Joss
I was finishing up an email to the kitchen, confirming the snack trays I’d requested for tomorrow’s interviews, when Hattie approached, giving me a look of concern.
“Hey,” she said softly. “I need to talk to you.”
“What’s up?”
“Can we go into the break room?”
“Sure,” I said, getting up from my chair.
I tried to read her expression before she turned toward the small room that served as our break room. It contained a motley assortment of chairs and tables and an ancient refrigerator. It was ugly, but we all cherished it.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Like me, Hattie worked a lot. She’d lost a few pounds recently, and I was worried about her but hadn’t wanted to say anything.
She closed the door behind us, scooting me away from the window.
“You know I love you,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide with worry.
“Of course, and I love you, too. What’s going on?”
She shook her head slightly. “There’s some news that just started running through this place like wildfire, and I want you to hear it from me and not in front of a bunch of other people.”
I laughed sarcastically. “Girl, you know I can take anything. It can’t be worse than Dean fucking Amanda while I was in the same building.”
“She’s pregnant,” Hattie said. “They’re getting married next month.”
I just looked at her for a couple of seconds.
“Really?” I finally said, giving her a skeptical look. “Are you sure it’s not just a rumor?”
“They announced it to the ER staff right after you were down there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry I missed it.”
“Seriously, Joss, are you okay?”
“I’m . . . surprised, I guess. We dated for three years before we got married. And he said he didn’t want kids till he was in his midthirties.”
“Maybe it was an ‘accident,’” Hattie said, emphasizing the word with air quotes. “Maybe Amanda planned it so he’d be stuck with her.”
I crossed my arms over my chest protectively. “Yeah, maybe. It does feel strange; I won’t deny that. Not because I want to be in her shoes. I don’t at all. I just . . .”
Hattie pulled me close for a hug. “I know, sweetie. You don’t have to explain it to me.”
I sighed deeply and hugged her back. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Let’s go out as soon as we both have a night off,” she said. “We both need to blow off some steam. And maybe blow something else, too.”
I laughed and pulled away to look at her mischievous expression. “That sounds great. The night out, I mean.”
“Joss.” Hattie rolled her eyes and glared at me. “You need to get laid, girl.” Her eyes brightened, and she grabbed my hand, leading me out of the break room. “C’mon. Let’s see what Magic Eight thinks.”
I groaned my disapproval but couldn’t help smiling. Hattie and I had bonded immediately when I started working here. She was two years older than me, but we were kindred spirits in every way, and she’d become my closest friend. We had a tradition of answering life’s questions, both big and small, with the Magic 8-Ball she kept stashed in a cabinet at the main OB workstation.
Hattie went straight for the cabinet and pulled out the worn black orb. Only Shayna, a nurse we both liked, was sitting at the workstation.
“Magic Eight,” Hattie said, shaking the ball, “does Joss need to get laid?”
Shayna covered her mouth with her hand to suppress her laugh. There were no secrets around here—everyone knew I’d been celibate since Dean.
A triumphant smile lit up Hattie’s face, and she turned the ball toward me.
“As I see it, yes,” I read out loud.
Hattie arched her brows and smiled. “See? We’re going out this weekend.”
“I work all weekend.”
“Hmm. Next weekend, then.”
I sighed. “Working then, too.”
“Dammit, Joss,” Hattie said. “Why do you volunteer for every weekend?”
“Every day is the same to me,” I said, shrugging. “Why not work so people with families can be home?”
“We’ll go out on a weeknight, then,” she said. “This city is alive all the time, anyway.”
“I really appreciate the thought, but I’m not up for a one-night stand. That’s just not me.”
“Come on, Joss. I’m not saying unprotected sex with an ex-con or anything. Just—”
I cut her off and looked at Shayna. “I’m not a one-night stand girl, right? Tell her.”
Shayna, a mom of five in her forties, gave me a sly smile. “I don’t know, Joss. Maybe with the right man. Just a night of fun. Why not?”
Hattie gave me a shit-eating grin and shook the ball. “Magic Eight,” she said in a tone so low only I could hear it, “if Joss goes out with me, will she meet a hot man with a huge cock who will give her multiple orgasms?”
She read the answer and grinned even wider. “Most likely!”
“You kill me,” I said, shoving her shoulder playfully.
“Magic Eight,” she said again, “will Nips and Dr. Dickhead have an ugly baby?”
I burst out laughing, this time at her outrageousness. She shook and groaned when the answer showed up. I looked at the display.
“Don’t count on it,” I read, before giving Hattie an admonishing look. “I want them to have a healthy, beautiful baby. Truly. I’m not the kind of person to want anything else.”
“You’re a better woman than me,” she said, shaking the ball yet again. “Magic Eight, will Nips gain lots of weight during this pregnancy?”
I laughed again, heading back toward my research room.
“You may rely on it!” Hattie called after me.
I went into the stuffy room to take inventory of what I needed to prepare for tomorrow. While reaching for a clipboard, I caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror and then turned back for a longer look.
When Dean and I met in our college premed program, I’d been a vibrant, happy twenty-year-old. The vibrancy had been diluted by years of med school and residency and the departure of the man I thought I’d be with forever. And the happiness? It was still there, but it was different now. My happiness was something I kept inside, and it came entirely from my work and friends.
I was supposed to be in my prime, but I wore my hair back in the same predictable ponytail whether I was working or not. “Dressed up” meant jeans instead of scrubs. Makeup? A distant memory.
I’d gained ten or fifteen pounds since college, and as I stared at the tired-looking blonde in the mirror, I realized I was the textbook definition of letting yourself go. I sucked in my stomach and pushed up my cleavage, narrowing my eyes to blur the image a little. Could I still pass for a decent-looking woman?
I got my answer when I let go of my boobs and they fell back into place. Their perkiness was hanging out in the location of my former waistline.
The sound of someone clearing his throat made me turn around. Oh God. The hot maintenance guy had seen me feeling myself up. My cheeks burned as he raised a hand in greeting, avoiding my eyes.
“I’m gonna get started,” he said in a gruff tone.
“Uh . . . I was just trying to take an honest look at myself,” I said, running my ponytail through my fingers. It was my nervous habit, but right now I was wishing I had developed something more compelling. “You know, like, see what others see?”
Carson took a drill out of a worn canvas workbag and searched through a box of silver drill bits. This was awkward. Not talking about me touching my own boobs was worse than talking about it. I wanted to explain myself.
Crossing the room, I sat down in a metal chair near the spot where he was kneeling on the floor. He didn’t even look up.
“Am I so bad?” I asked, the question as much for myself as for him. “Is no makeup and ten pounds and a permanent ponytail really such a deal-breaker?”
His gaze flicked over mine before he gave me a glance that had “uncomfortable” written all over it.
“Uh . . . I’m gonna need to move that chair so I can access the duct,” he said.
I sprang up, my humiliation complete. He wanted me to leave so he could work. And he probably thought I was more than a little crazy.
“Sure. I’m gonna go . . . do some stuff,” I said, pointing toward the door. “You know, work stuff.”
I wasn’t going to do anything. The only thing I needed to do was set up this room, and I didn’t want to bother him by doing it while he was trying to work. Not to mention that I just couldn’t take any more of his impassive attitude.
heading back to the break room, I decided to kill time surfing the internet on my phone. It was going to be a long night of waiting.