“You’ve got that look, Ren,” he grins at me in the mirror as he ruffles through his duffle bag.
Westin Grant is a very attractive man. I can’t seem to help myself with him. I’m lonely in every part of my life, except when I’m with him. My feelings border on something more than friendship, but I can’t afford to let myself go there. If I think about it, maybe his comment before isn’t such a surprise. Every now and then, Westin will make a joke about finally calling this more than casual sex or moving in so we can stop with the back and forth. I never really thought much of it, but now I wonder if he has been hinting all along.
Does Westin really want more? Or does he like the idea of us together for real? Do I want more? The answers to these questions have to wait because I can’t think about it today.
I can’t think about anything right now. I have to stay light and playful and focused on the tasks of today.
“I like your butt,” I say with a shrug. “Especially in scrubs.”
He laughs, turns, and pulls me against him. “Yeah? Well, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen when you’re scrubbing in for surgery.” Westin kisses my neck. “The way the soap moves up and down your arms, I can almost feel your soft skin.” His voice is full of desire, and I’m trying to resist the pull. “I want to strip you down right there, touch your body, and finally tell everyone what we are.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup,” he runs his tongue along my ear and I shiver. “It’s too bad today isn’t the day for a morning round.”
I lean back, holding onto his neck. “Today is a day to save lives, and that’s what this new dose of chemo is going to do. Then you can say you get to have mind-blowing sex with the ground-breaking, award-winning oncologist at Northwestern.”
“So, I’m just your boy toy?” he leans in for a kiss, which I give freely.
“Pretty much.”
He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well, Dr. Badass, you better get in the shower before you’re late for your own pre-trial.”
“Do you think I’m crazy?” I ask.
His eyes narrow. “Crazy? Well, in what way?”
“For this . . . the whole trial. It could fail, and then what? Hell, what if the board doesn’t allow it to proceed today and then I have to tell these people that I can’t do it? I must be fucking insane for trying this!”
Westin deals with a different side of medicine, one that I’m a little jealous of. He saves more people than he loses. He can repair things, where I have to be methodical and sometimes it doesn’t matter. Cancer will take their lives and I’ll have no way to stop it. I’ll watch a disease blacken everything around my patients, knowing I’m completely helpless. There are seldom times that Westin can’t do something to help.
“You’re not crazy, Serenity. You’re brave, beautiful, and the best damn oncologist I’ve ever met. I think you’d be crazy for not doing this. You’ve already made it through phase one and two, this is the time to see where it can really go.” Westin brushes my blonde hair off my face and smiles.
“And what the hell do I do if they cancel it?”
He pulls back a little. “Who? The board?”
“Yeah, there’s no guarantee they’ll push it through. I mean, they’ve approved it so far, but since Dr. Pascoe was out for the last two weeks, and the meeting got postponed, now I’m worried.”
It’s what has me feeling so uneasy. No one ever can predict the hospital’s choices. One day they are on your side and the next the publicity is too much of a risk. We should’ve had this fully approved weeks ago, but Dr. Pascoe, the current president of the hospital, was dealing with an emergency and told me to push along as though we had the approval since delaying would change some of the patients’ situations. Time is of the essence for us.
Westin releases a deep sigh. “There’s a chance they won’t, but it’s all about how much you believe in it. Do you think doing this cocktail instead of surgery is worth the possible risk of a life?”
I look in his eyes, showing him the steel in my words. “One hundred percent. I know the data is inconclusive and can be argued, but I know it, Wes. If I could get this opportunity to prove it . . . I know this is the right dosage so that these women don’t have to lose everything. We can shrink the tumor enough to remove it, treat the cancer, and leave the patients able to bear children. These women, some of them are in their twenties and thirties, and they have hopes and dreams. If it was me, and I had those dreams taken away, I can’t imagine what I’d do. But what if I can give them more choices? What if they don’t have to lose it all or die?”
He holds my gaze. “Remember this feeling, because if you suffer with a loss, you’ll need this determination to push you through.”
The memory of Westin a year ago comes back. I’ll never forget how broken he was. We started our fling a year before he started his last trial. He was a cocky surgeon who wanted to be casual. Then his trial went downhill, and Westin retreated. No one could get him to talk, except for me, after he’d . . . worked off his pain. That was when our very casual fling became a friendship with sleepovers.
My chest tightens as I wonder if I’ll be the same way if this doesn’t work. “I can’t go there,” I say. If I admit defeat before the fight, it’ll be a massacre. I need a victory.
“Good. You have to believe it’ll work because it’ll carry you through. And just know,” he runs his thumb across my lip, “I’ll be here every step of the way.”
Sometimes, he does something and I don’t know how to respond, and this would be one of those times. He says things that scare me, and I know he sees it. There are no steps for us. The next level doesn’t exist. This is all I’ve got to give.
A long time ago, I learned that love doesn’t guarantee happiness.
I will never love Westin.
I will never love anyone again. Not after finding out what losing love feels like.
“Westin,” I say as a warning.
He takes a step back with his hands up. “I know, I know. I’m just saying as a doctor. If you need a consult, and of course, any kind of testing, to ensure it’s working the way you hope.”
That’s not what he meant, but I’ll give him the out because he gives me mine. “Right, sorry. I should’ve known that was it . . . I’m being stupid with all this. I’m sorry to think it was something else.” I shake my head as though I’m embarrassed. Westin may be amazing, but he still needs to be a man. My father was the one who taught me about the need to preserve a man’s delicate ego—or my mother did, actually.
My mother walked on water, but the real miracle was how she handled him. Mom was able to make him believe she needed him when we all know she could’ve done anything on her own, and probably better than he could.
She would tell me that men like having their feelings fluffed, and by doing so, they fluffed your own.
My mother was a smart woman. I miss her every day.
Westin needs me to fluff him a bit.
“Stop,” he chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “You’re overthinking things with the trial today. I wasn’t clear. Speaking of the trial,” he trails off and looks at his watch. “You better get moving.”