Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton
Four
Nick
Dr. Schwartz toldme that the hospital PR team will handle an official statement to the press and that I’m to say nothing if I’m asked about it. Not to the press and not to my colleagues. Regardless, I head down to Ollie’s office to fill him in. He’s the most trustworthy guy I know, so I don’t have to worry about him opening his mouth to anyone, except maybe his fiancée, Jemma.
I can’t lose this job. I love emergency medicine and I’m fond of my life here in this small city. If I have to go back to Boston, back to my family and that lifestyle, to find another job—Christ, there’s nothing worse than that. I left the city to leave all that behind and I have no desire to return. Not to mention how smug my brother would be if he knew I was fired. There’s not a chance in hell I’d give him that satisfaction.
Rather than wait for the elevator, I put my nervous energy to use and take the stairs the few flights down to my buddy’s office. When I arrive in the reception area, his secretary, Rowan, is behind the desk, hard at work.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She looks up from whatever she’s working on and smiles. “There’s the future father of my babies.” She stands and rounds her desk to come give me a hug.
I chuckle. “I think you and your husband already have enough.”
She chucks me on the chin. “Sure, but once I leave him for you, we’re going to want to start our own family, of course.” She winks.
Rowan is happily married and at least a decade older than my thirty-six. Not that I see anything wrong with an older woman. But this is what we do. Flirt shamelessly with each other because it’s fun and because it drives Ollie nuts.
“Leave Rowan alone. I don’t need a sexual harassment lawsuit,” Ollie calls from his office.
His words sober me, and I step back and glance at his open office door. “Bossman have a few minutes for me?” I ask Rowan.
She nods. “His next patient isn’t due to arrive for another ten minutes.”
“Perfect. Just kick me out if I overstay my welcome.” I wink and head into Ollie’s office. I shut the door behind me.
“Uh oh. This must be serious if you’re shutting the door. What happened? Some one-night stand give you a venereal disease? Do you need me to write you a script?”
I roll my eyes and sit in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. “I just got called up to Dr. Scwartz’s office.”
Ollie removes his glasses and sets them on the desk. “Why’d he want to see you?”
I sigh and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and pushing my hands through my hair before I look back up at him. “Apparently footage of me making out with a nurse in the break room somehow made it to the newspaper and they’re spinning it to make it look like I spend all my time screwing the staff rather than tending to patients.”
“C’mon, man, you know better than to—”
I raise my hand to stop him. “I do. And I don’t fuck around when I’m working. This one nurse has been pretty brazen, and she basically jumped me in the break room.”
Ollie leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “And?”
“And I went with it for a minute. I mean, if you’re surprised by a set of double D’s being pressed into you and a tongue in your mouth, the first instinct isn’t to push them away.”
He gives me an unimpressed look. He’s always had more willpower than me.
“Well, it’s not my first instinct. Anyway, the tape doesn’t show the part where she surprised me or when I pushed her away. The hospital board isn’t happy about the bad press, especially after that thing a few months ago with that nurse dipping into patients’ records when she shouldn’t have been.”
“I can imagine. What did Schwartz say?”
“He said I need to clean up my act. Get myself some good press to turn this thing around. Even if I did come forward with the truth, the optics aren’t good if I throw the nurse under the bus.”
Ollie lets out a long whistle. “That’s a big ask.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He tilts his head and looks a bit incredulous. “You’re not exactly living a pious life.”
“No, I’m not. But I’m a single, successful man. Why should I be?”
“Agreed. But what is celibacy going to do to you? Will you be able to handle it?”
I raise my hands. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down there. No one said anything about celibacy.”
“How else do you think you’re going to clean up your image? You can’t do that by sleeping with a different woman every week.”
I push a hand through my hair. Shit, he’s right.
“It’s celibacy… or monogamy,” he says.
A full-body shiver racks my body. I’d rather work the ER shift on Halloween night with a full moon and deal with all that crazy than participate in either of those.
“Damn it.” My phone rings in the pocket of my lab coat, so I dip my hand in to retrieve it in case someone from the ER department is calling, rather than paging, me. I don’t recognize the number, so I swipe to accept the call. “Hello.”
“Hi, is this Dr. Nick Ryan?”
“It is.” A crease mars my forehead.
“This is Stacey from the Boston Herald. I wanted to see if you had any comment about your behavior on the tape—”
“No comment. Don’t call this number again.” I hang up and look at my friend. “That was the Herald looking for a comment.”
“Shit. Obviously, they’ve picked up the story from the local paper. I’m sorry, man.”
I shake my head. Un-fucking-believable. I suppose I can expect a call from my mother— or worse, my father—any time now. Once the story makes the rounds through their social circle, they’re going to be all over me. It’ll be like when I was a teenager all over again. As long as Keith doesn’t call me, I can handle it. I have nothing to say to my asshole brother.
“Jesus. This is gonna be a mess. If I get fired—”
“You won’t.”
“I might. The hospital would rather pay me to go away quietly and bury the story than deal with any more bad press. If I seem like a liability, they won’t hesitate to kick my ass to the curb. Trust me. I’ve seen it before.”
I grew up in Boston high society, so I’m well aware how important optics are to some. My family has more money than they know what to do with, but I’ve seen time and time again how easily money can corrupt someone. Which is why I left it all behind.
My phone rings in my pocket again and I yank it out, sliding my thumb over the screen and bringing it to my ear. “I told you no comment!”
No one says anything at first, then some shuffling before a voice I wish I could forget but has haunted me for years says, “It’s me.”
It takes me a minute to regain my balance. Ollie’s studying me as if I’m one of his patients.
“Don’t call here again.” I hang up the phone and put it on silent before standing and shoving it back in my pocket.
“Another reporter?” Ollie asks.
“Yeah,” I lie, heading toward the door. “I need to get back to the ER. Let’s grab a beer this weekend. I’m not on shift.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he calls.
I wave with my free hand as I open the door, but I don’t turn around to face him. He knows me too well and I’m afraid he’ll see something on my face that will tip him off that the last phone call has shook me.
“See you, Rowan.”
She’s on the phone and gives me a wave. I quickly leave the office, heading directly for the stairwell. Once I’m alone inside it, I lean up against the wall, my head resting against the cool concrete.
Why the hell is Mazzy Pembrooke calling me? I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw her that I never wanted to speak with her again.