“He did?” I ask, unable to hide my shock. Dr. Crawford is a renowned surgeon offering a highly competitive trauma fellowship. I hardly got a few words in with the guy. I’m honestly surprised he remembered me at all, let alone got an impression.
“Yes. And I told him you are one of the most promising resident surgeons I’ve seen in a long time. He was quite impressed to know you were performing Whipples indistinguishable from your attending.”
We start moving down the hall.
“Don’t tell him that mine were better,” I joke, though it’s true.
“I’m happy to write you a letter of recommendation,” she goes on. “If you do apply for the fellowship—and I think you should—let me know. I hate to see you leave my hospital, but you’re a damn good surgeon. This is the right path for you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Miller.”
She gives a curt nod. “Of course.”
We go in opposite directions, and as I get into the elevator to go to the cafeteria, my head starts to hurt. My very first thought was to call Quinn and tell her the good news. Only…is this news good? Following my career goals has been everything to me. Surgery has been my life for the last several years, and I’ve been dedicated to being a doctor since I got into college.
It was my life.
Do I really want to work long, crazy hours for two or three more years? I’ll have to start a job search after that, and who knows where I could end up. Though with the more schooling I get, the more I’ll earn and the easier it’ll be to find a place that’ll want me.
Yes, all that was my life before. But now my life has something greater in it, and for the first time ever, I’m completely torn on which way to go.
9
Quinn
I take off my heels and reach inside my dress, unclasping my bra. It’s Wednesday night and I just got back from dinner. I’m dying to call Archer and let him know how things went, but he went in for surgery an hour before I left and said he’d call once he was out, and I still haven’t heard from him. I never realized how much surgeons work until I started dating Archer. No wonder they make so much money.
I slip my bra off, breathing in relief as soon as it hits the ground. I turn on the TV and feed the cats, then sink down on the couch with my phone in hand. Dad texted me during dinner, asking how I was feeling. I reply to him and search through Netflix for something to watch.
I’m dozing off when my phone rings. It’s still on silent from dinner, and it takes me a minute to locate it under the blanket I’m snuggled up in. It doesn’t help that Neville’s fat butt is laying on top of it.
“Wes?” I mumble when I see his name. It’s late. Why is he calling me? Panic instantly sets in and I answer quickly, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Aunt Winnie,” Jackson’s little voice comes through the phone. Oh, thank God. Nothing is wrong. He just took Wes’s phone and called me. He does this from time to time.
“Hey, buddy. What are you still doing up?”
“Daddy had to catch bad guys. I was at Grammy’s house.”
“I bet you had fun. Are you supposed to be asleep?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s your dad?” I ask with a laugh. Jackson doesn’t answer me, and I hear him shuffling around. Then the phone beeps as he FaceTimes me. Seeing his face makes me instantly smile.
“You look pretty, Aunt Winnie.”
“Awww, thanks, Jackson. And you look cute.”
He scowls. “I’m not cute. I’m handsome like Daddy.”
“Oh, you are for sure. You’re growing up too fast, mister.”
He starts showing me his new toys and a minute later Wes comes in, asking who he’s talking to.
“Oh, hey, Quinn,” he says, taking the phone.
“Glad it’s just me?”
Wes widens his eyes and nods. “Yeah. It could have been you-know-who. Though I don’t know if that’s even her number anymore.”
He’s talking about his wife, who ran out on them two years ago and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. I’m not one to hate people, but I fucking hate that bitch Daisy.
“You’re dressed up,” Wes comments. “Did Archer take you out?”
“No, I went out with a rich old guy and his boyfriend,” I say seriously.
“That’s interesting. Did they at least buy you an expensive dinner?”
“My meal alone was over a hundred bucks. If I could drink wine, I would have ordered the three-hundred-dollar glass.”
Wes laughs. “Sounds nice. I’m guessing it was for work?”
“Yeah. And the boyfriend is actually a professor at MIT. Not one I had, but he remembers me and wants me to come speak at graduation next year.”
“Wow, that’s awesome, sis!”
“Thanks. I’m not sure if I’ll do it. You know how I hate people and public speaking, and graduation will have both.” I shift my weight, getting comfy on the couch. I need to get up and shower, but I’m too tired to move. And Neville is snuggled up with me. It’s basically a crime to move him. “But, I know how encouraging it can be to hear my tale or whatever.”
“So you agreed to it?”
I wrinkle my nose and nod. “I have a year to fret over this. Maybe I’ll get Archer to prescribe me Xanax or something.”
Wes laughs. “Logan said things are going good between you and Archer.”
“Yeah. Very good.” I’m unable to keep the smile off my face when I think of Archer. Jackson tries to take the phone back, jibber-jabbering away about how he likes playing cars with Archer. Wes tells him he can’t have the phone, and a crying fit breaks out. Hardly able to hear anything over the fuss, I tell Wes and Jackson goodnight and hang up.
It takes me another twenty minutes to muster up the energy to get up and get into the shower. My thoughts are on Archer and I bring my hand down, sweeping it over my clit. It sends a jolt through me, and I rinse off quickly, wrap a towel around myself, and get into bed. Reaching over to my nightstand, I open the top drawer to find my vibrator that I keep stashed under a folded pile of old t-shirts I never wear.
And then Archer calls. I pull the covers up over me just enough to stay warm and answer.
“Perfect timing,” I say, closing my eyes and thinking of Archer’s body on mine.
“For what?” he asks, and his deep voice turns me on even more.
“I just got out of the shower and am really horny. I was going to pleasure myself.”
“Fuck, Quinn.” Archer lets out his breath. “I’m still at work.”
“That’s not my problem. I’m at home. In my bed. Naked and wet from the shower.”
“You’re killing me, you know that, right? I can’t go back into the OR with a hard-on.”
I giggle. “I’ll wait until you’re off the phone to start then. I don’t want you to get in trouble for rubbing one out in the break room or something.”
“I might not even get that far. Fuck, I want your pussy.”
“Keep talking like that, Dr. Jones, and I won’t be able to wait. Actually, are you done with work yet? You were in surgery for a really long time.”
“Six and a half hours,” he sighs. “Perforated bowel from a bike accident. It was a mess.”
“Is the patient okay?”
“He will be. I fixed him up.”
“You’re not done for the day though?”
“Not yet. I have to do rounds on my patients. I had to take a break and get something to eat. And talk to you.”
“I could totally make a joke about me and eating, but I want you to be able to concentrate on work.”
“Thanks, though the visual is there now and it makes me miss you even more.”
“That was my mission. To make you miss me and give you blue balls.”
“Mission accomplished,” he says and puts something in the microwave. “You know a good thing about having my parents in town? My mom brought me dinner.”
“That is nice. I miss my mom’s cooking.”
“
Speaking of dinner,” Archer says. “How was dinner?”
“Good!” I cuddle down under my covers and tell him about it. Then he’s paged and has to hurry back inside to the OR. I trade my phone for my vibrator and think of Archer.
I sit at my desk, drumming my fingers on the surface as I scan through a file that was just sent to me. It’s nearing lunchtime, and I’m both starving and nauseous. Again. Supposedly this feeling will go away, but right now, I’m convinced it’s my new normal and I’ll always feel like I’m going to throw up, even after this kid is born.