Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
First, Dr. Matthews and Dr. Patel gave me hope. Hope with this experimental surgery that could restore the function in my right hand.
And second, I met a woman. A woman who made me believe there is life after Lindsay. A woman who made me want to love again.
The problem? She’s my student, and her aunt, a renowned psychiatrist, is the one trying to block me from my potentially career-saving surgery.
The Lord giveth and the Lord fucking taketh away.
I look up at the ceiling just as the elevator dings and the doors open.
Is the universe laughing at me?
Dangling a carrot in front of me?
Because there are two things right now that I want more than anything.
Angie and the surgery.
And the universe seems to have decided that I can’t have either.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Angie
So Aunt Mel knows Jason.
I really wanted to confide in her about what I’m feeling for him and then also talk to her about Ralph and his threats.
But now that she knows Jason?
God, what to do?
She checks her watch. “I have an hour before I need to leave for the airport. What did you need to talk to me about, Angie?”
I draw a breath. “It’s kind of difficult to talk about.”
We head toward the elevators. I hold my breath but then let it out slowly when I see that Jason has already descended.
Thank God.
As much as I love being in his presence, right now is not the best time.
“We can grab a snack,” Aunt Mel says.
I pat my stomach. “I’m still full from breakfast. But maybe a cup of coffee. There’s a shop on the first floor of the hospital.”
She laughs. “Oh, I know that. I spent a lot of time at this hospital in my day. I was on the board for a long time, and I still come in for special consultations, like I did today.”
“So what’s going on?” I ask. “What did you need to talk to Dr. Lansing about?”
She blinks. “Like I told you, just some board business.”
“I didn’t realize Ja— Dr. Lansing was on the board.”
“No, he’s not.” She looks at me, but her eyes are not meeting mine. “He’s just doing some consulting, like I am.”
Aunt Mel is stuck between a rock and a hard place. She told me earlier that she was seeing a patient about an experimental procedure, making sure his past trauma wouldn’t interfere with his recovery. Thanks to my internet snooping, I now know the details of said trauma.
She knows that she told me that information, and now she knows that I’m acquainted with the man who walked out of the office with her. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
But she doesn’t want to violate doctor-patient confidentiality any more than she already indirectly has, so I’ll do her a favor and lie through my teeth.
“I guess that makes sense. He’s a professor at the medical school associated with the hospital, and he’s a former surgeon who probably worked here.”
We descend to the first floor, and when the doors open, we head straight toward the coffee shop.
“What would you like?” Aunt Mel asks. “My treat.”
“Black coff— No. You know what? I’ll have a skinny mocha.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Skinny? You could use a little more meat on your bones.”
“Okay. A regular mocha, then.” I’m never one to worry about my weight. All of us Steels seem to have the metabolisms of teenage boys.
Aunt Mel orders my mocha and a latte for herself, and we take a seat at one of the tables.
“So,” she begins, “what can I do for you?”
I have to come up with something. I can hardly talk to her about Jason now that I’ve connected the dots.
Then again, this is Aunt Melanie. I talk to her about everything. I talked to her more than I talked to my own mother growing up. She and I have always been close, and she’s the reason I want to go into psychiatry.
“This is between you and me,” I say.
“Of course.” She grabs my hand across the table, squeezes it. “Everything you say to me is always just between the two of us. You know that, Angie.” She tilts her head. “Something really is wrong, isn’t it?”
“Not wrong so much as…”
“You can tell me. I noticed you seemed a little off at dinner last night and breakfast this morning. What are you struggling with?”
I open my mouth to speak when the barista brings our drinks over.
Aunt Melanie smiles. “Thank you.”
Once the barista leaves, Aunt Melanie meets my gaze. Her own seems troubled.
I take the lid off my mocha and swirl it, letting the steam escape.
“So this is really confidential between the two of us,” I say again. “You can’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone.”
“Of course not, Angie.” She furrows her brow with concern. “What is this about?”
I take a sip of my mocha.