How Much I Feel - Marie Force Page 0,28
out Brickell. It’s a great part of town, closer to the hospital and not a total zoo like South Beach is.”
“I’ll ask my Realtor to look there, too, but I can’t cancel on her now.”
“Then let’s go to South Beach, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”
“Duly noted.”
It takes two seconds after our arrival for me to realize she’s one thousand percent right about South Beach—and the traffic. Even on a Tuesday, it’s hopping. I can’t imagine what the weekends must be like. The bars are doing land-office business, and the beach area is bustling with people, cars, bikes and joggers. Zoo is definitely a good word to describe it.
In a past life, I would’ve loved to live here, but not now. When I’m not working, I need a place where I can decompress and relax. That can’t happen here.
The condo is located in a high-rise with an incredible ocean view and great amenities. But on the ninth floor, I can hear the street noise, even with the doors and windows closed.
Deb, the Realtor, is peppy, enthusiastic and probably already calculating her commission on the nine-hundred-thousand-dollar condo that’s all glass and hard edges and modern features. I hate to disappoint her. “I’m not feeling this place.”
“Oh, thank God,” Carmen says, breath leaving her in a whoosh of relief.
“You hate it.”
“I hate it.”
Deb is clearly offended but keeps that to herself.
“What’ve you got in Brickell?” I ask her.
“Oh, well, I’d have to look and see what’s available.”
“I think that’d be better for me. It’s closer to work.”
“Give me a minute to check the listings.”
After Deb steps into the kitchen to work on her phone, Carmen shoots me a smug smile that I find ridiculously adorable—and funny. I love that she’s not afraid to tell me how she really feels. That’s a refreshing change from women I’ve known in the past who would say what they thought I’d want to hear rather than sharing their true opinion. I dated one woman in college who never seemed to have an original thought the entire time we were together. She was all about pleasing me, and while that has its advantages, it got boring after a while.
I have a feeling I’d never be bored with Carmen, not that I’m planning to date her. I’m just saying . . . She’s unique. And so, so pretty in a natural, unaffected way that really appeals to me. She doesn’t need layers of makeup to enhance what she was born with.
Why am I thinking about how pretty Carmen is, or whether she needs makeup? I’m supposed to be focused on finding a place to live—if I end up with a job here—and restoring my reputation. Once again, I need the reminder that this is not the time to be dazzled by Carmen.
“I’ve got quite a few in your price range, one with excellent views of the Rickenbacker and Biscayne Bay,” Deb says from the kitchen, where she’s scrolling on an iPad.
Carmen gives me a thumbs-up.
So I won’t be at the beach. That’s fine. I’d hardly ever have time to take advantage of the proximity anyway. “Sounds good.”
“Let me check in with some of the listing agents and see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 8
JASON
After she walks away, I glance at Carmen. “I’m probably jinxing myself even looking at places. The board is a long way from approving me.”
“They’ll approve you. We’ll make sure of it.”
“You’re far more confident than I am.”
“We have to make it so they’d look stupid to say no to you.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
She thinks about that for a second. “Where are we with the testimonials from former patients? I was thinking we could use them to tell your story for the presentation. If there’re photos of you with the patients, that’s even better.”
I forgot I was supposed to ask my former colleague in New York about that. “I’ll reach out to Terri now.” I fire off a text to the nurse administrator, who’s the glue that holds the neurosurgery department together, and tell her what I need. I list a few of the patients I’m thinking of who might be grateful enough to share their stories of working with me. I saved their lives. Perhaps they can help save my career. “Done.” I glance at Carmen. “It’s a really good idea and one I never would’ve thought of on my own.”
“That’s because your job is brain surgery. Mine is publicity, promotion and marketing.”
I laugh at the cocky way she