Resisting Her Ex's Touch

by Amber McKenzie

  “Tate Reed,” he answered instantly, as though his phone had never left his hand.

  “It’s me. I was just with Chloe and she has regained consciousness and is looking appropriate to extubate. They kicked me out, but the ICU doctor is with her now, so I’m hopeful that they’ll take the tube out and she’ll be well enough to leave the ICU.”

  “Is she in pain?” he asked, and Kate was impressed that he seemed to have more surgical sense than she did. She had almost forgotten about the six-inch incision that spanned Chloe’s abdomen and which had remained well covered beneath the bed’s sheets.

  “No, Tate, she didn’t seem to be in any pain. She actually seemed just like Chloe, surprisingly beautiful and understanding, even intubated with all the other tubes and wires all around.”

  “When do you think we can see her?”

  “I think these things take about an hour by the time they assemble all the equipment and appropriate staff in case she doesn’t do well. But I really don’t think she is going to run into a problem.”

  “I have to start another case in the operating room and it’s too late to find someone to cover for me. Can you let me know how she is as soon as you see her again?” Tate was a meticulous and in-control surgeon. He had to be. As a vascular surgeon, his target was everything from the largest to the smallest of blood vessels, with many of his cases being the difference between life and death.

  “Of course, but, Tate, I’m really sure she is going to be okay. It’s Chloe. I mean, who else goes directly from work to the intensive care unit? I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to take a shift tomorrow,” she tried to joke.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Her attempt to lighten the conversation hadn’t worked.

  “I know, Tate. Go and do your case. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

  “Thanks, Kate.”

  She glanced again at the phone in her hand, thinking of Matt. A sense of déjà vu passed over her and it was not a welcome one. No messages and no missed calls. Nothing to reassure her she had not just made the same mistake twice.

  “Kate.” Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her name. Erin Madden was standing in front of her. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to find that an hour had passed and it was almost eleven o’clock. Her fellow resident was dressed as though she had just come from home, in jeans and a casual long-sleeved shirt.

  “The intensivist paged me to let me know that Chloe had regained consciousness and had been safely extubated. I need to do her assessment and talk to her and then you can see her.”

  She had never respected gynecology as much as she had learned to in the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t the roses-and-sunshine specialty the other surgeons thought it was. They really did save lives, this time her best friend’s life, and she would be forever grateful. “Okay. Thank you, Erin, for everything.”

  “It’s our job. Kate, I’m probably going to be at least a half an hour if not more. Why don’t you get something to eat or take a nap in one of the call rooms? I’ll page you when I’m done.”

  Kate nodded, appreciative of Erin’s concern for her well-being and also for the time she was spending on Chloe’s care. She watched the petite blonde walk away and decided to take her up on her advice. She walked from the intensive care family lounge to the operating room and found Tate in the recovery room, writing post-operative orders.

  He noticed her instantly and she smiled warmly at him, trying to convey the good news before she reached him. “She’s been extubated and is doing well. They paged Gynecology as her attending service and Madden is in with her now. It will be another hour before she can have visitors.”

  “Thanks, Kate.”

  “Don’t thank me. I should have known something was wrong when I saw her the other day and she complained about feeling unwell. Instead, I was too distracted by Matt to notice what was going on with my best friend.”

  “Kate, you are one of the most important people in Chloe’s world. She knows how much you love her and how important she is to you, just as You are to her. You two are inseparable. So stop feeling guilty about a situation you had no involvement in or control over. You know that she would hate that, even more than I do.”

  “You’re right. You know us both really well.”

  “Yeah…” He paused. “I need to get these orders done and the operative note dictated. I’ll go and see Chloe in a few hours after you two have had some time together.”

  “Thanks, Tate. I’ll see you later.”

  She hurried downstairs towards the hospital coffee shop, happy to have made it before its midnight closing. Too many nights confined to the hospital’s vending machines had made their contents completely unappetizing. After getting a cup of tea and a sandwich prepared earlier in the day by the hospital’s ladies auxiliary, she made her way back to the intensive care lounge, knowing that she would be more disoriented after thirty minutes of sleep than she would be after none.

  She ate the sandwich quickly, having failed to notice how hungry she was until she actually had food in her stomach. She sipped the cup of tea slowly. It was almost a full hour before Erin Madden emerged.

  “At least you went for something to eat,” she said, smiling and gesturing at the wrapping. “Chloe’s doing well. They are going to move her to the obstetric ward in the morning.”

  “The obstetric ward?” Kate repeated, her confusion clear in her tone.

  “Chloe and I both agreed that that would offer her more privacy than any of the other surgical wards, where she might have known or interacted with some of the patients,” Erin answered, unfazed by being questioned about her medical decision-making.

  “Do you think the nurses there are experienced enough to handle her postoperative care?” Kate asked, still feeling wary of the choice of ward. She had rarely been to the obstetric ward and felt anxious about Chloe being somewhere she didn’t know.

  “Kate, if there is one thing Obstetrics is good at, it is management of bleeding.”

  “Okay,” Kate agreed. She couldn’t dispute the quality of care Chloe had already received and had to trust the team taking care of her. Particularly as she still didn’t know what exactly had happened to Chloe.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to totally exhaust yourself, Kate. I promise you, if anything changes you’ll know as soon as I do.”

  “Thanks, Erin. Have a good night.”

  She walked back to Chloe’s room and found her asleep in her bed. She no longer had the breathing tube and without the sound of the ventilator, the room was much quieter. Chloe opened her eyes as Kate moved back towards the bedside chair.

  “Hey,” Chloe croaked, her throat still raw from the irritation of the tube.

  “Hey, yourself,” Kate replied, unable to keep herself from smiling at the joy of just being able to have this conversation.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” Chloe whispered.

  Kate reached out and took her hand, fighting for control of her emotions as she said the words that had been repeating in her head since the call. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Kate, there was nothing you could have done.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Kate asked gently.

  “Not tonight. It’s too complicated and I’m too tired and sore to understand the situation myself. Is that okay?”

  It was a complete role reversal. Chloe was asking for understanding without explanation, the same thing Kate had wanted when they had first met.

  “Of course it’s okay, Chloe. Anything you want.”

  “Anything I want?” she replied. A little flicker of her usual self in her eyes, as one eyebrow arched upwards.

  “Anything you want,” Kate reaffirmed. She was ready and willing to agree to anything for Chloe.

  “Go home, Kate, you look almost as bad as I must.” She laughed and then had to brace her stomach because the movement caused her pain. Then laughed again at her action.

&
nbsp; “Nice, Chloe.” Kate laughed quietly. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”

  “I know. And you also know that all I’m going to do tonight is sleep, so you should go home and do the same.”

  “I hate it that you are so selfless and reasonable, but I’ll do as I’m told. Tate is working nights this week. He’s going to stop by in a couple of hours to check in.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Behave yourself while I’m gone. Can’t have you cheating on me with any other surgeons, now, can I?”

  Chloe laughed again, clutching her stomach. “Get out of here before I need more pain medication just for the laughter.”

  “’Night, Chloe. I love you.”

  “’Night, Kate. I know you love me and I love you too.”

  Kate got home shortly after midnight, exhaustion seeping through her the moment she opened her apartment door. Her eyes immediately fell on her black sweater and bra, which were still strewn on the living-room floor. The ones she had pulled off herself the night before.

  The bed wasn’t made. The sheets were tangled and she could still see Matt lying there, the memory strong in her mind. She changed quickly into her pajamas and walked out of the room back to her couch. She curled up on its familiar comfort, shut her eyes, trying to block out the events of the past thirty-six hours, and begged for sleep.

  It didn’t come and she lay exhausted, her mind refusing to quiet or slow down and think rationally. She oscillated between anxieties at not being with Chloe, to pain from not hearing from Matt. Why hadn’t he called?

  She officially gave up hope at around four in the morning and went back to the hospital. Quietly she retook her place at Chloe’s bedside, assuaging at least once source of torment. At exactly eight in the morning she couldn’t take the waiting any more and called Matt’s firm. The main receptionist put her through to Matt’s office.

  “Hello, Matt McKayne’s office, this is Andy.” Disappointment ricocheted through her as she realized it was not Matt himself answering.

  “It’s Dr. Kate Spence, I’m looking for Mr. McKayne.”

  “Mr. McKayne has returned to New York. Can I pass on a message?”

  She felt her breath leave her but was incapable of taking in more air. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening, could it? Would Matt really leave? Now? After everything? After they had made love? Her mind and her heart both knew the answers to her questions.

  “No message, thank you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MATT SAT IN his New York penthouse, the normally minimalist look of his home now overwhelmed with papers strewn across every surface. He didn’t usually work from home, but with only a few days to find the missing piece of the puzzle he didn’t want to risk any interruptions or distractions from other cases.

  He had started with the medical reports and the reviews by the medical experts. Nothing appeared amiss. Mr. Weber had had a Stanford A aortic dissection. It had involved the major branches of the aorta and was a lethal state; there had been no hope of saving him and unfortunately no warning signs of the condition prior to him presenting to hospital that would have alerted him or his family to the impending crisis. The delay in reaching Dr. Reed had been unfortunate, but in no way had it led to the man’s death. The attempt at surgical intervention had been an exercise in futility from the beginning.

  The firm’s legal assistants had taken depositions from every health care worker involved in Mr. Weber’s care that night. The plaintiff’s counsel had done the same. Matt’s junior colleagues were charged with reading and summarizing them, highlighting any points in their favor or causes for concern. He had complete faith in the people who worked for him. He had selected each team member himself and had overseen enough of the cases they had worked on to know he could trust the quality of their work. But this case was different. Something wasn’t adding up and it wouldn’t stop nagging at him until he could reassure himself that he had looked over every fact and piece of information personally.

  He glanced at the clock that was perched on the fireplace mantel. It was two in the morning. He had to leave to go back to Boston the following day and felt like he was running out of time. He flexed his back and shoulders, trying to ease the tension that was building knots in the muscles. Kate hadn’t called. He hadn’t expected her to, between Chloe and her job, but it still bothered him that she hadn’t. He wondered what she had said in her messages all those years ago.

  He rose from the kitchen table that he had never used for eating and walked into his state-of-the-art granite and stainless-steel kitchen, also rarely used for its intended purpose. His only appliance on its smooth stone counters was an espresso machine that he had never been as grateful for as he was tonight. As he waited for the machine to produce the espresso shots to top with brewed coffee, he fixated on Kate. What was she doing right now?

  He tried again to block her from his mind and resisted the temptation to call her. It was late and if there was the small possibility she was sleeping he did not want to be the cause of disturbing that precious sleep. Instead he took his coffee and the pile of depositions to the comfort of his leather couch. It was the only piece of furniture he had never changed no matter where he lived, much to his designer’s dismay. It reminded him of where he had been and his mind and body relaxed as he sank into the cushions and began to read.

  Three hours later he was only halfway through the pile and he was getting sloppy. The last deposition had taken him twice as long to get through as it should have and he finally surrendered to the need for sleep. He rose from the couch and went to his bedroom, climbing into the king-size bed. Time was running out for him and for Kate.

  He was awoken from sleep later in the morning by the sound of his cell phone. It took him a few seconds before he remembered where he was and was able to answer the call.

  “McKayne.”

  “Are you really gone?” Kate’s voice wavered over the phone and he didn’t miss the hurt or the accusation in her voice.

  “Kate.”

  “It’s an easy question, Matt.”

  “Yes, I’m back in New York.”

  “I’m a fool.”

  “No, Kate, you don’t understand. I’m trying to help you.”

  “That’s what you said about last time, Matt. It didn’t make it okay then and it doesn’t make it okay now.”

  “Kate, when are you going to trust me again?” He was tired of this; he had been honest with her and there was nothing else he could do. He waited as time passed in silence.

  “How can you ask me to trust you after everything?”

  “I thought we had gotten past that.”

  “No, Matt. Another night together hasn’t fixed our past. I still remember you leaving. I still remember being discarded and replaced.”

  “Replaced?”

  “Your sexual exploits were very popular in the New York society pages your first year in New York, Matt.”

  He cringed. He wasn’t proud of his behavior that year, but he wasn’t going to defend it now, not so many years later and definitely not over the phone, when Kate was clearly trying to use it as an excuse to drive a wedge between them.

  “Where is this coming from, Kate?” He waited again for her answer, all of his senses alert now and focused on her.

  “I can’t believe you left. I feel so stupid for everything. I won’t let you hurt me, Matt, not again. You may not be able to say it, but I can. Goodbye.”

  The click was unmistakable. He phoned her back and the call went straight to voicemail. He didn’t try again: her message had been loud and clear.

  He showered but skipped shaving, not wanting to waste any of the time he had left. He returned to The stack of files and worked steadily for the next ten hours, his focus unwavering. Nothing was out of place or suspect. The overwhelming sentiment in all of the depositions was of support for Drs. Reed and Spence. All their actions were deemed not only professional as per the standard of care but also excellent in
their quality. Those who had worked with the two together that night had seen nothing in their interaction that had even hinted at a change in the personal nature of their relationship.

  His stomach growled and he realized that he had neglected to eat any of the delivered food from earlier. He went to the brown bags and brought them into the living room, where he prepared to watch, while he ate, the emergency department surveillance tapes his assistant had retrieved. He inserted the first disk into the DVD player and noted the time on the bottom of the screen. It was five-twenty in the afternoon, several hours before Mr. Weber had presented. He reached over to grab the remote to fast-forward the tape to later in the evening when something caught his eye.

  He watched as Mr. and Mrs. Weber entered the emergency department and checked in at the triage desk. They spoke with the triage nurse and then after several minutes left the department and the hospital itself through the main doors. Matt was stunned. Nowhere in any of the medical charts was this interaction described. He didn’t move from his spot for the next several hours, watching every second of footage in real time, afraid that something else might be hidden in the tapes.

  Mr. Weber and his wife arrived back in the emergency department at nine twenty-three that evening by ambulance. The ambulance bay bypassed the main triage desk so the nurse who talked with them earlier would have had no knowledge of their reappearance in the department. From that point on every moment of his hospital care had been documented and was recorded accurately in the case files.

  Matt picked up the phone and called Jeff Sutherland’s cell phone, disregarding the time of day. “Jeff, it’s Matt McKayne. Does the hospital track patients who present to the emergency department and then leave without being assessed by a physician?”

  “Yes. Those charts are kept in a separate area, to be used for future needs assessment and capacity planning.”

  “But do they have the patient’s identifying information on them?” Matt asked, wanting more than just the video to back his argument.