The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

I’m dead.

I am a walking zombie after the night from hell. I’m not sure if there was a full moon or what, but three of my patients all went into labor around the same time yesterday. One ended in an emergency C-section around 2 AM, and the other two (God bless them) labored naturally for close to twenty hours total. I have practically been living at either my clinic or the hospital for the past thirty-something hours because I didn’t want to be too far away from my patient that was experiencing complications, but now that the storm is over, all I want to do is go home, shower, and pass out for maybe the rest of my life.

Even just trying to get down the main hallway of the hospital feels like I’m walking through a warped room in Willy Wonka’s factory. Everything is tunneling and the lights feel strange, like I’m floating but also dragging. I’ve worked a lot of long hours over the last few years, but this stretch feels lik

e the hardest yet. Normally, I can rest for at least an hour or two in one of the on-call rooms even when I’m needed at the hospital for extended stretches. But not this time. It was one freak situation after another, and I was a human bouncy ball, pinging all over the place.

When I pass a vending machine, I realize I haven’t eaten in…well, I have no idea how long. I barely know what day it is now. My stomach grabs me by the collar of my scrubs and screams at me to feed it. I’m tempted to flatten myself against the glass and nap for one tiny minute before the protein bar drops. I don’t get the chance, though.

“Hi, Dr. Marshall!” A nurse named Shannon pops up beside the vending machine, ponytail perky, fresh-faced for her shift. Since I feel like death warmed over, her exuberance for the morning makes me want to grimace. “I heard about that emergency C-section you did earlier for the twins—uh-mazing! I wish I could have been here to see it.”

I lean down and shove my hand into the slot, the flap thing scraping against my hand as I pull the protein bar out, and I wonder why they haven’t discovered a better way of making these things yet.

“Yeah. It went well. Thanks.” I try to smile, but it doesn’t work. My brain is no longer sending signals to my face apparently. Must. Get. Home.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and start unwrapping the protein bar while walking toward the doors. Shannon falls in step beside me, and I find it odd. We’ve never talked outside of dealing with a patient or exchanging pleasantries.

“Cool! So…have any fun plans this weekend?”

“Sleep,” I say around a bite of the bar. Normally, I’d give a better effort at conversation, but not today. I can’t. I’m about to give up on everything and curl into a ball on this nasty hospital floor then sleep for a minimum of eight hours.

“Oh, yeah! I bet you’re exhausted. Well…”

I can see the sliding double doors. I’m almost out of here.

Shannon takes two extra steps to get a little ahead so she can turn and face me, walking backward. “After your beauty sleep, if you’re bored and need something to do, I’m around. Call me.” She wrinkles her nose in what’s supposed to be a cute smile before she hands me her number on a piece of paper and bobs off, but I don’t like it. Not one bit.

First, I’m not going to call her because I have a policy of not getting involved with anyone I work with. It’s just how I do things. It makes life easier and drama-free in my career. Second, I’m not going to call her because if I do manage to get any downtime this weekend, I will use it to do absolutely nothing.

My sister, Lucy, and her four-year-old son, Levi, were living with me until about a month ago when she married my best friend Cooper. Before she lived with me, Cooper was my roommate, and before that, I roomed with a few other guys from med school. It’s been years since I’ve lived alone, and I’m ready to enjoy my empty house on my time off. Maybe I’ll walk around in my underwear. No—naked! Yeah, that’s it, I’ll become a nudist when I’m home. Free to sit my naked butt anywhere I want.

I’m six feet from the exit when another nurse steps into my path. For the love.

“Dr. Marshall! So happy I ran into you!”

What is happening? Is this a joke? Does everyone know I’m about to die of exhaustion and they’re pranking me? Because honestly, nurses don’t talk to me like this. I always have a firm, unapproachable wall up.

“Hey…” I trail off because I do not know her name.

“Heather! I’m Heather. I assisted you on the Murphy family’s birth last week.”

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, Heather.” Not right. I don’t remember her.

She smiles wider. “Yeah, no problem. Anyway, just…wanted to see if maybe you’d be interested in getting a drink at some point? There’s a really great bar on 2nd Avenue I’ve been wanting to try.”

Am I in some sort of twilight zone? What. Is. Happening?

“Uh—thanks for the offer, I really appreciate it.” I really appreciate it?! What am I, turning down a job offer? “I actually have a rule, though, that I don’t date colleagues. It just keeps everything simple; you know?”

This time I do muster up a smile, although I’m afraid it looks closer to a grimace. Oh well. Everyone needs to get out of my way so I can go sleep. Heather does not get out of my way. She stays firmly in the way.

“Sure, and that’s a great rule.” Her shoulder hitches up coyly. “But surely you could make an exception just this once.” Her lashes flutter, and it makes my eyes feel even drier. “I bet we could have a really good time together.”

Nice job. Subtle as a freight train, Heather.

I’m not proud of it, but I’m in survival mode now, so I pull my phone from my pocket and look at the screen, pretending to be getting a phone call at six in the morning. “Sorry, I don’t think…oh, excuse me, I gotta take this.”

She looks crestfallen for sure, but I don’t stick around long enough to give her a chance to respond. I hike my backpack more firmly onto my shoulder and press my phone to my ear. I make it two steps and then Siri asks loudly, “How may I help you?”