job was so easy.”
I chuckle dryly. “Cleaning the roof gutters by yourself? Mom, why didn’t you just hire someone to do it?”
“Do you know how much they’re asking?” She exclaims. “Too much money if you ask me. So I figured I’d do it myself. I’ve always done it myself before.”
“You were younger then, Mom,” I say. “So what’s the verdict? Are you getting surgery?”
“Yes, tomorrow morning. I apparently need a hip replacement and will be here for at least three more days. I just hope I’ll be home in time for the annual Easter egg hunt.”
“You really shouldn’t worry about that right now,” I say, pulling open the wardrobe door and taking a pillow from the top shelf. “Your priority is to get better. Someone else can host the egg hunt.”
“But it’s tradition at the house. You know how everyone loves the garden.” She pauses, watching me set the pillow on the loveseat. “What are you doing?”
“I’m spending the night here. With you.”
“Are you crazy? The chairs here are terrible,” she says. “Ask Lisa. Her husband said he’ll probably need a chiropractic adjustment in the morning because the loveseat is so bad.”
I sit down to test the loveseat and hear the squeak of springs. It’s not too bad, but then I’m not the one who drove cargo trucks for the last twenty years. “I’ll need to request a blanket from the nurses’ station though.”
A nurse knocks on the door and after a quick round of introductions, she announces that she needs to take Mom’s vitals.
“I’m going to the nurses’ station now,” I say as I make my way to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
The nurses’ station is located in the middle of the floor, flanked by a corridor of patient rooms on both sides. Everyone seems busy but one of the nurses sees me and approaches the counter.
“Yes? May I help you?”
“I’m Carla Turner’s daughter in Room 428,” I say. “I’m staying with her for the evening and I was wondering if you have any pillows you can spare. A sheet, too.”
“Sure, let me get one of the nurse aides to get them for you.” As she picks up the phone receiver, a man emerges from a patient’s room behind her and suddenly all the air leaves the room.
It takes a few seconds befo
re my mind registers the line of the man’s jaw, his blond hair, and those unmistakable blue eyes to know who he is. Only this time, he’s wearing a white doctor’s coat over his light blue button down shirt and dark trousers, a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
Holy shit.
My Las Vegas one-night-stand whose abs I still see in my sleep, whose kiss I still remember.
I almost duck out of sight but before I can, the nurse asks me to confirm my mother’s room number and that’s when he looks up. Parker’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees me but he composes himself, turning his attention to a fellow doctor who approaches him.
That’s when I make my escape, ducking behind a corner the moment I answer the nurse’s question and heading back to my mother’s room at the end of the hall.
What the hell is he doing here?
I’m one room away from Mom’s room when I hear his voice and I freeze.
“Ava?” He must have cut through the corridor between the stations. He also has long legs.
I turn around, forcing a smile. “Hey, Parker. What are you doing here?”
He taps on the badge clipped to his breast pocket that says Parker O’Neill, MD. Beneath it is the word Neurology. “I was doing a last-minute consult. What about you? Are you visiting a friend?”
“My mother. She was admitted here this morning,” I say as he frowns.
“Is she okay?”
“She broke her hip and she’s scheduled to have surgery tomorrow, but she’s fine,” I reply, my mouth feeling dry. “How long have you been in Auburn Springs?”
“I moved here six months ago,” he replies, his voice lowering as he continues. “You left without saying goodbye… or leaving me your number.”
“I… I panicked. I had a flight to catch,” I mutter, looking away. I did have a flight to catch but I also didn’t want to risk disappointment in case he never bothered to call my number.
Parker clears his throat. “Anyway, I just overheard you request for a pillow. Are you spending the night then?”
“Yes, I am,” I reply, relieved he changed the subject.
Parker doesn’t speak right away, his brow furrowing. “The armchairs in the patients’ rooms are notoriously horrible for sleeping. If you don’t mind, I’m going to recommend having the lounger wheeled to your mother’s room. It comes with an ottoman that you can attach to make it seem like a twin-sized bed.”
“You don’t have to,” I stammer. “I’ll be fine.”
Parker shakes his head. “It’s no big deal. Besides, I’m not about to let you or anyone sleep on the armchairs they have in the rooms, not when we’ve got something more comfortable in the next wing. I’ll have one of the orderlies set it up for you in the next few minutes.”
“Parker, I…” I pause when he cocks an eyebrow. I exhale. I really need to be more grateful and not argue about everything. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We don’t speak for the next few moments but I can feel my discomfort growing. I’d been a wild woman back in Las Vegas and that’s the version of me that Parker knows. But I’d also met a version of him that’s unlike the doctor standing in front of me right now. That one was delicious enough to make me forget my name.
The pager clipped to his belt vibrates and he silences it. “I should let you get back to work, Parker. Wait, or should I call you Doctor O’Neill?”
“Call me Parker. Please. You’re not my patient,” he says, smiling as my stomach clenches, the memories of that night coming back to me.
His kiss, his touch, his body.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus. “Well, see you around.”
I don’t wait for him to reply. I turn away and slip into my mother’s room, my stomach a bundle of knots. I never thought I’d see Parker again. I mean, he was a one-night stand—and in Las Vegas for that matter where what usually happens there stays there (because I sure as heck never told anyone about it). But to see him again, and in my hometown of all places, is crazy.
The giddy feeling is soon replaced with dread. Wait, is he married? Why the hell didn’t I check his finger?
Mom is watching an infomercial for a multi-cooker when I return to the room.
“Ava, I’m so happy you’re here tonight. I’ve never had to spend one night in a hospital before,” Mom replies. “Lisa stayed for as long as she could but her kids needed her.”
“I’m really glad she was home, Mom. What if she wasn’t? Did you have your phone with you?”
Mom gives me a look. “What do you think? I was on a ladder.”
Of course, she didn’t have her phone with her. It’s bad enough she insists on living alone although she sometimes rents the guest rooms out to massage students. But refusing to spend a few dollars to have someone else clean the roof gutters is a bit much.
“So how long are you staying?” She asks. “The surgeon came in this afternoon and said something about recovery taking a few weeks. Considering you’re quite busy at work, I imagine you won’t be able to stay too long.”
“You’re my priority,” I say, holding her hand. “I’ll stay for as long as I need to be here.”
There’s a knock on the door and we both turn to see an orderly standing outside. “Miss Ava Turner?”
“That’s me.”
“Dr. O’Neill requested this to be brought here.” The orderly pushes a chaise lounger into the room, positioning it close to the window a few feet from Mom’s bed. Behind him, a nurse aide follows carrying two pillows, folded sheets, and a blanket in her arms.
“Oh wow,” Mom says. “They’re really pulling out the stops, aren’t they?”
“Thank you,” I mutter. “And thank Dr. O’Neill for me, too. That was really nice of him.”
“If you need anything else, just let someone at the station know,” the orderly says before he and the nurse assistant leave the room.
“Who’s Dr. O’Neill?” Mom asks as I unfold the sheets and lay it over the chaise. “Is he someone you went to school with?”
“No. He’s one of the doctors on the floor.” I do my best to act nonchalant but I’m feeling too giddy. Parker didn’t have to do this.
“Is he single?”
I shrug. “I actually don’t know.”
“And you know him… how?”
I set the pillows on the chaise and sit down, as if testing to see if it’s comfortable. It’s more than comfortable, actually. Reclined, it’s the size of a twin sized bed. “I met him briefly a few months ago while on business.”
“Oh, really?” Mom says, a knowing smile on her face. “And he just happened to have the chaise lounge brought in here for you?”
“I’m sure they’d have done it for anyone, Mom.” I open my overnight bag and pull out my makeup kit, wanting to keep busy, nonchalant, as if seeing Parker again isn’t making the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy and my belly clench at the memory of our night together. It’s also growling, the sound it makes loud enough that Mom turns to look at me.
“Have you eaten?” She asks and I shake my head.
“Just whatever snacks they gave us on the flight,” I reply. “I was too anxious to eat anyway.”
“Lisa told me they have a nice cafeteria downstairs, complete with espresso machines and everything,” she says. “Maybe they’re still open.”
“I just might check it out. If not, I’m sure there are vending machines in this place.”
“I’ll probably be asleep when you get back. Whatever painkillers they’re giving me is pretty strong, if you ask me,” she says, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “Thank you for being here, Ava. Tonight, especially.”
“Oh, Mom, I’d have moved heaven and earth to be here with you,” I say as my stomach growls again and we both chuckle. “Although right now, my stomach would love nothing more than to move heaven and earth to find that cafeteria.”
Chapter Three
Parker
“Still here?” Dr. Sebastian Crawford, head
of the neurology department and my boss, asks as he presses the Down button on the elevator panel. “I thought you’d have left by now.”
“Just had to check on one more patient in the fourth floor.”
“Oh right, the Benson kid,” he says as I nod. “Well, hopefully you’re done for the day.”
“I am,” I reply, the elevator doors sliding open and we both step inside.
“Oh, by the way, don’t forget tomorrow’s ribbon-cutting for the new wing,” he adds as the doors close. “The press will be there and it’ll be a great way to formally introduce you to the community. You are, after all, Auburn Spring’s newest neurologist and we’re glad to have you.”
“I’m glad to be here, sir, and I’ll be there,” I say as the elevator stops on the fourth floor and the doors slide open and he steps out, bidding me good night. As I lean back against the wall and wait for the doors to close, I can’t believe I almost forgot the ribbon-cutting ceremony tomorrow. But how can I think of anything else when my mind is still reeling at seeing Ava again?
When I woke up to find her gone from my bed in Las Vegas eight months ago, she left me with nothing but a thank you note—and a few love bites I couldn’t hide from my fellow doctors when I showed up at the conference later that afternoon. I honestly thought I’d never see her again.
Las Vegas was the first time I was able to relax since completing a three-year neurology residency program in Connecticut that barely afforded me enough time to do anything other than sleep and eat the moment I got home. Hell, even I didn’t have time to pay attention to poor Lanie who ended up spending more time with my roommate than with me.
Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do, but that residency was intense and grueling. I had no business thinking I could pull off a relationship when I was working 72-hour shifts.
The Las Vegas conference was my first time to feel human again. No patients to see, no cases to solve, and no pager to tell me I was needed as soon as I’d closed my eyes for a much-needed nap.
