“Not to mention the cost of the surgery itself,” Dr. Smoot chimes in. “You’re talking about a figure well over a hundred thousand dollars. Our department has a certain amount set aside for pro bono cases, and you’ve maxed that out, Dr. Russell. How exactly do you plan on covering this case?”

  I’m seething. I knew there might be some resistance from my colleagues, but I didn’t think they’d take it this far.

  I stand up and offer a tight-lipped smile to the room. “Thank you for the information, gentlemen, but my patient and her parents are due to arrive any minute. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  “Dr. Russell!” Dr. Goddard shouts, but I don’t pay him any attention.

  I’m still shaking with rage when I finish climbing the stairs back to the sixth floor. I slam open the door to the stairwell and storm into the hallway. Bailey’s pacing a few yards away and when she catches sight of me, she beams.

  “They’re here! They just arrived! Patricia has them set up in the conference room.”

  As I step closer, the hope twinkling in her eyes only makes me angrier.

  “Good,” I reply dryly. “They’ve arrived just in time for me to inform them there won’t be a surgery.”

  Chapter 23

  BAILEY

  I didn’t think we’d get here: standing in the operating room, seconds away from starting June’s surgery. The room is quiet, tense. The low hum and periodic beeping of machines are the only break in the silence. I’m looking to Matt, waiting for his cue.

  It’s not just him and me at the operating table today. There’s a second surgeon with us, a friend Matt completed his fellowship with—Dr. Mitchell. He took a red-eye to be here in time, and he’s working for free. In fact, we all are; it was part of the negotiation Dr. Russell made with the hospital.

  The other spinal surgeons are up in the viewing gallery now, watching us like hawks. Their stuffy lawyers sit behind them as cheerful as the four horsemen of the apocalypse, but other than that, the gallery is empty. It’s strange considering this is a hallmark case in Matt’s career. Residents should be clambering over one another to get a front-row seat.

  Matt follows my gaze and shakes his head, correctly guessing my thoughts.

  “They don’t want an audience in the event that I fail.” He laughs sardonically. “In their opinion, the fewer witnesses the better.”

  “Dr. Russell?” The anesthesiologist dips his head around the drape. “Is there a reason for the delay?”

  We’ve already completed the time-out. There’s no reason for us to be standing here motionless, but then, I’m not Matt. I haven’t put my career on the line to take this case. I might have fought tooth and nail to be standing here with him, but if things go south, it’s not my name on that surgical board. It’s not me those parents will turn to, looking for good news about their daughter.

  Matt clears his throat and glances up at the clock. “Right. If everyone is good to go, we’ll begin.” He reaches his hand out, palm up toward me. “Bailey, ten blade.”

  I was the first one to meet June when her parents brought her into the hospital. Patricia needed to get back to the phones, and I was as good a point person as any. I was surprised by how happy she looked sitting in a wheelchair beside her parents. Happy and thin, her fragile frame seemed in danger of toppling over in a heavy wind, but there was a fierceness in her eyes that I could relate to.

  I stood in that room while Matt explained to them the challenges he faced in performing the surgery. Not only did it come with a whole slew of risks, but on top of that, it would be extremely expensive.

  After years of paying for cancer treatments by remortgaging their home, taking out loans, and maxing out credit cards, June’s parents weren’t in a position to offer much, but Matt was determined not to let that stop him.

  On top of all that, we still had the hospital to contend with. Back in his office, Matt, Patricia, and I worked tirelessly, trying to come up with a solution that wouldn’t involve Matt being slapped with a lawsuit from the hospital. I could tell he was at his wit’s end, so I spoke up, throwing out a simple, ruthless suggestion.

  “Why don’t the other doctors and the legal team meet her? They’re the ones who don’t want to do the surgery. Why should you have to be the one to tell her no? Make them do it.”

  It took some convincing, but between Patricia and me, we wrangled the three surgeons into the conference room. Dr. Goddard was the easiest to sway, though technically I did promise him it would just be him and me in there and maybe there were some suggestive hand gestures I’m not proud of.

  Matt gathered everyone else, including the head of the surgical department, the person who really could make or break it for us.

  I’d warned June what it might be like, that even after pleading her case, the hospital might still say no, but I soon realized I’d underestimated her sheer will to overcome the obstacles life had thrown at her.

  Matt and I stood outside the conference room with her parents. June had requested to speak to the other doctors in private, a feat I’m not sure I’d have had the courage to do if I were her.

  I watched as those eight men sat silently, listening as one brave girl fought for her right to have this surgery. I watched as tears gathered in her eyes, but they never fell. She spoke bravely, keeping it together just long enough to win her case.

  When all three of the surgeons walked out of that room, I knew she’d convinced them to change their minds. I knew it even before Dr. Richards sighed and before Dr. Goddard lifted his head and offered Matt a resigned glare.

  The head of the surgical department was the last person to leave, and he said simply, “I won’t let the hospital eat the cost of this surgery.”

  “I never said it would,” Matt said calmly, aware of how close he was to winning. “I already have a team in place, willing to work for free. I’ll cover the cost of supplies and any devices used during the procedure.”

  He shook his head and brushed past us, defeated.

  I wanted to punch the air. Instead, I turned to Matt at the exact moment he turned to me, both our eyes saying, HOLY SHIT! WE DID IT! and in that moment, I could have flung my arms around his neck and kissed him senseless.

  June’s surgery is long and meticulous. I’ve endured difficult surgeries with Matt before, but this is different. I’ve never seen him so tense. His attention to detail is only surpassed by his inability to trust himself. I can see it in the way he rolls his shoulders and when he tilts his head from side to side, as if trying to loosen himself up. He’s let everyone’s doubt seep into his head. He’s worried about making a mistake. I want to shake him and remind him who he is: Dr. Matthew C. Russell, a freaking superhero if I’ve ever seen one!

  Instead, I stay quiet and focused. If something goes wrong, it won’t be because of me.

  Six hours in, he insists I take a break and eat something. I want to protest, but I don’t want to waste any of his time or energy arguing, so I do as I’m told and let another surgical assistant take over for me. Matt doesn’t get a break though. Even if he could, I don’t think he would take one. This is what he was made to do, what he’s trained his body to endure. He won’t leave that operating room until June does.

  After I run to the bathroom and scarf down a protein bar, I pass June’s parents in the waiting room. I can’t speak with them, though I wish I could. June’s mom catches sight of me and I offer her a small smile. I don’t linger long, but it’s still enough time for things to go sideways in the operating room. As I step back out of the elevator, I hear curses and shouts and then I realize it’s Matt yelling from down the hall.

  I break out into a sprint, grab a mask, and slam my hand against the swinging door in time for him to bellow out, “Page a vascular surgeon and get someone up here. NOW!”

  Shit. That means he’s nicked an artery. June’s losing blood and every machine in that operating room is blaring at us to do something. I scrub in as quickly as I can then step into a new surgical gown. I shout at someone to tie the back for me and my hands are pushed into sterile gloves. In a few moments, I’m already back at the operating table, grabbing the suction handle from Dr. Mitchell so he can better assist Matt.

  “Her anatomy isn’t textbook,” Matt explains to me, to himself, to everyone. “There shouldn’t have been a fucking artery there.”

  It’s a tense few minutes while we wait for the vascular surgeon to arrive. I suction as best I can, but then Matt takes over for me, worried I’m not doing enough. They add another unit of blood. People are scrambling, and then finally, the vascular surgeon arrives.

  “I’m occluding the ruptured vessel, Dr. Brown,” Matt shouts impatiently as she walks in. “Get over here.”

  She’s calm compared to the rest of us, but then I suppose you have to be to go into such an intense specialty.

  After a few minutes of working in silence, she assures us confidently, “The vessel is clamped.” Then she twists her head a little to the left so her headlamp better illuminates the surgical site. “You,” she says, speaking to me. “Suction right here until I tell you to stop. Quickly—I need this area clear if I’m going to suture.”

  I do exactly what she tells me to and I’m rewarded with a nod.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t tackle this yourself, Dr. Russell,” Dr. Brown says as she sutures the tear in the artery. I watch her steady hand, amazed at how meticulous her movements are. “You could have done it.”

  “I didn’t want to take any chances with this patient.”

  I glance up, trying to meet his eye, but his focus is on June. I understand. We’re still in the middle of battle and there’s a chance—now more than ever—that this won’t work out the way we want it to. This was a toss-up even in the best of circumstances, and now, with this… I don’t let myself finish the thought. I have to stay optimistic.

  I think of that girl fighting in the conference room and I try to stay calm for her, try to endure this as bravely as she endured that.

  I have a realization during that surgery with Matt, a sort of are-you-a-freaking-idiot slash come-to-Jesus moment. I have this epiphany mostly because there’s a lot of time to think during an eight-plus-hour surgery, a lot of time to take stock of your life and decide whether you like the direction you’re headed in or if you need to change course.

  It’s obvious to me now more than ever that the feelings I have for Matt aren’t going to go away just because I’d like them to.

  Working with him complicates things because it’s hard to be around a man like Matt and not engage in at least slight hero worship of him. In the operating room, he’s a force to be reckoned with. A little bit of me has a crush on his surgical abilities alone, but the real problem is that outside of the OR, he’s even better. It’s hard to see the good side of Matt because he’s made of tough stuff, grit and ego and many layers of muscle (as evidenced by that towel situation a few days ago), but there’s a lot to love underneath all that. He’s a man who fights for children who can’t fight for themselves, a man who donates his time and money not because he wants notoriety or appreciation but because something inside of him needs to do it. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a more selfless human.

  It’s funny because I think if I asked him if he thought he was a nice guy, he’d say no, which is exactly the point. He doesn’t see what I see, and maybe not many people do, but now I can’t un-see it: the real Matt, the soft version of him that cuddled with me on that couch.

  Suddenly, I want to be the woman who gets him, in and out of the OR.

  I’ve pushed him away from the beginning because by anybody’s standards, it was the safer, better option. A passing crush isn’t worth jeopardizing my career over, but now I’m confident this isn’t just a crush. Now I think I might be stupid if I don’t jeopardize my career for him.

  There are other surgical assistant jobs.

  There is only one Matt Russell, M.D.

  Chapter 24

  MATT

  I feel exhaustion deep in my bones. I could fall asleep in an instant and stay asleep for a week. I’ve experienced difficult surgeries, but none of them have come close to June’s. I want a celebratory milkshake and a celebratory nap. I’m scrubbing out by myself, collecting my thoughts and trying to convince my body it can calm down. I force another deep breath. The fight is over. June is getting wheeled to a recovery room and in a few minutes, I’ll go to the waiting area and have the privilege of letting her parents know their daughter’s surgery was a success. I’ll skip over the parts where my heart was pounding and serious doubt crept in, when I nicked her artery and clamped my fingers on her vessel to curb blood loss, when I waited with baited breath as we took the final x-ray and measured the curvature of her spine.

  Her spine is as it should be, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll regain full function of her lower extremities once the inflammation subsides. The human body is a finicky bitch.

  We just have to hope for the best.

  I finish rinsing the suds off my hands and reach for a towel. Bailey’s still inside the OR, helping clean up. I know she’s just as tired as I am. The last few days haven’t been any easier for her, and yet she’s in there laughing with one of the nurses, doing her part to turn the room over for the cases that will come after the holidays. She doesn’t have to stay in there. I told her to scrub out and go home, but she insisted on helping. It’s been three days since she slept with me on that couch and ever since then, she’s been in the trenches right alongside me, doing everything from prepping the OR to checking in on June’s parents.

  On top of that, I know she’s been going home to take care of Josie. She mentioned that she went to the grocery store after work yesterday, which means she took the bus from here, to the store, and then home, and probably didn’t get there until after nine. When I asked her why, she shrugged and explained, “Josie requested spaghetti with meatballs. It’s her favorite.” Simple as that. As if anyone would do what she does on a daily basis.

  This morning, she was in the office extra early, coffee in hand, hopeful spark in her eyes. She was excited for this case. She rocked back and forth on her heels in my doorway, anxious to be put to work, and in that moment I realized she loves this world as much as I do.

  She was vital in this case. In fact, she’s the only reason I made it through today.

  I watch as she waves bye to the nurses and techs and pushes past the swinging door to join me. Her raised brows let me know she’s surprised. I should be finished by now, but I was taking my time, thinking.

  “How do you feel?” I ask hesitantly, throwing my towel in the hamper by the door.

  Her short laugh is mixed with a heavy sigh. It says it all.

  “This might have been the craziest day of my life. I could collapse on this spot and never get back up.”

  I chuckle and lean back against the doorjamb, fighting back an audible sigh. It’s no bed, but it’s pretty nice. “It’s definitely one I won’t forget.”

  She turns and presses her cheek against her shoulder so she can look back at me. Her mouth is curved into a thoughtful smile, but I can only see the very tip of it. “I can’t believe you pulled it off.”

  I return her smile, fighting the urge to step closer. “It wasn’t all me.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, turning back to wash her hands.

  Anything outside of food and sleep shouldn’t be on my mind, but I still want her. I always want her.

  “Matt, you’re amazing. What you do for people…it’s—” She shakes her head and stares down at her hands. “I’m just happy to even be in the same room with you. I’m really glad I took this job.”

  My heart swells and I have the sudden urge to tell her about the grant and everything that could happen if they award it to me, but there’s not enough time. I need to go talk to June’s parents. They’ve waited all day to hear about their daughter and I won’t keep them waiting any longer.

  I tell Bailey that then nod to the door. “Come with me?”

  She’s taken aback by the suggestion. “Seriously? OKAY! I’ve never done that before.”

  I notice I have a few missed calls from my mom waiting for me when I finally get home. She asks me about Christmas and demands I let her know my plans. I’ve completely forgotten we’re only a few days away from the holiday. Red and green decorations crowd every available space at the hospital. The doctors’ lounge is filled with tins of gingerbread cookies, bags of fudge, and cartons of fruitcake my colleagues insist they have to get out of their houses while patting their growing midsections.

  My mom has been pestering me about whether or not I’ll be at Christmas dinner for weeks now. I haven’t decided. I could use the time to catch up on work. It sounds infinitely more tempting than enduring a meal in which my mom asks me if I’m seeing anyone and then follows up her line of questioning with not-so-subtle hints about how my ex-wife has moved on and is due to deliver her first child any day now.

  I wonder how Bailey will spend the holiday. Her house was already decorated weeks ago, so clearly, she celebrates. Maybe she has a big family with lots of cousins, but somehow, I doubt it. From the little I’ve heard, it seems like it might just be her and Josie.

  Even with the day I’ve had, I have a hard time getting to sleep that night. I thought I’d hit my mattress and instantly be dead to the world, but I’m staring up at the ceiling, one hand on my chest, the other behind my head, still thinking about Bailey.

  I can’t remember the last time I had feelings for someone like this. It’s like I’m back in high school, like Bailey is the unattainable girl next door and I’m the nerd who can’t get her to agree to a date. I should just accept defeat.