She, the Kingdom (She #1)
Olivian Pope
Chapter One
“You’re joking,” Amelia said, her mouth hanging open.
A flash fire began beneath my cheeks and spread to the rest of my face. I motioned for her to keep her voice down. The hospital cafeteria air was bloated with chatter, but I didn’t want to chance anyone hearing. She knew better than to draw attention to our total inappropriate conversation.
Amelia and I had the same lunch hour for seven years, sat at the same corner table, and talked about the same things in different ways. While I‘d been married, she’d been single. Now that I was divorced, she was married. She’d cross her long, caramel-colored legs for the entire fifty-two minutes we were seated, twisting one ankle behind the other, for extra twistiness.
Amelia covered her mouth with her elegant fingers, the cuticles manicured, the nails tipped white and filed to perfection to go with her new diamond wedding set. Amelia was now the Missus of Dr. and Mrs. John Heathington. She’d been the first person I’d met my first day in Mercy Hospital’s finance department. I remembered seeing her as I’d passed by to find my cubicle, thinking that her long, tawny hair shined, even in the dark. She’d watched me pass with curiosity in her eyes, and flashed a welcoming smile. I’d known then that we would be more than just colleagues. Seven years later, we were both directors of different departments, but we still had lunch together every day.
Amelia’s hair was still as shiny as it was when she was twenty-one, her waist still as trim, her shoulders still as toned. I tried not to compare myself to her; after all, her Brazilian mother had been one of the first Sports Illustrated swimsuit models. Beauty was in her blood. Her father was a Swede, and her ocean blue irises matched his perfectly.
My blood contained a lot more carbs—more specifically, fried foods and noodles. Bowls and bowls of seafood, fatty meats, and potatoes as far back as Chile was old. My mother was Chilean, my father Canadian. They had met somewhat in the middle—the US—and the result was a daughter with a head full of dark, frizzy curls and barely-olive skin. Not nearly as exotic as Amelia’s, which could explain why she’d snagged the hospital’s most eligible bachelor first, even though I’d been the one to introduce them. If both of them didn’t have amazing personalities to go with the looks and bank balance, I would have given it a year, but there Amelia was, happily Mrs. Heathington. It would have been too easy to hate her. Even if she was my best friend.
“Morgan, tell me you’re joking. Not even once? Not even close? That’s my preferred avenue of the Big O. How did I not know this?”
I glanced around at the suits and scrubs, the doctors and administration chatting about anything but orgasms and oral. “It’s just not my thing. It makes me uncomfortable. I can’t relax.”
“Not even with Nick?”
I bristled. Amelia knew better than to say his name.
She covered her mouth again. “Oh, gosh, Morg. Oh, darn dang it.”
I feigned shock, looking around. “Tone it down, sailor. You’re going to get us both fired.”
Amelia’s cheeks turned red. She could discuss cunnilingus in the middle of the hospital cafeteria, but swear words were beyond her comfort zone. Even the lame ones. Amelia was bright, practically radiating her own personal sunshine. I supposed that was what John found so irresistible, besides the obvious in the beginning. Then he got to know how amazing she truly was.
“Are you free this weekend, or…?” I began, already knowing the answer.
“We’re volunteering Saturday afternoon and Sunday evening. We’re free next weekend.”
I was part of a we once, although we never said we. Nick was Nick, and I was Go Ask Mom, and our kids became my kids. The worst part was that Josh and Hannah were relieved when we split up, even though I’d hesitated for two years, because I was worried how my leaving would affect them.
Someone wearing Barbie pink scrubs sat next to us and leaned in. “Did you hear?”
“Oh. Hey, Rhonda. Rhonda, this is Morgan Clarke. She’s the director of the finance depart—”
“Hi,” Rhonda said, anxious to get on with her gossip. She brushed her graying, permed hair away from her face. She matched her lipstick to her scrubs, but colored outside the lines more than once. I was hesitant to believe anything she was about to say. “Half the administration is being let go today. They’ve been calling people in all morning. The Director of Radiology was first.”
Amelia giggled. “What? That’s ridiculous. The hospital can’t function with fifty-percent admin.”
I didn’t want to believe her, but panic began to spread throughout my body. “Oh my God.”
“Morgan,” Amelia said.
“Mercy was just bought by Appalachian Valley Medical. It was finalized last week.”
“Morg,” Amelia warned. “Don’t worry about something unless you have something to worry about. I don’t want you sitting up all night… again.”
I frowned. Amelia frequently worried about my inability to sleep. I was a natural night owl, but she was sure it was due to insomnia or anxiety. In truth, the thought of sleep was just boring to me. I often wished I didn’t have to sleep at all.
“He’s here,” Rhonda said. “Maxwell Kingston.”
“Maxwell Kingston?” I chose to whine the name instead of shriek the way I’d wanted. “What kind of name is that?”