The Queen of Hearts(41)

“Yeah? It’s a good group? How do you—”

“Excuse me, Nick,” I said, abruptly standing. “I need to stretch my legs for a minute. Nice to see you.” I headed toward the door.

“Actually, I could use a walk too,” said Nick, following me. “Been in the OR all day. You know how—”

I spun around as soon as the door had shut behind us, looking right at him for the first time. Naturally, he’d aged well. He was what, six, seven years older than me? But he looked as vital and commanding as ever at six foot two, with strong, broad shoulders, a head of thick dark blond hair, and a chiseled jaw like he was made to order from a catalog of TV surgeons. His handsome face reflected some concern, probably because I was glowering at him like he’d whipped out his penis and waggled it at me.

“What are you doing here, Nick? This is not exactly welcome news,” I exploded.

His expression progressed to full-blown alarm.

“Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t . . . I thought . . . I mean, I didn’t know this would happen. I’m getting a divorce. I needed a fresh start, and there was a job opening up here, and it’s hard—harder than you would think—to find a job in a decent city right now.” He raised his eyebrows but then quickly lowered them, chastened by my stony look. “Emma, this can work out. We have to work together.”

This didn’t merit a response. “Are you definitely staying in Charlotte?”

He grinned a little, a return to the Nick I recognized. “Well, your group gave me a very attractive package. So, yes. I want to move past . . . the past. I know you think I’m an ogre, and maybe that’s true.”

I tried not to snarl.

“Emma,” he said, his expression shifting into something harder. “You should give it some thought.”

I ignored this too. “I heard you know Zadie’s here.”

“I do, yes. I saw her name on TV that night.”

“And?”

“I take it the two of you repaired your friendship?”

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

Nick stiffened. I could almost hear the cerebral cogs start churning as he realized what I wasn’t saying. An undefinable expression crossed his face.

“She still doesn’t know what you did,” he said. He began blinking, hard and fast. “Oh my God.”

Fury filled me. “How about what you did?” I spun around and started away from him, but his voice stopped me dead.

“What I did,” he said, “didn’t kill anyone.”

A drumbeat of poisonous air filled the hall. I tried to inhale but began to choke, the crystallized cruelty of his words shredding my lungs. I turned my head aside and forced myself to breathe anyway, until a cold rage accumulated in my brain. I whirled back around.

“If you stay here,” I said, “I will find a way to ruin you.”

“Emma,” he said.

“I swear it. I swear it. I will find a way, so help me God.”

“I only—”

“Get away from me.”

There was a throat-clearing sound next to us, and a familiar voice said, “Ahem.”

I pivoted. Wyatt stood a bit forlornly, holding a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. “I bought a treat for your call night,” he said. “Have I blundered into something?”

“Not at all,” I said. I strode away, forcing a calm tone into my voice as I walked. “I’m heading back to the lounge in a second,” I told Wyatt, careful not to look behind me. “Let me walk you out.”

As soon as we were a suitable distance down the corridor, Wyatt said, “Darling. Why were you having a heated discussion in the hall with that man?”

I sighed. “Wyatt. Why are you bringing me doughnuts? You know I don’t eat those.”

“A little sugar won’t kill you, beloved. I happened to find myself near the hospital and had to come up with an excuse to barge in on you, which turned out to be quite interesting. I ask again: why were you and that man so intense?”

Wyatt said this without the slightest trace of jealousy. It never seemed to occur to him that other men might be a threat, even though the hospital was fully stocked with alpha-male surgeons. But Wyatt blazed confidence.

I sighed again, giving my husband a look of fond exasperation. “I’ve got another case, Wy. I’ll call you this evening if there’s a lull. I really can’t get into it right now, but you’re right—it is interesting, in a grim sort of way. Okay?”

“All right,” Wyatt said, thrusting the box of doughnuts at me. “But eat the damn sugar bombs. Otherwise I’m going to.”

I accepted the box reluctantly, gave Wyatt a quick kiss, and headed back toward the OR.

The lull didn’t present itself until after evening rounds.

I decided to get in TICU afternoon rounds while we could, offering my beleaguered team of residents a doughnut in return for a day’s hard work. Evening rounds were informal. The team that had been on last night with me was long gone, since the Graduate Medical Education Council had limited the hours of the resident work week back in 2003. This meant that a lot of the information on the day’s events was coming from the nurses, so afternoon rounds were something I took seriously. I didn’t want to miss something vital on my watch.