Chapter 2

I walked to Examining Room Eight and lifted the chart from the tray. Trying to be inconspicuous, I lifted a page of the chart and stole a quick glance back down the hallway again. He was leaning against the wall, watching me.

“Thank you for your most generous donation to our hospital, Mr. Steel,” Dr. Drake Summerfield, the hospital administrator, said to him as he walked around the corner.

I looked down at the chart in my hand again, pretending not to notice.

A brunette woman suddenly walked up to stand between the two men, dressed in an impeccable Channel woman’s suit with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, carrying a leather legal-pad folder. She was gorgeous, despite her effort to downplay her looks by wearing square, black glasses that matched her black suit. But on her, they were chic. She looked over at Mr. Steel and followed his gaze to me. She quickly snapped the leather folder shut in an effort to claim his attention, but he didn’t notice.

I tried not to pay attention.

I turned around, hit the elevator button, and waited. When I looked down the hallway, Mr. Steel was still watching me. I averted my eyes, but kept stealing glimpses at him inconspicuously. He was gorgeous and it was hard not to look … eye candy. His assistant scowled and walked away. A moment later, the elevator arrived and I quickly slipped in and hit the button to close the door. I took a deep breath, leaned back against the elevator wall, and closed my eyes, trying to clear the image of Mr. Steel from my mind.

The elevator door opened a moment later. I sighed, taking a moment to regain my professionalism, and then headed down the hallway, stopping before a patient’s door that read Christina Deluca. I took the chart down from the tray beside it and pushed the door open.

A young girl was lying on the bed, her skin pale and waxy. A pale blue scarf was wrapped around her head, and a beautiful dark blonde wig with light blonde streaks set on a mannequin head on the counter beside her bed.

She looked over at me and a smile spread across her face. “Ciao, il dottor Reynolds. Come stai?” Christina asked. She was feeling terrible, I was sure, but she asked me how I was in Italian, her native language. She had been my patient for two months now. After she arrived from Italy with her parents, she was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a form of cancer. She was only eighteen.

I knew little Italian, having only taken two semesters of it in college. I wished that I knew more so that I could communicate with her with ease, but I did my best.

“Bene, grazie,” I replied with a smile. I looked down at her chart to view her recent course of treatment. After her diagnosis, her oncologist began a series of chemotherapy treatments right away, which worked for a while, but now she was no longer responding to treatment. “Come ti senti?” I asked, wondering how she was feeling.

She gave me a weak smile, but her pale blue eyes looked even paler than the day before. My heart sank, but I maintained my professional demeanor in front of her and returned the smile. “Bene, grazie,” she replied. Even though she was probably feeling terrible, she still told me that she was fine. Over the past months that I’d known her, she had never once complained.

I reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze as I looked into her eyes. “Posso offrirti qualcosa?” I asked if I could get her anything.

“No, grazie,” she smiled, then added, “Please … visit … soon?”

I smiled and nodded. “Sì, presto. Molto presto.” I told her that I would visit her very soon. She nodded with a smile, as she leaned back onto her pillows.

I gave her air kisses over both cheeks, as they do in Italy, and helped her with the pillows. “Addio, Christina. Arrivederci.”

A moment later, Kellen, a nurse that had just started working at the hospital a few days before, walked into the room, carrying a tray with her medicine, then set it down on the counter next to her wig. “Hello, Christina,” he said as a broad smile spread across his face. “My name is Kellen and I’m your new nurse. How are you?”

She shook her head, but returned the smile as her eyebrows raised.

“Kellen, she only speaks Italian. She came from Italy two months ago,” I replied.

“Oh, really?” he asked then turned back to her. “Ciao, Christina. Il mio nome è Kellen e io sono la tua nuova infermiera. Come stai?”

Her face lit up and her smile touched her eyes. “Meglio ora,” she replied. She said that she was better … now.

Christina’s interest suddenly piqued. Kellen was young—appearing to be only a few years older than her—had dark blonde, wavy hair, and was heavily muscled with a wonderful smile. It was good to see that she was still a normal, hormonal teenager, despite what she was going through.

I laughed as I watched their exchange. Yes, Christina was much better now that Kellen was here. A good-looking young man was just the right medicine for a teenage girl. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” I said to Kellen as I waved goodbye to Christina. “Later, you’ll have to tell me how it is that you know Italian,” I said in a low voice to Kellen as I left, but he just smiled, brushing it off as he turned his attention back to Christina.

I walked down the hallway, smiling as I thought of Christina. It was good to see that she was a normal eighteen-year-old girl filled with hormones, but my smile quickly faded, wishing that I could do more for her. That was one of the drawbacks of being a doctor. We do what we can, but sometimes our hands are tied and our resources inadequate, despite our efforts.

The elevator door opened and I stepped out onto the first floor of the Emergency Room once again. Filled with thoughts of Christina, I took another patient chart and gave it my attention. When I looked up, Mr. Steel was leaning against the wall in all his perfection, still talking to Drake, and my heart fluttered. I quickly pushed the thought aside, trying to ignore him as I turned my attention back to the chart. I looked up and his eyes locked with mine. Shit, I thought to myself, suddenly glad that I had a good poker face.

Steel watched me for a bit, then pushed off the wall and turned his attention back to Drake. “It’s indeed my pleasure, Mr. Summerfield,” he said in a fluid British accent. “If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. And thank you for the …”

“Shush,” Drake said, cutting him off. He placed a hand to his lips and looked both ways. “Please, don’t mention it.”

A smirk played at the corner of Mr. Steel’s lips. “As you wish,” he said, and then turned his attention back to me.

Drake followed his gaze and eyed me looking inconspicuously at the chart in my hand. “Yes, this is Dr. Leila Reynolds,” he said, motioning me toward them.

Mr. Steel must have been a major benefactor. I rolled my eyes, having never seen Dr. Summerfield suck up to someone this much. I smirked to myself.

“I have a patient …” I replied, turning my attention back to the chart in my hand.

“This will only take a moment.”