Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I whisper before hurrying off the stage, self-conscious of all the attention on me as I weave back through the tables to find my seat.
Luke stretches his hand up as I pass—an invitation for a high-five—and I happily accept. “You’re a rock star, Natalie.”
I laugh and roll my eyes before finally making it back to my seat. I hurry to sit down and place the plaque on my lap under the table, trying to hide it.
I glance over to Connor, and he gives me a small nod. “Impressive.”
I blush. “Thanks.”
It’s the same award he won during his residency graduation. I know because I was there, idolizing him.
Connor and Noah have been best friends since their plastic surgery residency days. Way back when I was still in college and couldn’t even legally drink—that’s when I first met Connor. He was already an adult, a man who intimidated me to the point that I barely uttered a single word in his presence.
I was taken in by him instantly, and since then, he hasn’t been a full-blown crush as much as a lifeline for me, important in ways so few people understand unless they’ve been through medical school and the subsequent years of training that follow. It’s not for the faint of heart or the casual observer who’s seen a few episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and thinks they have what it takes to master a difficult field like surgery.
It’s grueling and at times wholly unfair, and I’m not sure I would have survived it all without Connor. I’ve used him like a soldier in war clinging to the hope of love back home, buoyed by morsels of past contact and vivid daydreams. I’ve used him to get through month-long no-rest-for-the-weary study sessions, during my intern year that felt like it’d never end, during winter nights spent alone in the call room.
His existence sustained me.
There were times I’d walk on campus between classes, and I’d unexpectedly see him outside a coffee shop, working on his laptop. It’d lift my spirits for the rest of the day. Sometimes I’d arrive back at Noah’s townhouse after twenty-four hours of being on call and there he’d be, sitting on the couch, watching a game with my brother. My heart wouldn’t slow the rest of the evening. During my residency years, he’d show up for rounds and listen while I presented, seemingly pleased with my thoroughness, though he never outright said so.
For the last few years, he’s constantly been in my life, hanging on the periphery, never close enough for my liking.
Until tonight.
Tonight, he’s sitting right beside me at my graduation ceremony.
He’s here for me.
I can’t make sense of that fact.
Do I believe Noah had nothing to do with this? Did he threaten Connor? Send him a rapid text, pleading with him to come fill one more seat at my table? I cringe at the thought. No! Please no!
I’m still worried about that possibility when the banquet ends and Noah addresses Connor. We’re standing up near my table, me holding my plaque in both hands, the two of them towering over me. They face each other and I stand to the side, feeling invisible. I always feel that way in Connor’s presence. I think it’s because he hardly looks at me. Even now, he’s focused on Noah. I could slip out the back door and he wouldn’t realize until Noah asked where I’d gone.
“It was nice of you to come, man,” Noah says to Connor. “Did Natalie invite you?”
My eyes widen in panic.
Connor shakes his head. “No. Dr. Patel mentioned it.”
I watch him slide his hands into his suit pants, his aura reeking of smooth confidence and finesse in spades. Every surgeon has an ego. It’s a survival instinct, I think, a way to ensure you aren’t a twittering fool in the operating room, second-guessing your every move. However, that ego grows exponentially if the surgeon happens to work in the plastics department. Tack on the fact that Connor was a starting quarterback in his undergrad days, and well…the man has never bowed down to a single human. We bow to him.
“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” Noah says. “I have that key for you, if you’ve decided you want to take me up on the offer?”
My ears perk up. “What offer?”
Connor finally glances in my direction and I squeeze my plaque against my chest, using it like a shield to protect what’s beating hard beneath it. His eyes are the softest cornflower blue. An unexpected color, they almost don’t fit with the rest of him. They’re a chink in his armor, I think, the one feature that tips the scales away from someone altogether too severe. I’ve had a lot of dreams about those eyes.
“I’ve invited Connor to live at the townhouse while I’m away,” Noah answers. “He’s having renovations done at his place and needs somewhere to stay for a few months. It works out great.”