Hotshot Doc(73)

“Just to be clear,” she says, leaning in and dropping her voice so only I can hear. “Holding hands right now is as good as getting on a loudspeaker and announcing to everyone that we’re a couple. If you want to be discreet about this, I’d let go if I were you.”

“I’m not letting go,” I reply confidently.

Her mouth forms a perfect O.

I lift my chin. “Are you changing your mind?”

“About what just happened in that bathroom?” she quips, lazy smile back in place.

“About agreeing to give us a try.”

She laughs. “Ooooh, I didn’t realize that’s what was happening back there.” I shoot her a teasing glare and she wiggles her fingers against mine. “Fine. Okay! Yes! Let’s give us a try, but if it doesn’t work out, you have to tell everyone I’m really good in the sack and super smart and that I left you.”

She’s teasing but her words still sting.

She tries to catch my eye, but I tug her along. “C’mon, it looks like Josie finished her book and there’s a group of boys trying to talk to her.”

“Oh good! Scare them all off, will you? She’s not allowed to date until she’s 40.”





I was worried about how people would treat Bailey after our little show. I probably should have given her the choice about where and when she’d like to inform people about our relationship, but…well, things happen. Our plan was to leave soon after getting back to Josie, but there were too many people eager to hear news about June and her recovery. I hadn’t even told Bailey the best of it: June tested positive for motor and sensory function this afternoon. She’ll still need physical therapy, but I have no doubt she’ll regain normal use of both legs. I watch Bailey’s face as I tell this to the group of surgeons crowded around us. Her eyes well up and she forcibly swallows as if that might keep her emotions at bay. I want to wrap my arm around her and tug her close, tell her she has as much to do with June’s recovery as I do, but my colleagues crowd in like a tidal wave, eager with questions.

I play at politeness for a little while, appreciating how sour Dr. Goddard’s face is every time we make eye contact from across the room. Dr. Richards and Dr. Smoot are quick to amend their original stance on the subject. “We didn’t have the forethought you had, Dr. Russell.”

With the amount of press coverage from the case, New England Medical Center won’t be hurting for surgical patients any time soon.

As the night continues, I give Bailey every opportunity to break free and save herself. She could go hang out with the other surgical assistants or find her sister, but instead, she stays by my side. My colleagues notice. They try to be sly about it, but they’re definitely inspecting how close we’re standing. They pay careful attention when I whisper something in her ear and Bailey smiles. A few of them even toss her a question or two about June’s case, and to Bailey’s credit, she doesn’t cower. She lifts her chin and holds her own in a group of egotistical surgeons, every bit as confident as the day I met her.

No one asks about our relationship outright. I think they’re minding their business because they know better than to pry.

Bailey thinks that’s hilarious and informs me they’re actually whispering nonstop behind our backs, but no one is brave enough to ask us directly if we’re dating because they’re terrified of me. I smile at the thought. There is one person who’s brave enough to address the elephant in the room, though.

Patricia walks by at one point with a plate of desserts in hand. She pauses beside us, drops her chin, and stares pointedly over the brim of her glasses at our joined hands. Then she emits a half-interested hum and keeps walking. That’s it.

“I swear she smiled a little,” Bailey insists, watching her walk away over her shoulder.

“Patricia? I’m not sure she knows how to smile.”





The snow’s still coming down hard when we finally manage to escape the party and I insist on driving Bailey and Josie home. Bailey’s conspicuously quiet in the passenger seat. Her hands are wrapped around her purse and I can see the edge of a present sticking out of the top—my present. Josie, meanwhile, sits in the middle of the back seat, doing her best to catch up on all the changes in the last few hours. For every question a colleague of mine suppressed at the party, Josie asks five.

“So you two are really dating now? Like it’s Facebook official?”

“I don’t use Facebook,” Bailey replies quickly. “But sure, yes. Can’t you go back to reading now?”

“I finished my book. Harry’s back at Privet Drive for the summer. So, Matt, can I call you that? Or do I have to call you Doctor?”

I laugh. “Matt’s fine.”

“Right. Matt, have you had many serious girlfriends in your life?”

“A wife.” I meet her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Does that count?”

“A WIFE?!” Josie acts outraged, and I have to stifle a laugh as Bailey drops her head in her hands and groans.

“Why don’t you just let us out here?” Bailey suggests. “Yes, this is fine. We’re only, what, four miles from our house?”

I ignore her and give Josie a CliffsNotes version of my relationship with Victoria.

“So it was ages ago?” Josie asks once I finish.