“Any other updates?” she asked, redirecting the conversation back to work.
“Well, I’m trying to get Dex to see Mr. Torres, but he’s uncooperative.”
“Really?” she asked. “I thought after the good week he had, he would feel confident again.”
I shrugged. “Guess not.” I dropped my gaze and looked into my coffee, which was full of cream, sugar, and spices…basically heaven in a cup.
“Did you two butt heads over it?”
“You could say that…”
“Oh no. What happened?”
I lifted my chin and looked at her again, knowing I should just tell her because she would hear about it from Dex at some point. “I made an appointment for Mr. Torres next week. When I told Dex about it, he got pretty pissed off. He told me to cancel the appointment or he’d fire me.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you cancel it?”
I shook my head. “And I showed up to work today like nothing happened.” I took a sip of the warm coffee. “I’m not gonna budge. Maybe I should be more sensitive and let him take his time, but I know Mr. Torres’s life is on the line, and I can’t let Dex avoid it forever. I’m afraid if I don’t push him, he’ll never be ready.” I expected to be berated for taking this serious situation into my own hands, to be warned about how reckless it was to force a doctor to provide care when he wasn’t ready. But I believed Dex was more than ready to do this operation, that his impeccable skills had never changed, that his knowledge and intellect were just as strong as always. It was just the fear—and that fear would never go away until he conquered it.
After a long pause, Cleo gave a nod. “You did the right thing.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise.
“That’s exactly what he needs, Sicily. You’re the perfect person for this job. Because he needs someone who cares more about his success than pissing him off. I’m sure Dex will come around on his own and pull his head out of his ass, so just give him some time. I swear to you, my son is the best man in the world. He’s just not quite himself yet.”
I worked at the clinic that day because I conducted interviews.
We needed an extra person for the office, a nurse who had experience in cardiology to help Dex do the things I couldn’t. There was no point in hiring someone right this second when there were no patients to be seen, but I took a gamble and assumed Dex would be ready soon, soon enough to see Mr. Torres on Wednesday.
I wasn’t just looking for someone who was qualified, but someone who was pleasant, someone who cared about the work we were doing. I hadn’t officially hired her yet, but I was certain I was going to choose Andrea, a nurse who had spent two years in the Doctors Without Borders program, traveling to underprivileged communities and providing health care and vaccines to people who didn’t have access to basic things we took for granted. I needed to talk to Dex before I officially hired her, but I didn’t go out of my way to see him.
I sat behind the main desk, alone in the office, the solitude so loud it was easy to forget I was in a big city, sitting at nearly the top of a skyscraper. Once I was finished there, I’d have to head over to Dex’s new apartment and let the designer in so she could begin moving the furniture inside.
When Dex found out about that, I wondered if he’d threaten to fire me again.
Didn’t want to think about it.
The elevator beeped before the doors opened.
My eyes turned to see who’d mistakenly come to the wrong floor.
But it was Dex.
He walked inside, in black jeans that fit snugly on his toned thighs, black shoes, and a dark blue hoodie with the two drawstrings dangling down his chest. His hard body stretched the cotton over his large chest, over his muscular arms. Even in baggy clothes, he had definition in his body that couldn’t be denied. If I saw him on the street, I would never figure out he was some brilliant surgeon because he was so laid-back and down-to-earth.
He took a look around as he came closer to the main desk, and once he was nearby, he turned his head and looked at me for the first time since his outburst yesterday. He must have seen the lunch I left for him while he was in the lab, along with his things neatly organized. He came closer then rested his arms on the high countertop, his hands coming together as he glanced at the space behind me, where the other computers and printers were.
I stayed quiet, unsure what he wanted to say. Did he actually come here to get Mr. Torres’s information so he could cancel the appointment? I’d be really disappointed if he’d rather devastate a dying patient than just move forward.