She nods. “Thank you. I know you were on your way home, but I appreciate you taking some time to look this over.”
“I’m happy to help.” I get to my feet. It’s been a long day, and I’m beat. Tomorrow starts one of the biggest days of my life and I’d like to be alert. There’s just one more thing I need to do before I can leave, and that’s check on Mrs. Whitley. “We’ll talk tomorrow?”
She nods. “See you then.”
My phone pings with a text message.
Westin: I’m leaving now . . . are you tired or awake?
My teeth brush over my lip and I know exactly what that means.
I shoot off a quick text to Martina and Julie saying I can’t make it and then I reply to Westin.
Me: Awake. Very awake. Give me a few. I have to check on a patient and I’ll meet you there.
Who needs beer dip anyway? There’s another thing I want much more right now.
I roll over and touch the cool sheets instead of the warm body I was expecting to find. Westin came back to my place after work, right? I swear he did. A whistling noise comes from the bathroom, and I grin.
Yup. He definitely did.
My imagination may be good, but it’s not that vivid. I stretch my sore muscles and rub my eyes with a smile. Waking up with Westin Grant is the cherry on top of my sundae. He’s the constant in my chaotic and unpredictable life.
The bathroom door opens and there stands my longtime—I don’t even know what to call him—wearing nothing but a towel. Water drips from his hair and runs down his chest until it disappears into the towel at his waist.
“You’re up,” he smiles. “I thought I was going to get to wake you this morning.”
“Not today. I don’t think I slept more than an hour anyway.”
“Do you ever?” he chuckles and moves toward me with that look. The look that says he was hoping to get his workout in this morning—with me.
“Wes,” I warn as he crawls onto the bed.
“Ren,” he grins.
“We can’t,” I shake my head at him and move toward the edge—away from him. “We both need to get to the hospital on time today. I cannot be late.”
Today is when everything will really change. It’s the day I’ve waited my entire professional life for. The day I’ll finally be able to test whether my hopes for this new medication are right or epically wrong. I’m both excited and overwhelmed at the same time.
My clinical trial begins today. In the last five years, I’ve tried to find a mixture of drugs that will not only eliminate the cancer, but also allow the women I treat to have hope for the futures they want. When an ovarian cancer diagnosis comes, we always treat first with surgery.
But what if we didn’t have to?
What if I could save them from a hysterectomy and allow them to carry their own children? If my treatment works, I may be able to give them just that. With this combination of medications, I can shrink the tumor and save my patients from permanent infertility.
And if I can’t, then . . . I’m not really sure what to think. I feel nervous, excited, and terrified all at the same time.
Will I screw up? What if I lose someone? What if I can’t do this and it turns out I’m a fraud?
“I’ll be quick,” Westin jokes as his arms wrap around me. “Or I can hold you for a little.”
I smile at him over my shoulder. “We don’t cuddle.”
“Only because you refuse to.” His laughter vibrates against my neck and I shift away from him.
He’s not wrong, it’s definitely my fault, but I have my reasons. I’m good with how things are, and even though he gives me shit, it’s all I’m capable of right now. Feelings lead to love. Love leads to heartbreak. Heartbreak leads to me feeling weak, which I will never let myself be again. Besides, it’s not like he has it all that bad. He gets sex without any expectations.
I roll over, pressing my hand to his cheek. “Don’t pretend you don’t like the way this works.”
His warm green eyes roam my face. “I’m saying I wouldn’t mind if this worked itself into something more.”
I jerk back, surprised by this. Westin and I have an agreement, one that has worked well for us. “What are you even saying? What we have, it’s . . . well, why make this complicated?”
“Complicated isn’t always a bad thing, baby.”
I tense at his term of endearment. Of course, he notices because there’s not much he misses.
“We should get ready,” I try to deflect, “I don’t have time to debate what we are or anything else.”
The last thing I want is to be a bitch, but today is a big day for me. He knows this, and if the roles were reversed, Westin would be the same. Part of the reason our convoluted quasi-relationship works is because we get this.
I don’t have to explain my lack of emotional availability because we’re both doctors. Damn good doctors.
“Serenity,” Westin’s deep voice washes over me as his lips brush mine. “There’s always time for this.”
“Not on clinical trial day. I need to be focused, steadfast, and you, my friend,” I kiss him briefly, “know better.”
His head drops to my neck, and he groans, and releases me. “I’m sure you’ll text me to meet in the on-call room.” He smirks as he stands and drops the towel, giving me a view of his perfect butt. “Where I’ll gladly let you work off your anxiety—in many ways.”
“Not today, Satan!” I yell while he re-enters the bathroom and closes the door.
As soon as he’s out of view, my anxiety spikes thinking about how I was once where these patients’ families are now. Fourteen years ago, I was driving my mother to her clinical trial for what we hoped would be the miracle we needed.
Fourteen years ago, it was me begging the doctors to save her.
Two months later, I was watching her casket be lowered into the ground.
There’s not always a miracle, and I lost everything, including the person I thought I was. The girl who dreamed of a perfect life with a marriage, kids, and the affection my parents shared was laid to rest beside my mother.
I sit up, take a deep breath in for a count of four, hold it, and blow it out. I refuse to let anything ruin this moment—not fear, not someone else, and I’m definitely not going to allow myself to go down a rabbit hole I can’t get out of.
Today is going to be a marathon and I won’t allow the past to shadow the possibilities of what this could mean not only for me, but for the daughter who will be asking me to give her hope.
It’s an hour before I need to be at the hospital. Thankfully, my condo isn’t far and I can make it there in ten if I push it. Which I do often.
I head to the kitchen and brew a pot of coffee, check my phone, and attempt to decide what to eat. After a few minutes, I give up, not wanting anything and decide to get ready for today.
Westin stands in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth, wearing just the bottoms of his scrubs, which hang low enough to reveal the muscular cut above his hips. His light brown hair is cut short, and he has the most incredible green eyes. It’s not hard to understand why every nurse, doctor, and intern fawns over him. He’s every woman’s version of the perfect man. Sexy, smart, rich . . . he’s the total package.