17

Nooooooo!”

Taylor and Samiah’s matching mortified shrieks made London feel marginally better about her own reaction to the situation with Nina.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she told them as she angled her computer monitor down a bit. The glare from her office’s fluorescent light made it look as if Taylor had a glowing sword growing out of her forehead.

“Do either of you want to trade places with me this weekend?” London asked. “I promised my stepmom I would talk to Nina on Saturday, and I’m afraid I won’t be as magnanimous or calm as I probably should be in this situation.”

“You couldn’t pay me to trade places with you,” Samiah said. “But try not to be too hard on her.” She held up a hand. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t put the fear of God in her, but remember how it is to be fourteen and seeking attention from a boy you like.”

“Don’t even get me started,” Taylor said. “We would be here all day if I had to list all the regrets of fourteen-year-old Taylor. Your little sister is still too young to grasp just how close she came to getting herself into a shitload of trouble with those pics.”

“I know,” London said with a sigh. “Drew said the same thing. But it’s—”

“Drew?” Taylor and Samiah both exclaimed.

“So, you’ve already talked to Drew about this?” Samiah asked.

“I—” London started, then stopped.

It suddenly occurred to her how odd it was that she had gone to Drew first instead of Taylor and Samiah. For the past six months, ever since she’d met them, she had immediately called on these two whenever she needed to talk through something.

“Huh.” Taylor sucked her teeth. “See what happens when you start getting some dick? You just toss your friends aside like yesterday’s trash.”

“Oh, shut up,” London said with a laugh.

Samiah shrugged. “Hey, I can’t say I blame you. He’s giving you something that neither of us can.”

“Um, hello!” London waved at the computer’s camera. “Remember who you’re talking to here. I am not replacing my friends with a man—especially one who is temporary. Once the Orgasm Train pulls out of the station, I will be right back to blowing up both your phones and begging you to join me for margaritas.”

“Oh, speaking of, I have to miss the two Friday get-togethers,” Samiah said. “Trendsetters has a gala this Friday and I’m flying up to Philly to meet Daniel’s parents next Friday.”

“Whoa, that’s huge,” Taylor said.

“Why is it a big deal? Jamar has met your parents,” Samiah pointed out.

“Yeah, but we were just pretending to date at the time,” Taylor said. She scrunched up the side of her mouth. “Well, we were sorta pretend dating. The sex we had in the guest room at my parents’ house was very, very real.”

“See, two weeks ago, I would have been pissed at you for bragging about that,” London said. “Now?” She hunched her shoulders. “Doesn’t even bother me.”

“You have been a lot calmer now that you’re getting some,” Taylor agreed. “But, look, even if Samiah can’t be there, do you want to still get together? Actually, I’m not asking, I’m straight up saying that I need to see you, London. This stupid math class is kicking my ass and your brain is the only thing that will help me get through it.”

“Absolutely!” London said.

“I just remembered that I promised Jamar I’d come to this thing at the high school where he’ll be coaching this coming Friday, but does next Friday work?”

“Sure. Come over to my house. We’ll order in some Thai and I can take a look at your assignments.”

“You’re a bit too excited about doing her math homework, and I find that very disturbing,” Samiah said.

“Nobody asked you.” Taylor stuck her tongue out. “I need to get out of here. My creative writing class starts in like twenty minutes, and huge surprise here, but I actually like this one.”

“Really?” London asked. “So the coping techniques you’ve been using for your learning disorder have been helpful?”

“Seems that way,” Taylor said. “It also helps that I’m writing manga, which I love. And that my story is totally kick-ass. I’m thinking I just may become a famous writer in my spare time.”

“This coming from someone who hated the thought of anything to do with school just a couple of months ago,” Samiah said.

“Don’t get it twisted. I still hate everything else about school,” Taylor said. She stood, and a framed, poster-size photo of her boyfriend, Jamar, wearing nothing but a football helmet over his groin area hung on the wall behind her.

“Holy shit!” London said.

“Where the hell are you?” Samiah screeched.

Taylor turned to the picture. “I’m in the pool house, or my she shed, as Jamar calls it. I’m redecorating.”

“What exactly did you have to promise that man in order to get him to pose for that picture?” Samiah asked.

“You don’t want to know, but it was worth it,” Taylor said. “Talk to you two later.”

She disconnected from the video call, and Samiah’s face instantly took up the entire screen.

“I’ll deny it if you ever say anything, but I’m regretting not taking a screenshot of that picture while Taylor was still on the phone,” Samiah said.

“You and me both.” London slung her stethoscope around her neck. She had rounds in another five minutes. “So, are you nervous about meeting Daniel’s parents?”

“Not as nervous as I was when I didn’t get my period this week, but yeah, there’s some nerves.”

“Bitch, what?”

“Don’t worry, it finally came and I took a pregnancy test just to be sure, but if I ever considered questioning whether I was ready for kids, I have my answer,” Samiah said. “Shit, the guy they’ve put in my old position is texting me again. I swear, I’m doing both damn jobs. Good luck with Nina,” Samiah said. “Remember, don’t go all London on her.”

“It’s hard for me not to take that as an insult.”

“It was meant to be one,” Samiah said, sending her an overly sweet smile.

“Bitch,” London laughed before ending the call.

She was still smiling as she gathered a collection of toys and sugar-free candy to dispense during rounds, but she couldn’t help but think about what she would have felt if she’d faced what Samiah had this week.

Pure, unadulterated panic.

For someone who worked with kids every day, she couldn’t accurately describe her terror at the thought of having one of her own.

London had found herself in that situation exactly one time in her life, during her sophomore year of college. The ten minutes between when she’d peed on that little stick and when the single line had appeared were some of the most fretful moments of her life. She knew a bunch of women who had raised kids on their own—her own mother for one, because even when Kenneth had still technically been her husband, he’d never been there in any meaningful way—but it was something London had never wanted for herself. She had devoted her life to helping other people’s kids, which suited her just fine.

That incident back in college had been enough to scare her into being overly cautious when it came to protecting herself against pregnancy. She tracked her cycle religiously and made sure she didn’t come within five feet of sperm when she was ovulating. Not that she’d had that to worry about this past year.

Shit, you do now!

She pulled up the ovulation forecast app on her phone and checked the calendar.

Good. She still had at least a few more nights of worry-free fucking before she had to put the kibosh on sexy times with Drew for a couple of days. She was already regretting the lost time. They might have to double up some nights to make up for it.

As much as London hated to admit it, she would miss him when he went back to New York.

“You’ll miss the sex,” she murmured.

Fine, so maybe she would miss him too. Just a little.

That admission was so much harder than she expected, which said a lot about how this casual hookup arrangement had gotten completely out of hand.

Last night, wrapped up in Drew Sullivan’s arms post-orgasm, she’d felt zero desire to leave his bed. Even after she had left, she’d considered turning back around up until the moment she put the key in the lock at her own house just after midnight.

She’d gone from just hooking up with a guy she hardly knew to being totally dick-whipped in a matter of days.

No, she wasn’t just dick-whipped. That she could handle. London was starting to…like him. She actually liked talking with Drew Sullivan. He listened and didn’t try to mansplain or offer suggestions on how to fix her issues.

“Goodness, you cannot fall for him,” London said, hoping to God that she wasn’t already there.

She put Drew out of her mind and turned her focus to the eight patients currently occupying beds on the surgical floor. As she left her office, London spotted Aleshia marching down the corridor. The other doctor grabbed her by the hand and pulled London back inside.

“What’s going on?” London asked.

“That’s my question,” Aleshia said. “Is the rumor about the new telehealth system true?”

“Where did you hear about that?” Trident had only discussed it with the group of ambassadors an hour ago.

“Where I heard about it isn’t important—except for the fact that it didn’t come from you. You’re supposed to be my spy on the inside, remember?”

“I’m not spying,” London said. “And, to answer your question, yes, one of the changes Trident will likely propose is utilizing telehealth to cut back on in-person care delivery.”

“I knew it.” Aleshia folded her arms over her chest. “So, did you share with the folks at Trident why practicing medicine via smartphone is not the best move for this hospital?”

“Initially,” London said. She had never been one to shy away from technology, but she adamantly opposed the impersonal nature of telehealth.

Until Drew hit her with the cold hard facts.

He shared statistics from over a dozen hospitals Trident had worked with this past year, and the results didn’t lie. Increasing virtual visits had no adverse effects on patient care and lowered operating cost substantially.

“What do you mean by initially?” Aleshia asked.

“I’ve seen the numbers,” London said. “Not only will it save County millions over the next five years, but surveys from patients who have switched to majority telehealth visits show that they’re just as happy with their care. And it saves them time. Think about the people we serve and how many of them have to catch several city buses to get here or take time off from work.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Aleshia said.

“Neither had I, and if I’m being honest, I’m a bit ashamed,” London admitted. “In all this time, I never really looked at telehealth from the patient’s perspective—at least in the way it would make life easier for them. We both pushed back against it because we believe face-to-face is better, but is it up to us to make that choice for our patients?”

Aleshia released a sigh. “Fine. I get what you’re saying.” She turned and London followed her out of the office. “Just don’t let Trident get rid of the slushie machine in the cafeteria,” her friend added. “I understand budget cuts are necessary, but let’s not go too wild.”

“I promise to fight for your slushie machine, even if I have to chain myself to it,” London said.

“It’s why I love you,” Aleshia said.

London’s laughter trailed off as she continued down the hallway, her mind returning to the debate she’d had with Drew and his team over implementing a more robust telehealth program at County. London’s argument had been based on her gut and emotions. Trident’s was based on logic and substantiated data.

She prided herself on putting her patients’ well-being above everything, but how often did she make decisions for them based on what she believed was best without considering how those decisions would affect other aspects of their lives?

The thought left a sour taste in her mouth.

She would find time for a little soul-searching later. Right now, she needed to focus on the kids due to have surgery soon.

She walked into the room of her first patient, Ahmad Jefferson, and found him playing a spirited game of trash can basketball with Drew. So much for her focus.

“And what exactly is going on here?” London asked as she walked over to the whiteboard to the right of the mounted television.

“Give us two minutes, Dr. K,” the fifteen-year-old cancer patient told her. Towing the IV standing behind him, he did a half-spin move and skirted around Drew’s left side on his way to dunking the balled-up wad of paper into the wastebasket, which had been hung up on a second, out-of-service IV stand.

London folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall, watching them go at each other.

She could tell Drew was taking it easy on his opponent when it came to the physical game, but he pulled no punches when it came to the trash-talking. As she watched them, she wondered where Drew stood when it came to kids. Did he have any interest in eventually starting a family, or did his job take up too much of his time?

Why are you even thinking about this?

Drew Sullivan’s procreation plans were of absolutely no concern to her.

“All right.” London clapped her hands. “That’s enough, LeBron and Steph.”

Ahmad looked at her with wide eyes. “What do you know about LeBron James and Steph Curry?”

“I know enough,” London said, taking hold of Ahmad’s IV stand and guiding it back to the bed. She stood by as he climbed in, smiling at his Marvel Comics pajama bottoms.

“Are you ready for next week’s surgery?” London asked.

He nodded. “Not sure my mom is, but she’s coming around.”

The fifteen-year-old had undergone eight surgeries in the last three years. London had been there for seven of them. She’d witnessed the toll it had taken on his family, how frightened his parents were every time their son was wheeled into the operating room. She could not fathom what it was like to wait helplessly while a team of strangers took a scalpel to your child.

“Don’t worry about your mom,” London told him. “I’ll put her mind at ease as much as possible before the surgery. Will she and your dad be here later today?”

“After they get off work,” he said.

“I’ll try to drop back in. Meanwhile, no more basketball for you. Your body needs rest.”

“That’s okay. I was tired of kicking his ass anyway,” Ahmad said.

“Sir,” London said in a chastising tone.

“His butt.”

“Hey, I let you win,” Drew said. “Do you think I brought my A game to a kid with cancer?”

“Don’t even try it, dude. You were huffing and puffing like a chain-smoker by the second game,” Ahmad said.

“That was acting. I wanted you to think you were getting to me.” Drew looked over at London. “That’s a lie. He was kicking my ass—butt,” he amended.

She burst out laughing. “No more basketball for either of you.”

“Thanks for the game,” Drew said, holding his fist out to Ahmad. The fifteen-year-old bumped it with his own fist, then picked up his cell phone. And, just like that, both London and Drew had been dismissed.

“Hey,” Drew said once they were out of Ahmad’s room. “I hope that was okay. You know, the little pickup basketball game.”

“It’s fine. As long as he doesn’t overexert himself. It’s actually good for him—anything to take his mind off the fact that he’s facing another long surgery next week.”

“He seems like a good kid.” Drew glanced up and down the corridor, then at his watch. “Can we go to your office for a few minutes? Well, more like twenty minutes.”

London narrowed her eyes at him. “You remember what I said about doing”—she looked around them and lowered her voice to a whisper—“those things here at the hospital.”

He leaned toward her and whispered back, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dr. Kelley. This has nothing to do with those things.” Drew laughed. “No, really, it’s about an outpatient program here at County. I want your take on how effective you think it’s been this past year.”

Okay, so maybe she was a little disappointed he had work on his mind instead of…things. Which was ridiculous because they were following her rules when it came to this line between the personal and professional.

“I have evening rounds in like one minute,” London said. “But I should be done in about forty-five. Maybe an hour.”

“Will that be the end of your shift?”

“If nothing comes through the ER between now and then.”

“In that case, I’ll wait for you. And, if I’m doing my math correctly”—he looked at his watch again—“you’ll be done just in time for me to take you to dinner at an actual restaurant. Like friends. Isn’t that something?”

She rolled her eyes. “You just don’t know when to quit,” she said as she started toward the next patient’s room. She couldn’t hold back her grin at the sound of Drew’s laughter behind her.