Abruption (8 page)

“I have to go, Ma, I’m at work … yes, I will speak to her, promise … I really have to go … Ma … Ma, I. Have. To. Go … Love you, too. Ciao.”

Mercedes strikes again.

I ended the call and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. I loved my family to death, but they bordered certifiable. And even though my baby sister should probably be labeled an angel, navigating peer pressure, college, and boyfriends all under Alonzo and Cecilia Chiappetti’s roof, I could also see my parents’ side. I may have talked her out of branding herself with a car insignia, but I guess in her mind an eyebrow ring didn’t seem as permanent.

I massaged my temples and silently thanked God for the five millionth time that my scholarship to Columbia covered room and board, and I got through the self-expression stage without any additional holes. Before I self-inflicted (more) wrinkles, necessitating a premature trip for Botox, Cara popped through our shared office door.

“Oh, Jules, you’re still here. The front desk’s looking for you—I told them you left. Thought you were only covering until ten?”

“I was. I just stayed to work on my pilot proposal.”

“Look at you, two months on the job and already making a difference. Let me know if you need anything, I’d really love to help. I think your pet therapy program is an awesome idea. You’re inspiring, girlfriend.” Cara was my nurse-manager counterpart and a real sweetheart. She was a few years younger and hard into the dating scene; otherwise, we would have probably hung out more.

“Thanks. I can use all the support I can get.” And I meant it. My presentation before the hospital board was a week away. “Do you know why the front desk needed me?”

“Oh no, it wasn’t them. Dr. Hunter was looking for you. I have to run—I’m already late for spin class. Call me later.”

The sun, moon, and stars must have aligned and I missed it. Why else was Guy Hunter looking for me? All admissions came through me, so I would have known if Finn was being readmitted, and thankfully, I hadn’t laid eyes on that cutie pie since his overnight stay eight weeks ago. His extensive work-up turned out negative. He never spiked again and was released with a clean bill. More often than not, this was the case with fevers of unknown origin. Thus, the name. It was frustrating as all hell.

As for Hunter, Sr., I wish I could say I hadn’t seen him either, but I wasn’t lady luck. We had two awkward run-ins. Yep, not one but two.

The first was a few days after Finn’s discharge, when I randomly caught him and two of his residents from the corner of my eye and did what any normal, polite human being standing alone in an elevator does when the doors begin to close on people approaching. Okay, so maybe
normal
people take note of their arms being weighed down with a tray of makeshift craft supplies before waving at the elevator sensor, but that was beside the point.

Needless to say, it wasn’t pretty—my cheeks lit up and Poppa Personality forwent the customary “thank you,” rolling his steely blues. His residents graciously rushed to pick up everything I dropped (which was just about everything). The orbital dismissal was complemented nicely with his declaration: “I’ll take the stairs.”

Dick.

There I said it. But he deserved it.

Actually, he deserved it after he dismissed me in the ER and told me he didn’t have time to speak to me, thinking I was a new grad. Then he deserved it when he repeatedly rolled his eyes like a spoiled teenager and scowled every time I opened my mouth with valid freaking points and suggestions. And he really deserved it when he humiliated me, making me blush yet again in front of the neuro fellow when he said he didn’t trust me to essentially change a Band-Aid. So I wasn’t feeling guilty for saying it. Nope. Not at all.

The second charming experience was right after my initial lobbying with the hospital board. Ecstatic they asked me to organize a formal proposal, I zoned out and smacked into Hunter and Dr. Guillory. Literally. With unlady-like force.

Luckily, my new favorite pediatrician steadied me on my three-inch heels before I face planted. I might have deserted corporate America, but I still strongly believed in the effectiveness of the power-suit with pumps, especially in the boardroom. Guillory laughed off the collision and asked, “What’s the rush, hot date tonight?”

Totally awkward, but I went with it. “You know it!” Somehow the humor was lost on Hunter, who, again, rolled those freaking eyes after scanning me head to toe.

Double-Dick.

Now it was slipping right off the tongue.

Whatever. His issue with me was just that—his issue. I wasn’t losing sleep over it, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.

“Hey, ladies. You know what Dr. Hunter needed?”

“Child, if I only knew, I would’ve already auctioned off my husband. Found
it
. And given
it
to that man on a silver platter.” Lorraine looked at her front desk partner in crime, high- fived her and erupted into a fit of giggles. Two grown women gone gaga.

Look, I wasn’t blind. He was definitely attractive, but he was also a double-dick.

“Cara said he was looking for me.” I tried to regain their focus.

“Ya think? He only called three times, then dragged that tight, scrub-covered ass up here to harass us. Do us a favor when you see him. Tell him that just because he’s all sorts of delicious, we can’t just drop everything at his request.”

“We can’t?” Coco asked and Lorraine
lost
it.

“Ooh-kay. Thanks, ladies. I’ll figure it out.” Couldn’t say I didn’t try. The ladies were too busy fanning themselves to see me leave.

Last stop, my office for my coat and purse and then my stomach had a date with some food. Or maybe not.

“Um. Hey.” A waft of clean outdoors and something else temporarily distracted my hunger pains and filled my small office. Looked like he found me. His towering frame leaned against my desk.

“I was writing you a note.”

“I can see that.” I eyed the paper with my name scribbled at the top. He hadn’t gotten too far.

“I called.”

“I heard.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, as if he was annoyed with
me
, and paused to inhale before asking, “Why couldn’t they find you?”

Huh?
Not sure how to answer, I didn’t. Instead, I crossed my arms and shrugged. I owed him nothing, and I certainly wasn’t going to coddle him after his recent immature behavior toward me.

“So you’re going to make this difficult?” he asked.

Tempting, but instead I countered with, “What do you need, Dr. Hunter?” The intoxicating effect of his smell wore off and my hunger pains were back.

“I need your help.” His eyes softened. They weren’t apologetic or overly friendly, they were … genuine. “Finn’s asking for you.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

Because it was.

During our brief trot down the few flights, he explained (shockingly not acting like the D-word) how Finn needed routine follow-up blood work, which he usually had drawn in the ER by one of few nurses Guy trusted and Finn was comfortable with. Until today. Finn supposedly wasn’t “cooperating.”

It was blatantly obvious from across the bay that Finn was in the throes of a good old-fashioned meltdown. There was flailing; there was screaming. He looked like a mini-possessed lunatic, and if he wasn’t flinging his body around on the bed, he would have gone boneless. Actually, Finn looked like he perfected that phenomenon lying down.

“Hey, buddy. Whatcha throwing a temper tantrum for?” I approached the little screamer with caution.

Guy glared at my question. “Something must be wrong. Finn doesn’t have temper tantrums.”

“I hate to break it to you, Dad … he’s three. He’s not special. And he’s having a temper tantrum. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
And he might look like an angel, but no, your child doesn’t walk on water.
I didn’t say that last part, but I was tempted. For a surgeon, he wasn’t the brightest and needed to pull his head out of his ass. I dismissed the two nurses handling Finn like Venetian glass and took over. Their collective sighs after Guy approved made me chuckle a little.

“Hey, handsome, I heard you were asking for me.” Finn kept screaming. “And I heard your dad offered you your favorite pizza if you’re a big boy and let me take a tiny bit of blood. You know I’ll use that special gel, doesn’t hurt at all.” More screaming. “Okay. I’m going to count to five then I’m leaving. No blood work, but also no yummy pizza for your belly. Your choice. One, two—” The screaming morphed into swallowed gulps. “Three—” Hiccups. “Four—”

“Yemon yi- (hiccup) ices, too (hiccup), JuJu?”

He seriously was as delicious as a lemon ice itself. And to top it off, JuJu, my nickname melted my heart. I lifted his glasses from his face, careful not to snag the Power Ranger sports band tucked between his curly locks, and wiped his tears with the sleeve of his thermal shirt.

“Absolutely.” I tapped the tip of his nose—family habit, I couldn’t help myself—and replaced his lenses. “That reminds me, I think this boy deserves some of Alonzo’s famous water ice. To this day, he insists my mom only married him because it’s the best ever!” I winked at my little friend and caught Guy staring sans the glare this time.

“My mommy’s in heaven. You know heaven?”

Caught so utterly off guard, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach, and I had to take a moment to catch my breath before answering. “I do know heaven, sweet boy. Heaven is home for all the beautiful angels. I bet your mommy is looking down on you right now.”

“Maxie says Mommy’s a real angel. She flies super fast like Tink.” He whipped his little arms above his head, imitating the tiny sparkly fairy. A small smile tugged at my lips, appreciating his precious reference.

Your heart will fly on wings forever.

“Well, you’re one lucky little brother because you have one smart big sister. Angels are definitely real … beautifully real.”

The stifling climate finally abated when Finn’s smile reached his eyes. Somewhere during our conversation, Guy’s gaze drifted to his phone and remained statue-still, as if his screen saver held magical answers. Unfortunately, magical answers didn’t exist. I could not believe Finn and his sister lost their mother, and Guy lost his wife. Overcome with a myriad of feelings—curiosity, sadness, empathy—I said … nothing. Yep, I said absolutely nothing.

Awkward.

Finn tugged my arm. “JuJu, I hungry, I hungry.”

“Right, handsome.”
Right
. I swallowed the platitudes that were stuck between my brain and lips and focused on what I could actually fix. I’d yet to find words of sympathy that held any healing power, so I pushed up Finn’s sleeve and went to work.

“See, nice and quick. All done. You were a rock star.” I disposed of the sharp and sticker-labeled the vials. “And boy, do I have the perfect Band-Aid for you.” I rummaged through the bin and covered his barely visible prick site.

“Powya Rangers! Now it peeza time?”

“Well, I most certainly think you earned it. What do you think, Dad?”

Guy palmed Finn’s head and dipped down to kiss his forehead. “Strong work, buddy. I know I promised you pizza,” he squeezed his chin and studied his watch, “but Daddy has to go back to work.”

He was joking, had to be. Finn’s bottom lip started to quiver. “You pwomised.”

“Don’t worry, bud. Maya will be back in twenty minutes from her appointment, and I’ll have her take you. You can play in my office until then.”

Oh God, he was serious. Because that’s what a three-year-old with his heart set on pizza wanted, to play in his office. How mean. Empathetic towards him or not, it was my turn to shoot eye daggers. He must have felt them pinging him, because he turned and tried to explain. “I didn’t plan on this taking two hours.” He gestured toward the vials of blood as if that made a difference. Then his broad shoulders deflated a millimeter. If I hadn’t been on the receiving end of his towering arrogance several times already, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. Except he did seem off somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

He’s flustered.

“I’ll take you. I love pizza.” It came out in a rush.

“Huh?” Yep, Guy said
huh
. Definitely flustered.

“JuJu peeza! JuJu peeza! Peeeeeeeese.” Finn was no fool. He dragged out that “e” in please for as long as possible and flashed those dimples. The kid from Jerry McGuire had nothing on him.

“Why would you do that? That’s crazy. Maya will be back soon. She knows I have a one o’clock case.”

“It’s pizza. Really not a big deal. And besides, I’m hungry, too.” My stomach growled almost on cue. Charming.

A puzzled look spread across his face. “Seriously? You’re going to take my kid to lunch?”

This wasn’t some sneaky abduction scheme. Really, the pizza place was around the corner. Sheesh.

“JuJu peeza!” Finn cheered when he realized he’d won, if this was even a battle to be won. Guy was hard to read. Especially today.

I refrained from doing my own celebratory dance because, one, it might have been a little strange and inappropriate, and two, no one ever really needed to see that. I said, “Perfect. It’s settled. Pizza time.”