MATT

I’ve been accused of being set in my ways by a few people in my life, and they’re right. I rely on routine. I eat the same breakfast every morning: protein smoothie, four egg whites scrambled with freshly cracked pepper, turkey sausage, and two cups of coffee (one right when I wake up and one when I arrive at work). After breakfast, I work out. That routine stays the same every day too. Cardio. Weights—not so much that I’m an over-engorged beast, but enough that I can stand over an operating table for nine hours and torque a spine without breaking a sweat. Core work is vital.

I wake up at 4:00 AM Monday through Friday, and I’m in my office by 5:30. If there’s a resident or a fellow on my team, I prefer for them to meet me at this time so we can go over the case schedule before we start rounding. During rounds, I check that post-op patients are recovering and go over any final questions with my pre-op patients and their guardians. I’ve learned to pad this time. Parents are always nervous, and children always come up with the most random, curious questions. Often, it’s about the anesthesia.

“You mean I won’t remember anything? It’ll feel like I’m sleeping? Will I dream?”

Today, I’m in the office at 5:00 AM, even earlier than usual. I have a routine procedure scheduled in a few hours, but I wanted to spend some time looking over Fiona’s file. Her parents aren’t sure they want to go through with the surgery. They’re confused why so many doctors turned her away and yet I’m willing to try. They don’t want to put their daughter in danger, which is understandable, but still, my gut tells me they’ll be back. Her case is severe and they’re going to be completely out of options soon. When that time comes, I want to be ready.

Unfortunately, when I arrive at my desk, I discover I won’t have the thirty minutes of uninterrupted time I was craving. My voicemail announces thirteen unheard messages, and there are a few dozen emails demanding responses. Two doctors are requesting a surgical visit in the upcoming week. Another one is asking for my assistance on a case on the west coast. It’s not unusual as there are so few of us who specialize in complex pediatric scoliosis.

Before I reply to the emails, the blinking red light from my office phone demands my attention. I press play and listen while I tidy up my desk. Three of the messages are from Victoria, telling me “it’s nothing urgent” but asking me to call her back as soon as possible. I wonder why she didn’t just call my cell phone, and then I remember I forgot to give her my new number. It wasn’t intentional, but now I wonder if it’s not better this way.

I have no idea what she’d want to talk to me about, but since it’s not urgent, I skip past her message and make a mental note to get back to her when I have the time.

“Knock knock!” Dr. Lopez says from the hallway as he opens the door and waltzes into my office without a care in the world. “Do you have a second?”

I don’t look up. “No.”

Undeterred, he walks in to take a seat across from me. I think he’s half-tempted to prop his feet up and interlace his fingers behind his head, but he knows that’d be pushing it too far.

“I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s homey in here.”

He’s staring pointedly at my framed diplomas stacked against the wall behind my desk, still waiting to be hung. Beside them, there’s a mountain of issues of European Spine Journal and old textbooks. Spinal hardware litters most of my couch. Admittedly, it’s a mess. It’s why I meet my patients in the conference room for consultations.

“It’s like stepping into the laboratory of a mad scientist,” he notes with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find the secrets of the universe in here.”

He’s wasting my precious time. “What can I do for you, Dr. Lopez?”

“Oh right—busy busy. We doctors never have enough time, do we? Well, I’m about to get a lot more of it actually. You’ve heard I’m retiring, haven’t you?” A rumor has been circulating for months, but I never thought he’d actually go through with it so soon. He has another five years of surgery left in him, ten if he pushed himself. “Yup. Laurie’s pretty excited. She has all sorts of plans for us for the coming months—a Caribbean cruise, holidays with the grandkids. Your parents live here, right?”

I nod as I start sorting through my emails, triaging the most important ones and deleting the ones from medical device reps I don’t care to entertain.

“Lucky for them. They’ll be close by when you have kids. All the better to spoil them rotten.”

Kids. My gut clenches. Right. I tense and finally glance up at him.

“Congratulations on your retirement,” I say, my voice professional and unfriendly. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

He grins and threads his fingers together on his lap. He looks mighty comfortable in my office, like he plans on staying here for quite some time.

“Sort of. You’ve probably heard me mention my surgical assistant a time or two?”

I rack my brain but nothing comes to mind. “If you have, I wasn’t listening.”

He laughs. “Never one to bullshit are you, Dr. Russell? Anyway, Bailey is great, one of the best damn surgical assistants I’ve ever had, but unfortunately, I’m going to leave her high and dry in a few weeks when I retire.”

“Why is that my problem?”

He shakes his head, and then wags a Let me teach you something finger at me. “Bailey isn’t your problem, but she could be your salvation. Kirt put in his two weeks’ notice—”

“Kirt was never going to last. He doesn’t have the stomach for surgery.”

Literally.

“Bailey does.”

I arch a brow and give him my best bored expression. “Just say what you’re hinting at or get out of my office. I have shit to do before my resident arrives.”

He stands and leans over, pressing the button on my office phone that connects me to my secretary.

“Patricia, are you at your desk yet?”

A second later, her words bite through the line. “What do you want? It’s too damn early. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

“I understand and I apologize for the inconvenience,” Dr. Lopez says, his voice full of deference for the woman who actually wears the pants in this place. “But would you mind checking real quick to see how many surgical assistants have applied to replace Kirt?”

I get his point even before there’s a long silence, followed by a chuckle from Patricia. “No one yet, but I only put the ad out a couple of days ago.”

Dr. Lopez is wearing a shit-eating grin. “That’s what I thought. Thank you, Patricia. Now you can go enjoy that cup of coffee and I won’t bother you again.”

His finger lifts up off the intercom button and silence fills my office. We stare at each other across my desk. He couldn’t be making his point any clearer if he was waving his hands wildly overhead, pointing to a marquee that spelled out, Matt, you insufferable asshole, no one wants to work with you!

I look away first and clear my throat. “I get it. You can get out of my office now.”

He fails to hide a big victorious smile before he turns for the door and I think he’s finally going to leave me in peace, but then he throws out one last piece of advice over his shoulder. “I know you like to operate as a lone wolf, but the best surgeons know how to be team players. You’d be an idiot to let Bailey slip through your fingers. She’s been my right hand for the last four years, and if circumstances in her life had been different, she would have made a damn good surgeon herself. Take my advice and hire her before it’s too late.”