I finally snapped out of my stroke-like state when we stopped in front of the first patient’s room. Guy and Sam both looked tired but focused, all business. Chase nodded, giving the green light to go in.
We semi-circled Kelly Peterson’s hospital bed, Guy on my right and Chase on my left. My libido, which was extinguished three years ago, was just doused with high-octane gasoline without a fire extinguisher in sight.
Suddenly, I was all too aware of my clothes sticking to my body. This was a sick joke. Shouldn’t my early morning irritable bowel have caused dehydration? No such luck. There was even a sheen of sweat in my cleavage. The hospital thermostat never wavered past sixty-eight degrees, but I felt like I was stuck at the beach, mid-August, wearing black ski thermals. I was a hot mess. This man, who I had never laid eyes on until ten minutes ago, and who spoke a total of maybe twenty words to me, completely rattled my core and managed to awaken every hormone in my body with one look.
Kelly struggled to lift her frail body up in the bed to greet us. She softly smiled, recognizing me from my earlier visit. Thankfully, her brave facade pulled me from my internal inferno and reminded me why I was here. This was the only real social-work-like part of my job, and she needed my support. My issue needed to wait.
It was not my place to speak first, so I returned her smile and gave her a ‘hey-you, you-can-do this’ little wave. Being in and out of the hospital enough times in the past few months, she knew the drill. Evening rounds were the attendings’ show, intended for teaching, but it usually turned out to be an ego-stroking session. Where morning rounds were typically the senior resident’s understudy performance of the evening before. Bottom line: it was two hours I wouldn’t mind skipping on a Monday to Friday basis.
Suddenly, Chase’s “six and six” comment rang back in my ears. Fan-freakin-tastic. He obviously wasn’t feeling the once a day rounding idea. This hormonal mutiny needed some control if I was going to see this man twice a day.
Chase stepped up to Kelly’s sterile white bed with his strong right hand outstretched. “Mrs. Peterson. I’m Dr. Chase Colton. I apologize for not getting down here sooner to introduce myself. I was in the operating room all day, not that it’s an excuse.”
Chase shook her hand then enveloped their joined hands. His intensity slowly started to soften, replaced by pliability, or a softness. If I didn’t know any better, I would believe it was true compassion.
“Thank you. I do appreciate that. So … are ... are you as brilliant as they say, or should I be wor-worried?” she said quietly, trying to hide the quiver in her voice.
A knot tightened in my throat. I couldn’t imagine how terrified she must be. I knew how scared I was when I had surgery, and it paled in comparison to brain surgery.
Surgeons were usually very casual when they spoke of procedures; after all, it was old hat to them. I was surprised when Chase steadied their joined hands and squatted, knees resting on his thighs, to be eye level with his patient. I couldn’t recall seeing any of the other doctors do that before or anything so ... personal. All of a sudden he was a little less intimidating, a touch softer, more human. The sharpness faded even more when he parted his lips. His smile was breathtaking, not to mention sincere.
“We’ve got this. You need to trust my team. I’ll let you know if we get to the point of being worried. As of right now, I’m not worried. Okay?” His face and body language spoke novels. He wasn’t just telling her what she wanted to hear or singing his own praises. There was no arrogance, just an unmistakable confidence in his voice. A sincere resolve.
Calm washed over Kelly while she listened to Chase. How was this the same man who intimidated the shit out of me five minutes ago with his intensity? But now I was awestruck. Poor Kelly was getting her skull cracked open tomorrow, a concept I couldn’t even begin to fathom, but suddenly my fear for her lessened.
Chase dropped her hand, stood back up and spent the next five minutes or so answering Kelly’s questions and reviewing details of tomorrow’s procedure. Slowly and clearly, in English. Even I got the gist of what she was up against. It sounded horrible and unfair. No one should have to face this. Words like tumor, margins and consciousness permeated through the internal static playing in my ears, trying to drown out the harsh reality of this woman’s condition. My heart broke a little more for Kelly.
“Try and get some rest. We have a five-hour date tomorrow afternoon,” Chase said before walking out the door.
Kelly smiled, a real smile for the first time in probably a long time.
Like obedient soldiers we followed Chase out of the room. In a familiar team play, the four of us huddled close to review her case before moving on to the next patient. His scent permeated my senses, and I was entirely too aware of his close proximity. After a twelve-hour day operating under layers of sterile gowns and masks, he still smelled good. Not like cologne, but a mix of clean sweat and whatever body wash he used that morning. It should be bottled; it was intoxicating. All man. All this man.
“Ahem.” Chase forced his throat clear, demanding attention.
It broke my trance and pulled Sam and Guy’s focus from their e-tablets. His hands were snaked back into his trousers, displaying the broadness of his shoulders. He was glaring right at me. Intense eyes were back. If I didn’t know any better, his eyes told a story as screwed up as my own. Was this the same man from two seconds ago? If so, I liked Dr. Compassionate a little more.
Another hot flash detonated. If it wasn’t a stroke it was early menopause. Maybe three years of self-induced hormonal shut down backfired and left me even more screwed up.
“I want repeat labs in the morning and all her scans uploaded in the OR before I get there. This goes off without a hitch. Got me?” he barked.
Guy took the hit for the team. “No problem.”
Silence. More silence. I didn’t have to look up to know I was in his crosshairs. Welcome back, nervous stomach. I needed a margarita, like right freaking now.
“Ms. Porter. Do you want to add anything?” His storm greys traveled down the entire length of my body, only to slowly rebound back up to my own eyes. Our close huddle was getting too claustrophobic.
“Umm. No, she’s all good from my end. Her insurance coverage gives her five days in-patient and she should be eligible for rehab too.” I pulled that answer out of my ass.
“Good to know.” More silence. Was he checking me out? Because his eyes nailed me to the wall. No, that’s crazy talk. “Who’s next?” he asked.
Guy answered while pressing his hand to the small of my back. “We’re done on five. Rest of the patients are up on the sixth floor. Let’s go.” Without delay, we joined Sam at the stairwell.
“Fine. Let’s move.” Chase snapped, sounding pissed for some reason. He snaked his hand from his pocket and raked it through his already disheveled hair while gazing down at my legs. His expression was one of annoyance. Was he pissed at me? What the hell did I do?
“And Ms. Porter ... you might want to rethink your shoes, I don’t want to be here all night.” He pushed through the steel door and took two steps at a time.
Mortifying. What was wrong with the freaking elevator?
3
Rosa's
“Hey, what took you so long?” Sierra stood with her adorably popped belly to wave me over to where she and Kate were sitting. After the most humiliating forty-five minutes of my life, I was beyond ready for a margarita. Make that a pitcher of margaritas. Intravenous tequila infusion sounded even better.
“Hey girls. Sorry I’m late. Rounds were-” No appropriate description came to mind, so I abandoned the thought mid-sentence. I gave them each a quick peck on the cheek, while simultaneously lifting Kate’s half empty margarita glass off the table. The waiter in the distance waved. He got the point. That’s right, I needed a glass. STAT.
“No problem, we just got here. Sit. So dish. How’d it go?” Sierra had zero patience. Straight to the point. Always.
Luckily Miracle Waiter appeared
with a clean glass in record time. I poured myself a generous sized glass of golden yummy from the pitcher sitting on our table.
“Cheers.” I clanged Kate’s glass and Sierra’s seltzer-filled wine glass. The glass made her feel like she wasn’t missing out or so she said. Then I downed my liquid gold. I definitely needed that.
“So, Kate was just catching me up on CJ,” Sierra said, while opening the menu.
I was so engrossed in my own hormonal drama I almost forgot everything Kate had shared about her relationship earlier that day at lunch. Wasn’t I friend of the year?
Kate worked in the recovery room, and we quickly became friends after I was reassigned to all the surgery services. Sierra took an instant liking to her as well. It was impossible not to, Kate was a doll.
Sufficiently numb with two doses of my good friend liquid courage, I was able to block my day and focus on Kate and her on-again-off-again loser boyfriend. I tried not to be judgmental when it came to other people’s relationships and their choices, since I made more than my share of monumentally poor choices. But CJ and the way he treated Kate tested my resolve.
“I know what you both think, you don’t have to say it ... I deserve better. In my head I get it. But the rest of me doesn’t. Some days he is beyond amazing and sweet and totally present in the moment. Like I’m his everything. But then, out of nowhere, he flips and becomes a complete stranger who couldn’t care less if I jumped off a bridge. We go months with things being dreamy. Then out of nowhere, he’s picking a fight over the stupidest crap. Excuse my language. But it’s as if he wakes up and decides he hates my guts that day. I’m so confused. I really thought he was the one. I want him to be the one.” Kate rubbed her temples like she was fighting off a migraine while her real struggle was fighting back tears.
Sierra and I exchanged a quiet glance and knew it was time to change the subject. Nothing we might say was going to change her mind. Not tonight. She wasn’t there yet. All my social work training taught me that she had to come to certain realizations on her own. On her own time. I couldn’t press fast-forward on her life story any more than I could press rewind on my own.
Kate had been complaining about her mysterious boyfriend CJ’s bipolar antics since we became friends. Saying she could do better was an understatement.
Kate was a real life Joey Potter who deserved her Dawson. She used the word dreamy, for god’s sake. Instead she wound up with a certifiable douchebag. A complete letdown in every sense, he couldn’t even find the time to meet her friends. Not that we minded.
He was always too busy or too tired. They supposedly met in the hospital, and she hinted that it was a source of embarrassment for him. Grow up. Get over it—everyone gets sick. Sierra and I had our own theory. This CJ guy was either truly bipolar or cheating on her. My money was on the latter.
“Fuck him. That’s what I say. Fuck him! Now let’s drink!” Sierra excelled at changing the subject.
Kate’s lips parted into a small grin and let out a quiet chuckle. She managed to blink away the tears. Then Kate and I did as we were told. We drank.
Two pitchers of margaritas later and entirely too much information about vaginal discharge in pregnancy, a very sober Sierra was a good distraction. Kate forgot she was settling for an asshole, and I only thought about Dr. Intensity a dozen or so times over the two hours. I couldn’t wrap my head around why I allowed this man to have such an effect on me.
In between Sierra’s rendition of Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy, my mind kept skipping back to everything Chase Colton. That voice. That face. That body. That freaking body. That was not the body of a surgeon. You didn’t get to look like a Greek god from hours of holding a scalpel. I couldn’t picture him spending all his free time at the gym. He seemed a lot of things, but vain was not one of them.
After a total of one hour in his company, I knew nothing more than he was an early riser and could be seriously intimidating. But there was no denying I saw a glimpse of a soft side when he spoke to Kelly.
And then there were those eyes. Those damn eyes. Two flecks of muted silver crystal that leveled me to the ground. But they were clouded by something—a heaviness, a darkness. I was drawn to the story behind those eyes. His stare was mesmerizing. I envisioned that body on top of me, gazing down at me with that intensity, touching me. Could those hands heal me?
My stomach was on fire and it was not the nachos. It was as if my extinguished pilot was just re-lit, and there was no thermostat to control my furnace. I shifted in my chair and drained the water glass in front of me. It drowned nothing. This man was under my skin.
I was a million miles away when Sierra dropped her fork in victory, rubbing her even more popped belly. Impressive. Polishing off a Rosa’s enchilada was no small feat.
“Yum-my. Oh gosh. Lil—I can’t believe we forgot to ask. How was your day?” Sierra turned and looked at me sheepishly.
Hmm … what was there to say? Oh just fabulous. They spoke Sanskrit and it was depressing as all hell. Everyone had brain tumors. Not to mention my new attending was hot as balls and I hadn’t stopped thinking about him touching me in unspeakable ways the entire time we’d been here. And let’s not forget, I made a complete ass out of myself in front of the team and was in dire need of a CVS pit stop. If my libido’s reaction to this man today was any indication, I needed to stock up on pantiliners. A month’s supply.
Without giving me a second to answer, Sierra finished. “So was I right about the new guy—big dick?”
Lord help me. This was going to be a very long month.
4
Blue scrubs
Latte questionably in hand, I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor. Silently praying the rumble would stay quiescent, I took a sip and admired my cute fuchsia ballet flats, a welcoming back-of-the-closet surprise. I’m sure something my personal shopper insisted I buy. Luckily Sierra had a knack for the designer goods at pauper prices. There was no way in hell I could spend another day running up and down the stairs in heels.
Ten minutes early, I decided to visit my new favorite patient in room 508.
“Hi, all.”
The girls at the nurses’ station returned my wave as I headed for Kelly Peterson’s room.
“Good Morning, Mrs. Peterson, hope I’m not waking you.” I gave the slightly ajar door a little push as I stepped inside. She looked up from her iPad and smiled. “How you feeling today?”
“Hi Lili, happy you stopped by. A bit of a rough night though.” She repositioned herself in the bed and closed her iPad. “After Dr. Colton explained the surgery to me last night I’ve literally been a wreck. Two in the morning rolled around and I totally freaked. Everything is so much worse at night, right?” She reached up and ran her hand through her blonde curls.
“Really, Mrs. Peterson … you should’ve called me, the nurses know how to reach me. Please don’t hesitate, that’s why I’m here.” I approached her bed.
“No more Mrs. Peterson crap, please call me Kelly.” She half smiled. “And you don’t need to be ruining a perfectly good evening with my drama. You’re way too young, super sweet and adorable to be hanging out with me.”
I frowned and shook my head while she found herself funny. “Thank you, but so not true. Now, seriously I’m a phone call away.” If she only knew what a non-life I really had.
She tipped her head back and rested against the pillow.
“You okay?” I asked.
She curled her knees up to her chest. “I’m so scared. All I want to do is screw the surgery and go home to my babies.” I sat on the edge of her bed and squeezed her hand. “Can you believe he’s gonna drill my head open? That’s insane, right? Then he’s gonna wake me up in the middle of the whole thing to check my speech. What ... what if I don’t wake up?” Her voice cracked, but that’s not what got to me. The strength she used to hold back her pool of tears killed me. I squeezed her hand a little tighter, blinking back my own tears.
“Oh sweetie, you can’t think like th
at. You’re going to do so well, I know it. You’re freaked and that’s totally understandable. I’d be too, hell, who wouldn’t be? But Dr. Colton is the best of the best. I’m not just saying that. He was recruited to be Chief of the department. That doesn’t just happen. Do you know what I mean? You have to be special, really special—you have to be amazing.” Her lips curled slightly and she dragged a finger under her eyes. I handed her a tissue from her night table. “You know people fly in from all over the country, actually all over the world to have him operate on them? You’re in good hands.” She dabbed the last of her tears with the tissue. “And besides, you have to be strong for not only yourself but your hunky husband and two gorgeous children. They need you.”
Her family photo sat on her side table, so I grabbed it and smiled. Must be so nice to be loved, something I was not that familiar with. Of course my father loved me and my friends loved me, but I was missing my family photo.
She removed her legs from her chest and propped herself up on the pillows. “You’re right, I have to be strong. Tim’s at home juggling two jobs and two nutty twin three-year-olds.”
I took a closer look at her photo. “Oh my goodness, they’re twins. I can’t believe it. One’s so blonde and one’s so dark … hmmm, just like Mommy and Daddy. They’re precious, Kelly. You must really have your hands full, huh?” She perked up a bit and sighed. “I know you must miss them so much. Don’t worry … we’re going to do everything in our power to get you recovered and home quickly.” I glanced up, making eye contact with two very mesmerizing grey ones. Chase was just outside the door, hidden from Kelly’s view, eavesdropping. My nervous stomach was back.
“Am I interrupting?” His eyes bounced back and forth from mine to Kelly.
Shit. Starting morning number two off on the wrong foot, too.
“How are you feeling this morning, Mrs. Peterson?” Chase strolled into the room with Guy and Sam on his heels.
Beautifully Awake Page 3
