Chapter Four

Owen

“HEY, MAN.”

“Hey.” Owen gave a chin lift to his friend and colleague, Paul Raine.

“Listen, can you tell Nadia I can fit her in Friday? Carol told me she called and tried to get through but had to leave a voicemail.”

“What?”

“Friday. For the consult.” Owen frowned, but his friend kept talking. “Like I said, Carol told her it would be two weeks out, but I can see her Friday. What good is it to be friends with a doctor if they can’ get you in earlier, right?” Paul patted Owen’s back, and everything inside him stilled.

“Consultation?” His frown transformed into a scowl. Paul was also a plastic surgeon. What the hell did Nadia need a consultation for?

“For the mommy makeover,” Paul enlightened him, and he felt his jaw tighten. “You know … right?” Paul turned to him, and Owen plastered on a fake smile and shrugged.

“Yeah, of course I do. Mommy makeover,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Sorry, too much in my head,” he lied. He felt like he was opening his eyes to the reality of his life. His marriage was falling apart.

Or did it already crumble?

“You okay?” Paul asked. He met his friend’s dark stare.

“Yeah. Just…” How did he explain it to his friend if he didn’t even know what the hell was going on in his life? “You know… life shit.”

“The girls okay?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, thinking about how enthusiastic Viv had been after practice. “They are all about ballet and gymnastics and toys with the weirdest fucking names I’ve ever heard.” He grinned. Paul chuckled.

“Man, you are telling me. My niece likes these things called shop-somethings.”

“Shopkins”

“Yeah, my sister had to look every-freaking-where for them.” His smile faded as he pulled his scrub top on over his head. “You and Nadia okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied.

“You sure?” Paul stared at him, and for a moment, Owen felt like he was missing something.

“Why? Carol tell you something else about my wife I didn’t know?” he bit out and put his hands on the top of his head. Paul just stared at him.

“Maybe she wanted to surprise you?” Paul offered. “Women do that kind of thing all the time.”

“Why would she fucking think about seeing you without talking to me?”

“Owen.—”

“Why do you even fucking care?” he snapped. One look at his buddy’s face, and he immediately regretted his words. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Owen. I get it,” Paul spoke, and Owen wanted to laugh. He was glad someone understood what was going on, because he sure as hell didn’t. “Look. I don’t listen to gossip around here. But I do know you’ve been getting here earlier and earlier and leaving later and later.” Owen stood straighter, bracing for whatever his friend was going to say. A sick feeling settled in his gut. His words were too much like what Nadia was always on him about.

“Yeah, to work.”

“Look, brother, all I’m saying is, maybe you kick it back a little. Take it down a notch. The more you’re here, the less you’re home with your family. Shit, last weekend, you came in to check on a patient. You said you were going to be here for ten minutes and left after me,” Paul pointed out.

“So?”

“So, I left after nine at night.”

Fuck. He had done that. By doing that, he’d missed going with Nadia and the girls to dinner and the movies. But Nadia hadn’t said anything. Why?

“And while you’re here, your sexy-ass assistant is here as well.” Paul threw a curve ball Owen hadn’t been expecting.

“What?” He frowned, looking at Paul, who was now tying his shoes.

“Be careful with that one,” he warned. Owen shook his head.

“She’s harmless.” Owen shrugged it off. Monique was his assistant, and that was it.

“Like I’m saying, man, be careful. You and Nadia have been tight since, what, like kindergarten?” Paul teased.

“Freshman year in college.” He rolled his eyes. He’d met Paul in medical school, and he’d always given Owen a hard time about the fact he’d tied himself to Nadia from the very beginning.

“All I’m saying is, you’ve been outta the dating scene for a while. You don’t see it, but Monique’s trouble.”

“She’s young.” He rolled his eyes, though his stomach twisted. Hadn’t Nadia said something like that when she had first met Monique?

“Hell yeah, she is. Young and pretty, and she knows it. Like I said, trouble with a capital T, O.”

“She does great work.”

“I bet.” Paul laughed while he shook his head.

“You know I wouldn’t do that. I’d never touch any other woman who wasn’t Nadia, Paul.”

“I know that. You know that. But does Monique?” Paul asked.

“Of course, she…”

“She’s been calling you in a lot. Working late with you.”

“It’s part of our job. Carol does the same with you.”

“Not as often as Monique does,” Paul pointed out. Owen’s eyes twitched, but when Paul sighed, he looked up at him. “Look, man, people talk. But people usually start to talk because they hear things.”

“What is it you’re beating around the bush about here?”

“I heard her telling one of the medical assistants she thought it was only a matter of time before you were finally going to leave Nadia.”

“What the—”

“And that you would be trading Nadia in for a younger model.”

“What? That is not—”

“She insinuated something was happening between the two of you. Luckily, she was talking to Jean, and you know her. She doesn’t put up with gossip.”

Jean was a good medical assistant, and he knew if Paul said she put Monique in her place, she really had.

“But the thing is, if she’s ballsy enough to tell someone like Jean, who do you think she’s already told?” Fuck.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“I recommend you take it to HR, too. Just in case.”

“Got it.”

“You need me to tell HR what I heard her saying, you know I’m here,” Paul offered.

“Right.” He rubbed his forehead. Placing his hands on his knees, he sat looking at the lockers in front of him.

“You need to talk, I’m here.” Paul patted his shoulder but didn’t leave.

“She’s talking about going to the house in Santa Barbara,” he confessed and didn’t miss the confusion written all over Paul’s face.

“Who?”

“Nadia. She’s taking the girls the day they end the school year.”

“Why?”

“I had to cancel a fucking date,” he muttered, not quite believing it.

“One? She’s leaving over one cancelled date? That doesn’t sound like…” Paul started to say, while Owen started to count how many of their date nights he’d had to cancel. Three dates? No, four. Shit. How many times had he broken off their date nights?

“It’s more than one,“ he admitted. “It’s more than just about a fucking date,” he kept sharing. Paul quietly sat next to him on the bench seat. “I didn’t even realize shit wasn’t right between us until last night,” he confessed out loud for the first time; the truth of it settled and took residence in his chest. How long had his marriage been in trouble? Why hadn’t she said anything before? Or had she and he had been too busy and too stubborn to see it?

“She loves you, Owen. Anyone around the two of you with one eye can see she adores your ugly mug,” Paul tried to fruitlessly pep talk him, but Owen couldn’t get himself to believe it. Did she still love him? “Straighten things out, man.” If only it were that easy.

“She wanted a consultation for a mommy makeover? Carol told you that?” Owen turned and asked his friend. The fact that he had no idea his wife wanted to go under the knife gutted him. What was she thinking if she felt the need for a change, like cosmetic surgery and leaving his ass for the summer?

“Yeah.”

“Why? She’s fine the way she is.” Owen asked, but he didn’t miss the way Paul shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. Owen frowned. “What are you not telling me?”

“You know women in this state, man. They all want to stay lookin’ like they’re twenty-one.”

“Nadia looks fucking better than she did at twenty-one,” he stated honestly. The way her breasts had grown fuller, the slope of her hips wider, fitting even better under his own two hands.

“Look, I’m gonna tell you this because we’ve been friends forever, even if you can be a little oblivious.”

“What?” He frowned. He could feel deep lines at his forehead.

“Sometimes women hear shit from people they care about, and it gives them ideas.”

“Like who? Have you heard anyone—”

“You, man,” Paul pointed out bluntly, and Owen stilled.

“I’ve never—”

“Two weeks ago, at that BBQ we went to—”

“At Ritter’s place?”

“Yeah. You said stuff here and there. I don’t even think you notice.” Owen tried to remember, but he couldn’t place what Paul was talking about.

“Like what?” he asked, sounding more defensive than he actually felt. Paul opened his mouth but got paged before he could respond.

“Gotta go. Look, just talk to her, man. Either way, I’ll keep Friday open for her,” Paul said as he hurried out of the changing room, leaving Owen alone with his thoughts.

Had he given Nadia the idea that something was wrong with her body? Did she think something was going on with him and Monique? How the hell had Monique ever got the idea that he was anything other than her boss?

But mostly, how the hell had his life got so out of control in less than twenty-four hours?

***

“What?” Monique’s fake blue eyes opened wide. He stared at her wondering what the point of colored contacts was. But who was he to say anything? He gave women a pair of fake breasts on an almost daily basis.

“My schedule needs to be...” he was starting to repeat himself, but she shook her head.

“I get that, but, like, why?” The shock in Monique’s voice was obvious. He started to realize Paul’s warning might not have been in vain.

“That isn’t your concern,” he told her gently, and she scowled.

“Owen!” she whined. He took a step back, watching her. “Why!?” she pressed. Leaning forward on her desk, she gave him a view of her cleavage, and his eyes met her face. Has she always done that? he wondered to himself. Her face was now flushed red, an angry stare looking back at him.

“Why does it matter?” he asked and regretted it the second he said it.

“Where are you going?” she pouted. He started to get annoyed.

“That is none of your business,” he told her, tired of her questions. What had he possibly done to give her any idea that there could ever be anything—

“None of my business? Are you serious right now?” she exclaimed, her face getting brighter by the second.

“Monique, you are my assistant.”

“I take care of you!” she shouted louder. He took another step back, thinking that Paul had probably been right about having HR present when he chatted with his assistant.

“You’re my assistant,” he repeated. The obvious pain that flushed over Monique’s face made him feel ill. He had never flirted with her. Never hinted at anything other than a work-place relationship. Had he?

“I’m your assistant? That’s it?” she whispered; her nose flared.

“Yeah. Look, we’re friends—”

“Friends?!” she shrieked. He could feel the stares of a couple of medical assistants who stood on the other end of the office boring holes into the back of his head. They were watching the scene unfolding before them, but he didn’t look away from Monique.

“Yes,” he carefully said, wondering if he had stepped into some version of Twilight Zone.

“Friends? Your assistant?” She stood, grabbing her designer bag. “I quit,” she announced, and his eyes widened.

“What?”

“I thought you were going to leave her!” Monique shouted, waving her arms in the air dramatically.

“Her? Nadia? My wife? Why would I do that? I love her!” he told her, his own voice rising.

“Right!” she scoffed, shaking her head, pointing a finger at him. “If you loved her the way you say you do, the way you tell everyone you do, you wouldn’t have led me on!”

“I have never—”

“Working late, telling me to call you anytime—” she started to go off on a tangent, but he stopped her.

“For professional reasons—”

“Having me cancel date nights for you. Six in a row.” Shit. Has it been six? “Sending me to buy her your wedding anniversary gifts. Just FYI, Dr. Disaster, a man in love makes time for his woman!” she shrieked. “You were not spending time with her. You were spending time with me!” she pointed out even louder, her glassy stare reflecting back at him.

“I was helping patients—”

“Please!” Monique rolled her eyes, flailing her arms dramatically. “You know you’ve been going above and beyond for your patients lately, right? All these late nights.”

“It’s what I do for my patients,” he growled, trying to keep his cool.

“Having dinner with me!”

“In the hospital cafeteria,“ he pointed out.

“Go to hell. You’re hot, but you are not worth all this.” She walked away swaying her ample ass in a skin-tight pencil skirt.

Has she always dressed like that? he wondered to himself. Wouldn’t he have noticed that? Glancing at his watch as he stepped into the elevator, he groaned; it was going to be another late night. He went into his office, ignoring the stares of the people around him, and shot off an email to Human Resources about the incident and the fact he needed a new assistant.

And two weeks off work.