Macie shrugged.
“Come on. You can tell me,” Kirsten urged.
Really, Macie couldn’t because she didn’t know what was happening. Did she secretly hate herself? Did she love herself as she was? In just a few short days, she’d gone from adulting like a pro to feeling like an insecure teenager. Even her friends, who she’d known forever, didn’t have the level of sisterly openness she thought, and maybe it was a reflection of bigger issues. On the drive over, she couldn’t stop thinking about how they pitied her and hid things that might make her feel bad. As if I’m a child who can’t handle real life. On the other hand, as hard as it was to admit, maybe Macie hid things too. She rarely let anyone know when she felt worried or sad because it made her feel weak.
“Well, this will get your mind off your troubles. Ready?” Kirsten scooted closer on her rolling stool. “I hear that the Chadster took Rachel home on Friday.”
Rachel was straight out of nursing school and probably the sweetest person in the hospital. She gave Macie the impression she was not a one-night stand kind of girl.
“Oh no,” Macie said. “Do you think she has any idea?”
“You mean about him being a player? Or that he’s a coldhearted pig?”
“Both,” Macie replied.
“No. But she’s going to find out. A man like that is for looking only.”
“Or for contracting syphilis,” Macie muttered.
“I still can’t get over the way he snubbed you on Friday.”
Macie grabbed the clipboard with the appointments printout. “Maybe he wasn’t wrong to.”
“What?” Kirsten jerked back her head.
“Maybe he should shun me. I’m beginning to think it’s a sign.”
“Did you contract dengue fever or have a stroke over the weekend? Any irregular bowel movements?”
“No. Stop it.”
Kirsten huffed. “Then why’s that ridiculous crap spewing from your mouth?”
“See. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“No. No.” Kirsten held up her palms. “My bad. Please continue.”
Macie inhaled slowly. “Lately, everything seems to be focusing on my size.” Macie spotted Dr. Kat, one of the regular physicians, coming their way.
“Good morning,” Dr. Kat said and disappeared into exam room five.
Macie leaned in to whisper, “It’s like the universe is flashing a big red arrow straight at my ass.”
“Meaning?” Kirsten asked.
“Meaning that I’ve lived like this for so long, I hardly think about it anymore. But I just turned thirty. And soon I’ll be forty. And then fifty.”
“That’s generally how aging works, yes. But I’m still not following.”
“If I don’t figure this out now, there will be a point where I can’t.” Metabolisms slowed down, hormones changed, and aging only increased the chances that her now healthy body wouldn’t be. “I think I’m going to get gastric bypass surgery.”
“What?” Kirsten lifted her brows.
“And liposuction,” Macie added.
“That’s major.”
“I know.” But she was not new to medicine or studies about weight. Fat cells were like little monsters. You could shrink them, but then they got angry and demanded to be fed. When you didn’t, they went into a sort of self-preservation mode and used less calories to survive so they wouldn’t die. And their long-term goals were simple: They wanted to multiply and have babies. Lots and lots of fat cell babies. Because of this, diets didn’t work for the majority of people. Evil fat cells are smarter than us.
“You really want to go through all that?” Kirsten asked.
“If not now, then when? When I’m older and less healthy? When I’m more likely to have complications?” She would never be younger or stronger than she was right now.
“For the record, I love you, Macie. You come in here every day and make people feel cared about. You never bitch or moan or drag others down. I think you’re beautiful as is.”
“This isn’t about beauty. It’s about my health.”
Kirsten bobbed her head slowly, mulling it over. “Well, I love you. We all do. And I can’t think of one person here, besides Dr. Butthole, who doesn’t want what’s best for you. So if you insist on going this route, you need to see Dr. Reed. He’s our new plastic surgeon.”
“I’m thinking I’ll start with Dr. Vernon.” She was the doctor who performed gastric bypasses and any other kind of weight-reduction surgery.
“Reed and Vernon work together now,” Kirsten said. “They both have to sign off before they’ll bring you in as a patient.”
Macie supposed it made sense. When people lost weight, many thought that was the end of the road. It wasn’t. They had to deal with maintaining their size, and many wanted tummy tucks, breast lifts, and other surgeries. Everything was elective, of course, but the hospital had to make sure patients knew what they were in for—before, during, and after.
“I’ll see if he can work me in this week, but please don’t tell anyone,” Macie said.
“No. Of course not, Mace. And don’t forget to tell me how he looks. I’d like a pic of his ass, too, if you can manage it. I hear wonderful things.”
Macie raised a brow. “Sorry?”
“Rumor has it that Dr. Reed is so freakin’ hot, your panties will melt and you’ll end up in the burn unit.” She chuckled.
Oh, goody. Another arrogant, manslut doctor. Just what this hospital needs. On the other hand… “Maybe Dr. Reed will put the Chadster in his place—God knows he needs it.”
“Put me where?” The Chadster appeared, standing behind them.
Kirsten’s brown eyes widened. Macie’s, too. How long had he been standing there?
Kirsten didn’t miss a beat. “Good morning, Dr. Bollinger. I was just saying to Macie that I hope you will invite us to your place some night for a little party. It would be such a treat for us ladies.”
He winked and shot his invisible gun at her, making a click with the side of his mouth. “You’re welcome to have a treat at my place anytime.” He turned and strutted off.
Macie cringed. And he thinks I’m gross?
Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, Macie didn’t hear much from Foo, Goo, or Holly, but she had group texted them and told them she needed time to herself. Her mother had called twice, but knowing that nothing got past that woman’s mom-dar, Macie emailed and said she’d come over soon to catch up.
Thursday, eight a.m., Macie wandered in to drop off her things for her late morning shift and then headed to her appointment with the now infamous Dr. Reed. It seemed as though everyone was talking about him since Kirsten brought him up on Sunday—mid-thirties, hot, divorced, hot, used to work exclusively on facial reconstructions, hot, now single but…unavailable? He wouldn’t look at any of the nurses for anything other than polite conversation. The rumors among the gossipers were flying. Gay? Already in love? Secret snob?
So what if he isn’t a flirty manwhore? Good for him, Macie thought, sitting fully clothed in Dr. Reed’s exam room all the way in the north wing of the hospital.
Ten minutes ticked by. Then fifteen. He’s behind schedule like a typical doctor. So annoying. Plus she hated being the patient. Her gift was helping others, not being helped.
Needing a distraction, she hopped off the table and went for her phone in the front pocket of her pink plaid shorts. She opened the email app and began checking messages. Mom. Mom. Dad. Foo. Goo. Spam. I can’t stop thinking about you. From Dr. J-Love?
Macie blinked and opened the message, cupping her hand to her mouth. Ohmygod. It was a selfie that showed everything from the thick brown hair on the top of his head to his hardcore-ripped pecs and tanned abs. He stood on some beach with his arm around someone who’d been cut from the picture, but it was still a very, very wow photo. The glowing smile on his face and the sun-kissed pecs were just the cherries on top. He was insanely masculine and effortlessly sexy.
Macie peeled her eyes away fro
m the photo and read the message: If you’re not ready to meet face-to-face, then okay. But please don’t shut me out, Catrina. You have no idea what our talk the other night meant to me, and I think you felt it too, because you gave me your cell and email address.
Macie stared at the note sent to her HappyInNapa email account. Dammit. She didn’t remember giving him that. And what had she said to make him so adamant about connecting with her after only one conversation? Sadly, she’d deleted the messages from that night along with her dating account, so there was no way to know. All she remembered were the steamy bits.
A loud knock on the door pulled her away from the phone. She tucked it back into the front of her shorts and got onto the exam table. “Come in.”
The door opened, and her heart froze for three beats and then went into crazy-conga-drumbeat mode as two intense green eyes locked on her face.
Dr. J-Love?
CHAPTER FIVE
If fate truly exists, then it hates me, Macie thought, sitting on the edge of the exam table, listening to Dr. Jack Reed, a man so hot that it hurt to look at him, go on about post-gastric-bypass changes in the body.
How can he be J-Love? This is way, waaaay too big of a coincidence. And why the heck is he online dating? The photo he’d sent drastically understated his good looks. First, the way he’d entered the room—sure and strong movements with a straight back and broad shoulders—made her skin tingle. The curtain of thick brown lashes framing his vivid green eyes were beautiful, but the rock-steady jaw with thick dark stubble made him seem rugged and harsh, like camping naked in the woods with only a fire starter and a pocketknife. He had authority mixed with a steely confidence. Beauty mixed with polished professionalism. And when he sat on his stool in front of her and looked her in the eyes, it felt like being hypnotized. I command you, woman, to give me your undivided attention or you will suffer my wrath. And expert medical attention.
Wow. Macie stared in awe.
“Ms. Franklin?” he said in a deep voice void of emotion. “Are you listening?”
No. I am not. You’re too damned handsome. “Eh, yep. Sure. Totally, okeydokey. Yep, yep, yep—and I’m rambling,” she said nervously, quickly erecting her force field.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“No. It’s just I think I know you from somewhere,” she said as an excuse for her odd behavior. “Was trying to figure out where.”
“No. We’ve never met.” He blinked those penetrating eyes, while something she couldn’t reconcile began scratching away in her mind. That photo of him had been of a man who looked happy and warm. Even his online profile picture gave him the air of a fun, friendly guy. This Dr. J-Love was cold. No smiles. No fluff in his words. He came across as, well, hard, and not in the X-rated sense.
Maybe it’s his professional persona. Or maybe, like her, he had a force field.
Macie smoothed her hand over her hair, stopping to pat the bun at the back of her head. Dammit. I look so stupid. Why did I wear the nerd bun today?
“I guess I’ve seen you in the cafeteria or elevators then,” she said. “I work over in the south wing—adult medicine. RN.”
“But your file,” he reached behind him for his iPad on the counter, “didn’t say that you were a hospital employee.” He seemed irritated by the oversight.
“Probably my fault. I rushed to fill out the paperwork since I got squeezed in. You had an appointment cancellation, and I wanted to see you as soon as possible.”
He nodded, showing zero emotion.
Wait. Is that a flicker of curiosity in his eyes? She looked closer. And it’s gone.
“Has something happened recently to make you consider this path?” he asked.
You did. Okay, and the fact that my best friends pity me and I’m tired of feeling like I’m living half my life. But those were the painful truths she kept close.
“I just turned thirty, and I know I don’t look it, but I’m in great shape. I do five miles a day, I eat right, and take good care of myself.” She swept her hands over her body. “This is all good old-fashioned genetics, and it’s time to deal with it.”
“I see.” With a stern expression, he paused for a moment and stared with those shocking green eyes. “That must be frustrating.”
She shrugged dismissively. “I stopped thinking about my weight ages ago.” She’d tried every diet in the world, and they never worked. Not in the long run. She would starve herself and lose thirty pounds, only to put it back on the minute she began eating normally. Now there was new research that showed bodies that lost weight became more efficient at storing energy. Worst of all? It was permanent. She would never be able to eat the same amount of calories as everyone else. And, frankly, living off of twelve hundred calories the rest of her life was no way to live. It made her tired, and she needed energy to keep up with her busy life. Plus, she wanted to eat like a normal person. Even so, she cut corners all the time just to stay where she was on the scale. “I switched to focusing on just being healthy, and I am, but the weight won’t come off.”
“You were born in the wrong epoch,” he said with a stone-cold tone.
“Sorry?”
“Late Pleistocene, early Holocene epochs. Your DNA is from a time when food was scarce. But rest assured, if civilization collapses, your genes will prevent humankind from going extinct.”
Macie stared, wondering if he was joking. It was hard to tell. And frankly, she found him a little intimidating. Luckily for her, she had years of dealing with doctors and their personalities. She knew how to keep a smile and be herself around the toughest of customers.
“Ah. Well,” she grinned, “then I guess we should have a baby. Do our part for mankind.”
And why the hell did I just say that? What’s wrong with me?
He frowned.
“Sorry. That was a joke. A very bad one.” She chuckled nervously.
He completely ignored all of it, maintaining his professional air. “Well, I’m sure you’ve done your research, and you know that meeting with me is protocol. You understand that weight loss is a long process, and seeing Dr. Vernon is only the beginning. In about a year, you’ll have to be prepared to consider seeing a plastic surgeon like myself if everything goes well.” He swiveled on his stool and set his iPad on the counter behind him. “So if you don’t have any questions, I’ll sign off so you can make your appointment with her.”
“I do have one, actually.”
“Yes?” he said with a rigid tone.
“Why did you switch from reconstructive surgery to this?” Rumor had it he’d been a respected doctor at a big hospital in San Francisco, where he’d been up for the head surgeon’s position.
Dr. Reed scratched his scruffy dark brown stubble, giving her the impression that either no one had asked him that question or he was struggling to answer honestly.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m being nos—”
“A man can only see so many mangled children from drunk drivers before it wears on him,” he said abruptly.
Macie’s blood ran cold. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected—there’s more money in elective surgery. Instead, he’d laid it out. No sugarcoating. No BS. It surprised her, but in a good way. She was exhausted by the people around her not being truthful. As if I need coddling. She needed anything but that, and if anyone doubted her, all they had to do was spend a day with her at work. Pus, blood, screaming, she dealt with all the other horrific things life had to offer, including death.
Hell, I just pulled glass out of someone’s butthole yesterday. The man had accidentally sat on a beer bottle, and it shattered. Eleven cuts, thirty-five stitches.
“Thank you for answering honestly,” she said.
Dr. Reed folded his tanned arms over his chest, making his half-cantaloupe-sized biceps bulge.
Macie tried not to stare, but the man was built like an armored car and clearly worked out. The protruding pectorals under his blue scrubs were like two billboards that said, “Wait until you se
e my abs!” Of course, she already had. That photo he’d sent was insanely sexy.
“You sound surprised by my honesty,” he said.
“Not many doctors will admit something like that.”
“Like what?” he scowled. “That I don’t enjoy being reminded of the cruelty of others every day of my life? That I’m tired of hearing parents cry because some asshole decided to drink a bottle of whiskey and drive his truck into their minivan. And afterwards, they hope, with everything in their hearts, that I’m a god who can undo it?” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s shocking I’d admit that. I think it’s perfectly normal. I’m just a man. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Macie didn’t know what to say. He seemed to have zero ego, zero issues saying it like it was, and zero fear. He was unapologetically truthful, and she liked it. But, of course, most surgeons had to be sure of themselves. It was part of what made them good at their jobs.
Can’t go around cutting people open, wondering “Does my ass look fat in these scrubs?” or “Oh boy, I hope the anesthesiologist likes my knife skills.”
“You’re right,” she said. “In fact, I find it hard not to kick the crap out of those kinds of people.” She saw that kind of stuff all the time down in the ER when she had to fill in. She hated it but always did her best to push those emotions aside and focus on her job. “It’s always some dipshit that causes the accidents, but they walk away. I wonder why that is?”
“A damned good question.”
“So now you’re dealing with people who whine about their flabby stomachs and big noses. Don’t you find that annoying?”
“Why do you ask?” He cocked his head just a notch to one side.
“Because you strike me as the type of man who would.”
He stared for a long awkward moment. Not angry, not offended, he just stared.
Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence, she added, “Well, when the time comes, and if you agree to operate on me, I promise not to whine. I will just be grateful I’m in the hands of a good surgeon.”
“Whine all you like, I won’t listen.” He abruptly stood and extended his hand.
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