BAILEY

Normally, I’d feel a little sad to see the holidays go, but this year is different. I’m ready to start working again. I’m anxious to get back into the OR with Matt. His schedule will be jam-packed because of the cases we had to delay for June’s surgery, but I’ve already told him I’m willing to work as much as he needs me to. We’ll tackle it together.

Even though I’m ready to get back to the hospital, I can’t believe how fast the holiday break flew by. Matt and I spent nearly every moment of it together. We were with his family on Christmas Day. After dominating a round of charades, his aunts and uncles enthusiastically embraced Josie and me as if we were one of them. His mom made me sit right by her during dinner, and she even stealthily showed me embarrassing photos of Matt and Cooper when they were babies. That night, Matt and I happily crammed ourselves onto my twin bed.

In the days that followed, we (I) baked cookies and ate them straight out of the oven. We spoiled Josie and took her to spend most of her Barnes & Noble gift card. She has enough books to last her a lifetime, though I fear she’ll finish them all within a week.

Things are moving fast between Matt and me. This isn’t just a casual fling and though I’m ready to go all in, I worry it might be too much for Matt because I start to notice a subtle shift in his demeanor the weekend before we’re due back at the hospital. It starts when we’re driving home from dinner on Friday and I ask him something, nothing important, really, but he doesn’t reply. I glance over to see he wasn’t even listening. When we get home, I work up the courage to ask him if everything is okay, and he brushes off my concern as if it’s nothing and tugs me in for a kiss, worries be damned.

Saturday, we take Josie to go see a movie and he doesn’t watch a single minute of it. Sure, he’s sitting there, looking up at the screen, but his mind is somewhere else. I know because we talk about it on the way home and Matt can’t even name the main character. Josie teases him about it, but I keep quiet, wondering if I’ve done something to give him second thoughts about us.

At dinner, I catch him checking his email incessantly and then that night, I wake up to see him sitting on the edge of my bed, his head in hands.

At first, I think he’s sick.

It’s 2:30 AM. Why is he awake?

“Matt? Are you okay?”

He jerks up straight and glances at me over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

He reaches back and finds the hand I extend out for him. Something doesn’t feel right. I’ve never suspected him of lying to me, but I swear he’s not being honest now.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to get you some water or something?”

“No, I don’t need anything.” He shifts and crawls back under the blankets to get to me.

I’m greedy for his warmth and I tuck myself right beside him. It’s my favorite spot.

“It seems like you’ve had a lot on your mind the last few days,” I venture, brushing my finger back and forth against his chest.

He sighs. “I’m supposed to hear back about that grant any day now. That’s what’s been on my mind.”

Of course! I should have realized. I heard him talking about it with his parents on Christmas Day, but I was too far away to catch much of the conversation.

Relief rushes through me. I was really worried he was having reservations about us.

“That’s exciting, Matt. Will you tell me about it?”

His arm wraps around me and he draws me even closer. “Sure. In the morning. We should get to sleep.”

That conversation never happens though. The next day Matt has to head up to the hospital early, and by the time he gets back to my house, I’ve finished making lasagna and Josie ushers him straight to the table she’s set. Then, she proceeds to dominate most of the dinner conversation, and I don’t mind because I’m busy watching them. They have an easygoing relationship. He seems so relaxed around her, as if he can’t help but smile at her ridiculous take on life. After we finish eating, Matt offers to do the dishes—and by offers, I mean he forcibly removes me from the kitchen.

One day rolls into the next and the grant is the last thing on my mind.

We settle into a happy pattern, one I could easily get used to. Matt and I operate together three days a week and he stays over at my house most nights. We share my tiny twin bed and his cuddle habits grow more out of control. Soon, I’ll have to build a pillow fort between us just to get some sleep. I secretly love it.

I cook him and Josie dinner most nights, or when we have a late surgery, we opt for takeout. Matt insists on paying for groceries since he’s the one eating most of the food. Tuna is a thing of the past, and I couldn’t be more grateful. We watch movies with Josie on the weekends and sneak out for a date night here and there, usually just hightailing it over to his house so we can have sex without fear that Josie will walk in on us. Also, I take full advantage of his washer and dryer. While our clothes tumble dry, we tumble right back into bed.

It’s the best month I can remember, weeks so jam-packed with happiness I completely forget about the grant until I arrive at work one Monday and find half the hospital standing outside Matt’s office, clambering to get inside.

There are balloons tied to the door handle and laughter spilling out into the hall. I can’t get within ten feet. I can’t even see inside to try to decipher what could possibly be going on.

At first, I assume this is all excitement about June because she took a few steps on her own in physical therapy the other day, though that doesn’t make sense because this is way too over the top.

Someone nudges their way through the crowd with a cake that says, Congratulations! Another person shouts, “Dr. Russell, you’re the man!”

I spot Erika hovering at the back of the crowd, pressing up on her toes to try to see into his office. I head in her direction and ask what’s going on.

She turns and her eyes widen. Her hands grip my shoulders and she shakes me back and forth. My brain rattles in my head. “Oh my god! I can’t believe he got it!”

“Got what?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“The MacArthur Grant!”

OH MY GOD!

My hand covers my mouth in excitement. I can’t believe it! He’s probably freaking out! Look at all these people here to celebrate with him. I’ve never even heard of the MacArthur Grant but it sounds fancy as hell.

“That’s amazing!”

“I know! Apparently, he was awarded full funding for his spine clinic in Costa Rica! Isn’t that insane?! Wait.” She shakes her head and laughs. “Why am I telling you this?”

Wait. WHAT?!

Spine clinic?

Costa Rica?!

I blink and try to make sense of what she could possibly mean. Costa Rica—is that a fancy suburb of Boston or something? Surely she isn’t referring to the country a million miles away from where I currently stand.

“It’s so crazy! I can’t believe you kept the secret too,” she continues. “None of us even knew he was in the running for it until this morning when we found out he won. I bet he’s been a nervous wreck.”

I laugh half-heartedly. “Oh, yeah. Super nervous.”

Her brows furrow and she tilts her head, studying me. “Did he not tell you he won?”

I shake my head infinitesimally and then admit the sad truth. “No. I mean, we haven’t talked this morning…”

He didn’t tell me he won. He didn’t tell me anything about the grant or the spine clinic or what that could possibly mean for us. I mean, I knew he was waiting to hear back about a grant, but I thought it would just be money that could go toward more pro bono work here, or, I don’t know, more chocolate fountains in the doctors’ lounge. I had no idea he was trying to open a clinic in another country.

I feel like the floor is falling out from underneath me. Am I dreaming? Did I eat too much leftover Christmas candy last night and now this is some weird sugar-induced nightmare? I press a hand against my stomach and try to steady myself, and now Erika is actually concerned by how I’m taking the news. “I’m confused—aren’t you two dating? Everyone just assumed with how you acted at the Christmas party, and you’ve been inseparable around the hospital ever since…”

I give her a sort of half-nod, half-shake of my head. Yes, sure, I thought we were dating. All signs point to the two of us being a couple. I’m wearing diamond studs he gave me. He’s practically living with me. He kissed my cheek in the wee hours of the morning before he left for work today. Until this moment, I thought we had a future, but this is throwing me for a loop, and why the heck are there so many people out here right now? I couldn’t get into his office if I tried. It’d be like attempting to push my way to the front row at Coachella. No thank you. It’s a little too early in the morning to get elbowed in the head.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Erika says, dropping a hand onto my shoulder in solidarity.

Oh Erika, you kind soul. You aren’t to blame in this.

Matt is.

Matt with his stupid secrets and his big plans.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Really. I’m just a little flustered because of this surgery I have in a little bit. Actually, I better get down there.”

It’s such a good excuse she doesn’t even try to stop me. I walk numbly down the hall and away from the chaos. The elevator opens and a deliveryman steps out with an extra-large Edible Arrangements bouquet and an armload of balloons. There are so many, I sort of get tangled up in them as I try to step into the elevator.

“Oh, oops!” The deliveryman laughs. “Here, let me just—”

I flail my arms and kick my legs and let out a guttural groan before I finally break free onto the other side.

“Sorry about that! Death by balloons, ha ha.”

I barely contain my snarl as I repeatedly press the Close Door button in the elevator. The surgical floor is blessedly empty when I arrive. It shouldn’t be a surprise considering every human in the building is up in Matt’s office bowing down and kissing his ass.

I head straight for the surgical board, confirm our assigned room, and get to work.

I keep my head down, stay focused, and let the rhythm of my job take over.

This is what I know.

This is what I love.

It’s simple and methodical and before Matt swelled my heart to ten times its normal size, it was enough to keep me happy.

My coworkers start trickling in as I finish my prep. I nod to each of them and feign a smile as they mention Matt or the grant or all the children in Costa Rica who will be affected by the clinic he’s going to open. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the air. Everyone’s glad to be working with Matt today—everyone except me.

It makes me mad that everyone seems to know more than I do, and even more mad that I shouldn’t be mad. He’s going to help children! He’s going to be a hero! I can’t hate him for that, and yet deep down…I’m angry. Blisteringly so.

I’m scrubbed in and standing at the operating table by the time he walks in.

His gaze is aimed straight at me as he makes a beeline for my side.

The anesthesiologist tries to catch his attention, to congratulate him, and Matt barely throws a glance in his direction.

“Bailey, I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

“Not all morning.”

“What?” he asks, brows furrowed.

I clear my throat, aware that every person in that OR has stopped what they’re doing to listen to us.

“I checked my phone when I was on my way to work and I didn’t have any missed calls,” I clarify, turning to the patient. “Everything is ready to go. Let me grab your gown and I’ll help tie it.”

That’s my way of trying to tell him, Not now. Not in front of everyone. Please don’t tell me you’re moving to Costa Rica now because I will definitely sob and I’d like to maintain some dignity in front of my coworkers, thank you very much.

His eyes lock with mine and they’re imploring me to do…something. What? Do what, Matt?!

I turn to retrieve his gown and as I tie it onto him, we don’t say a word. As we go around the room for the time-out, confirming we’re all ready to get started, I stare up at the gallery, at all the eager faces staring right back down at me. They’re watching, waiting. My fledgling relationship with Matt is probably just as interesting to them as the surgery they came here to watch.

“Bailey, you’re up,” Matt says, his voice distant and cold. It’s the surgeon talking—that’s what I tell myself so I don’t have to feel hurt when I turn and see he’s staring at me like he doesn’t even recognize me.

I’m the same person I was yesterday, Matt.

You’re the one who’s changed.

He finds me after I finish scrubbing out. I’m walking down the hall when he steps out of a post-op recovery room and heads in the opposite direction. His presence might as well take up the whole damn hallway. He’s half a foot taller than everyone he passes. His hair is ten shades darker. He turns heads without even trying.

I don’t consciously decide to walk right by him. I have work I need to catch up on, but he blocks my path and narrows his gaze down at me. He looks like a giant who wants to crush me under his shoe.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?”

I’m sure he’s expecting a fight, but I won’t be immature about this. I nod and offer a tight-lipped smile.

“Of course. Where would you like to speak?”

He grips my elbow and tugs me hard into a nearby on-call room.

Metal bunk beds are stacked against one wall. A wooden desk fills what’s left of the small space. The lights are dim as I turn to face him and decide to speak first.

“Congratulations on the grant, Matt. I’m really happy for you.”

Shockingly, it’s the truth. Separate from being hurt, I am happy for him. I can’t think of another doctor who deserves this as much as he does.

“I was going to tell you about it,” he says quickly, coming toward me. I hold my ground and it only takes him two strides to reach me. His hands wrap around my biceps and he speaks quickly, words rushing out one after the other. “I just didn’t want to make a fuss about it until I knew for sure whether or not the committee would pick me. There was every chance the other surgeon would win.” I nod, trying hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. “And I wasn’t sure how to say, Oh, by the way, I could be moving to Costa Rica soon.”

“So instead you opted to keep me in the dark,” I clarify with a rueful smirk.

He rears back like my words sting him. “No, Bailey. No. I wanted to preserve what we had before complicating it with this.”

I sigh and nod, sad for us both. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just really wish you had told me.”

“I’m sorry, I am. It was selfish of me.”

He’s saying all the right things and I’m somehow not making a complete ass of myself. This should go down as the most mature fight any couple has ever had, but I can’t seem to care. Just because he’s clarifying things for me now doesn’t change the fact that he’s leaving.

“When will you go?” I ask, my voice emotionless.

He frowns. “Summer at the latest.”

Well there’s our timeline: a few months. Maybe we can really make them count. Maybe I can cram in a lifetime’s worth of memories with Matt before he leaves.

“Please don’t be angry, Bailey. This doesn’t have to be sad. In fact, I’ve been thinking…” He bends to my eye level. “You could come with me.”

“Come with you?” I repeat in disbelief.

The suggestion lights a fire under him. He releases me and starts to pace quickly, hand brushing the nape of his neck.

“Yes. Come with me! Honestly, I’ve been considering it for weeks. This clinic is going to be impossible to run without you. I need you by my side.”

I’m shaking my head, trying hard to keep up. When I speak, I sound as if he’s proposing the most ludicrous idea I’ve ever heard. “What are you talking about? My life is here, Matt. My sister is here. I can’t just pick up and leave.”

His brows furrow. “Josie will come too, of course. I want her to! This is perfect. You and I will build the clinic together. You’ll be by my side. There are tutors I can hire for Josie or we could enroll her in an American school there. I’ve already been calling around. This weekend, I emailed a colleague—”

He’s talking a mile a minute, acting as if this is a real possibility. I suddenly feel the urge to throw up.

“STOP!” I’m seething. “Just stop! You’ve been calling around and making plans and yet it didn’t occur to you to include me in these plans? Jesus, do you really think I’d move Josie to another country just like that?” I snap. “We’ve been dating for a few weeks, Matt. Put yourself in my shoes. Think about what you’re asking of me!”

Just then, the door to the on-call room opens and a resident steps in, rubbing her eyes. When she glances up and sees us, she freezes. “Oh, crap. Sorry.” Then she jerks around and scurries out of the room.

I want to follow her, but instead, I take a steadying breath and choose my next words very carefully. It’s easier to think when I keep my attention on the door and away from him.

“I’m very, very happy that you won the grant. No one deserves it more than you. I wish you had told me about it, but I understand why you didn’t. Things are new between us and you didn’t want to rock the boat. I get that. I forgive you for that. I just…need a little while to wrap my head around this. That’s all.”

He nods and tugs me toward him by the front of my scrub top so he can wrap his arms around me. We hug, and at first, it’s the last thing I want. It feels awkward and tense. I don’t give in. I keep my arms hanging limp at my sides in silent protest. My gaze is focused on the wall behind his head. A part of me wants to step away and deny him this hug, but then his arms tighten around me and I let my forehead fall against his chest, against my better judgment. My breathing slows and my anger is fleeting, replaced by an overwhelming urge to accept this small comfort.

He dips down so his head rests against my shoulder, and my heart breaks a little at the idea that this could be one of the last times we’re this close to one another. By the time the snow melts and the flowers bloom again, he’ll be gone.

“This doesn’t have to be the end,” he says, hopeful. “This grant could be the start of something for both of us. Please think about it.”