Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,29
word. If you really want to show me how sorry you are, leave. Again.”
I watched his face as I said it. There was a moment, a tiny one, when his expression was unguarded. The hurt I glimpsed countered any triumph I might have felt for finally speaking my truth. I only felt ashamed. I had to fight the age-old instinct to gather him to me, to comfort him.
“I’m going,” I told him, suddenly feeling tired. I successfully moved around him without touching him and made my way to the door on unsteady legs, grasping the doorknob before I turned back.
Nick still faced the spot I’d just vacated. “I missed you, Z. Miss you.”
“Goodbye, Nick.”
He straightened and turned to me. “I just want you to know. I loved you, with everything I had. I’ve never loved anyone that way. And I never would have left you if I’d had the choice. I’m sorry I disappointed us both.”
I turned and walked out, before I embarrassed either of us by letting the hot rush of tears blurring my vision spill onto my cheeks.
Carly met me in the hallway, having just left a patient’s room. She offered an uncharacteristic smile, brandishing her clipboard. “Got another one!”
“That’s great.” I attempted a smile, nodding at what I assumed was a signed consent form. “Can you do me a favor, Carly? Mr. Rossi is in the capture station. Can you make sure he makes it out alright and finds his way back to the lobby?”
Her face lit up. “Oh, of course. I’d be happy to.”
“Great. I’ll see you at the staff meeting this afternoon.”
“You sure you’re alright, Dr. L.?”
I paused in my tracks and turned back. This time I didn’t feel the same strain of artifice in my smile.
“I will be.”
Chapter Seven
Zora
When the email arrived in my inbox early the next day, I realized I’d been expecting it, holding my breath in anticipation of its arrival.
Because you could never really escape the malignant works of fate.
Sitting in my now-partly rehabbed office, I took a deep breath and marshaled all my strength before opening the bold, unread item in my email inbox.
It was short, perfunctory. The invite requested my presence that very afternoon with Dean Peter Gould and several other names I’d never seen before. It was sent on behalf of an administrative assistant outside of the School of Medicine. Dread pooled in my gut with each search performed on the unknown invitee names.
They’d brought in the big guns. They wanted me in attendance.
Shit.
By the time I strolled into the fancy conference room in the one of the hospital’s administrative suites, I’d almost accepted my fate.
Almost.
But I sure as hell wasn’t about to go down without a fight.
Peter was already seated at the highly-shined wood table, nattily attired in one of the obnoxious bowties in the university colors he seemed to favor, with matching suspenders. He attempted a smile when I entered. It looked like a grimace.
I tacked the corners of my mouth up and made nervous small talk with the other attendees. The Vice President of Patient Experience, Allie Nevers, was there. I’d worked with her extensively in the past and always enjoyed her brash sense of humor and commentary. She made things interesting, at least, and we’d gotten pretty good at teaming up to control the flow of discourse so that it worked in our favor. Our strategic support of each other had helped turn the tide of hospital administrator’s sentiments over communication training, and led to the implementation of our wildly successful program. She was a strong support and ally, and I hoped she could throw me a rope.
I could already tell I was badly in need of an escape.
As the meeting started and introductions went around the room, I couldn’t help but wonder what merited the attendance of high-ranking hospital administrators. Curiouser and curiouser . . .
“As you all know,” Peter began, “our visitor from this last week, Nick Rossi, has presented a solution to integrate new innovation into our patient interactions. This application, and the advent of telemedicine, represent an exciting opportunity to reach patients who might otherwise struggle with access to health care and this hospital. This allows us to extend our reach.”
I frowned, wondering when he’d started using commercial-speak. This guy spent most of his time scaring the hell out of medical students. Now he was excited over an app?
“We are by no means suggesting this application will replace face-to-face interactions. I can’t imagine a world in which that would ever