Hotshot Doc
Page 64
“Oh my gosh, wait—did Derek just text you too? Why do you even bother with him? He’s a total nerd.”
“I like him,” Josie insists, sounding a little defensive. “We’re friends.”
“Why?! He doesn’t hang out with any of the cool guys.”
“So? Who cares? He’s really funny, and I happen to think he’s the cutest boy in our grade.”
I pump my fist in the air. That’s my girl.
Go for the nerd, Josie!
I turn, brush my hands together as if to say, My job here is done, and then stroll back to the bed.
“Happy with yourself?” Matt asks, looking adorable propped up against our headboard with his shirt off. He really should never wear clothes.
I grin. “Very.”
I’m glad to see Josie seems to still have a good head on her shoulders, especially considering the whirlwind of the last two years. Moving to another country, starting a new school, adjusting to life with Matt, and now with this new baby on the way—I’ve kept her at the forefront of my thoughts, careful to make sure she’s not totally overloaded with all the change.
We’ve worked hard to ensure she feels like part of our unit. When Matt was considering proposing to me, he took Josie with him to the jewelry store so she could help him pick out a ring. He later told me she tried to pick out the biggest stone they had (worth tens of millions) and he had to talk her into something a little more realistic, one that wouldn’t cause back strain.
At our tiny wedding ceremony on the beach with close friends and family, Josie acted as flower girl, ring bearer, and maid of honor. If we’d allowed it, she would have been the officiant as well.
“I just got certified online! I think…I’m not sure. I had to enter your credit card information.”
When Matt and I were first thinking of trying to conceive, Josie accidently found my stash of pregnancy tests in our bathroom cabinet. I was making dinner and she walked out, cradling the boxes in her arms, tears running down her face.
I freaked out, assuming the worst—that she was overwhelmed and upset we hadn’t consulted her first—but then with a shuddering sob, she exclaimed, “OH MY GOD! I’m going to be an aunt!”
She didn’t really care that I wasn’t actually pregnant yet. To her, the possibility was just as exciting.
We’ve settled into life here easier than I thought we would. The clinic has taken off. Matt and I both spend our days there, continuing to train staff from all over Costa Rica and operating on patients three days a week. When the grant committee approached Matt and offered him the opportunity to stay on for another two years with full funding, we all jumped at the chance. We love our life here and even though we’ll likely move back to the States when Josie goes off to college, we’re all happy to be here now, growing as a family of three, soon to be four.
Another chorus of laughter rings out from our living room and Matt tugs me closer on the bed.
“You know we’re not getting any sleep tonight, right?” I joke.
“Well, I guess there’s only one thing we can do,” he replies with a smirk.
I know immediately what he’s suggesting.
“No. You’re terrible. We said last time would be it. No more.”
“C’mon,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “You know you want to.”
I smile and shake my head. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“You’re the one who got me addicted.”
It’s true. This is all my fault.
He’s already turning on the TV and navigating to Netflix. “C’mon, indulge your husband.”
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands up in mock defeat.
Then we sit together, hip to hip, while the Grey’s Anatomy theme song plays on our TV.
A few minutes later, he gestures to the screen. “Oh, c’mon! Those doctors would totally get caught.”
He’s talking about the surgeons currently getting it on in a storage closet.
I clear my throat. “Matt, we did that.”
He narrows his gaze on me thoughtfully. “As I recall, we didn’t actually kiss.”
I roll my eyes. “Close enough.”
He quirks a brow. “So you don’t think there’s a difference between an almost kiss and the real thing?”
He starts to shift toward me. He has ideas brewing beneath that thick head of hair. There are teenage girls squealing with delight in the living room and I’m holding him at bay as he guides me down onto the bed. In seconds, I’m underneath him and he looks almost sinister from this angle, too intimidating for his own good.
He props a hand on either side of my head and cages me in against the blankets. I couldn’t move if I tried.
“What are you doing?” I ask, voice shaky.
His smirk makes my stomach flutter. “Proving a point.”
He bends his head and I arch up to meet him instinctively. We’ve done this a million times; my body knows just what to do—except he doesn’t kiss me. His mouth barely skims mine and he’s grinning like a fiend. I’m left…wanting.
Damn him.
“Tell me I’m right,” he taunts. “Tell me they’d get caught.”
“Ugh.” I jerk my head away. “No! You’re not allowed to critique the storyline and point out the inaccuracies the whole time. It’s a TV show—just go with it.”
He leans back, as if deeply insulted. “Pfft. I don’t do that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you kidding?”
He laughs and makes a move to roll off me, but I grip his shoulders and force him to stop.
“Um, excuse me—aren’t you forgetting something?”
I pucker up and he rewards me with a heart-shattering kiss. Only after we’ve broken apart and I’m catching my breath does he think to ask, “By the way, I’ve been wondering—what would my Grey’s Anatomy nickname be?”
“You already have one, remember? You’re my very own Hotshot Doc.”
He frowns. “But there has to be a ‘Mc’ in front of it.”
“Okay then, how about Dr. McGivesHisPregnantWifeFootRubs?”
“Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
“Okay…Dr. McPassesThePopcorn?”
“You see how that doesn’t work, right? It has to be pithy.”
I tap my chin. “Oh okay, yeah. I’ve got one now. Hear me out.”
“All right.”
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Dr. Mc…”
After a long pause, he finally asks, “You don’t have one do you?”
“The good ones are already taken!”
He laughs and tugs me closer. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just stick with Hotshot.”
“I like him,” Josie insists, sounding a little defensive. “We’re friends.”
“Why?! He doesn’t hang out with any of the cool guys.”
“So? Who cares? He’s really funny, and I happen to think he’s the cutest boy in our grade.”
I pump my fist in the air. That’s my girl.
Go for the nerd, Josie!
I turn, brush my hands together as if to say, My job here is done, and then stroll back to the bed.
“Happy with yourself?” Matt asks, looking adorable propped up against our headboard with his shirt off. He really should never wear clothes.
I grin. “Very.”
I’m glad to see Josie seems to still have a good head on her shoulders, especially considering the whirlwind of the last two years. Moving to another country, starting a new school, adjusting to life with Matt, and now with this new baby on the way—I’ve kept her at the forefront of my thoughts, careful to make sure she’s not totally overloaded with all the change.
We’ve worked hard to ensure she feels like part of our unit. When Matt was considering proposing to me, he took Josie with him to the jewelry store so she could help him pick out a ring. He later told me she tried to pick out the biggest stone they had (worth tens of millions) and he had to talk her into something a little more realistic, one that wouldn’t cause back strain.
At our tiny wedding ceremony on the beach with close friends and family, Josie acted as flower girl, ring bearer, and maid of honor. If we’d allowed it, she would have been the officiant as well.
“I just got certified online! I think…I’m not sure. I had to enter your credit card information.”
When Matt and I were first thinking of trying to conceive, Josie accidently found my stash of pregnancy tests in our bathroom cabinet. I was making dinner and she walked out, cradling the boxes in her arms, tears running down her face.
I freaked out, assuming the worst—that she was overwhelmed and upset we hadn’t consulted her first—but then with a shuddering sob, she exclaimed, “OH MY GOD! I’m going to be an aunt!”
She didn’t really care that I wasn’t actually pregnant yet. To her, the possibility was just as exciting.
We’ve settled into life here easier than I thought we would. The clinic has taken off. Matt and I both spend our days there, continuing to train staff from all over Costa Rica and operating on patients three days a week. When the grant committee approached Matt and offered him the opportunity to stay on for another two years with full funding, we all jumped at the chance. We love our life here and even though we’ll likely move back to the States when Josie goes off to college, we’re all happy to be here now, growing as a family of three, soon to be four.
Another chorus of laughter rings out from our living room and Matt tugs me closer on the bed.
“You know we’re not getting any sleep tonight, right?” I joke.
“Well, I guess there’s only one thing we can do,” he replies with a smirk.
I know immediately what he’s suggesting.
“No. You’re terrible. We said last time would be it. No more.”
“C’mon,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “You know you want to.”
I smile and shake my head. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“You’re the one who got me addicted.”
It’s true. This is all my fault.
He’s already turning on the TV and navigating to Netflix. “C’mon, indulge your husband.”
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands up in mock defeat.
Then we sit together, hip to hip, while the Grey’s Anatomy theme song plays on our TV.
A few minutes later, he gestures to the screen. “Oh, c’mon! Those doctors would totally get caught.”
He’s talking about the surgeons currently getting it on in a storage closet.
I clear my throat. “Matt, we did that.”
He narrows his gaze on me thoughtfully. “As I recall, we didn’t actually kiss.”
I roll my eyes. “Close enough.”
He quirks a brow. “So you don’t think there’s a difference between an almost kiss and the real thing?”
He starts to shift toward me. He has ideas brewing beneath that thick head of hair. There are teenage girls squealing with delight in the living room and I’m holding him at bay as he guides me down onto the bed. In seconds, I’m underneath him and he looks almost sinister from this angle, too intimidating for his own good.
He props a hand on either side of my head and cages me in against the blankets. I couldn’t move if I tried.
“What are you doing?” I ask, voice shaky.
His smirk makes my stomach flutter. “Proving a point.”
He bends his head and I arch up to meet him instinctively. We’ve done this a million times; my body knows just what to do—except he doesn’t kiss me. His mouth barely skims mine and he’s grinning like a fiend. I’m left…wanting.
Damn him.
“Tell me I’m right,” he taunts. “Tell me they’d get caught.”
“Ugh.” I jerk my head away. “No! You’re not allowed to critique the storyline and point out the inaccuracies the whole time. It’s a TV show—just go with it.”
He leans back, as if deeply insulted. “Pfft. I don’t do that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you kidding?”
He laughs and makes a move to roll off me, but I grip his shoulders and force him to stop.
“Um, excuse me—aren’t you forgetting something?”
I pucker up and he rewards me with a heart-shattering kiss. Only after we’ve broken apart and I’m catching my breath does he think to ask, “By the way, I’ve been wondering—what would my Grey’s Anatomy nickname be?”
“You already have one, remember? You’re my very own Hotshot Doc.”
He frowns. “But there has to be a ‘Mc’ in front of it.”
“Okay then, how about Dr. McGivesHisPregnantWifeFootRubs?”
“Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
“Okay…Dr. McPassesThePopcorn?”
“You see how that doesn’t work, right? It has to be pithy.”
I tap my chin. “Oh okay, yeah. I’ve got one now. Hear me out.”
“All right.”
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Dr. Mc…”
After a long pause, he finally asks, “You don’t have one do you?”
“The good ones are already taken!”
He laughs and tugs me closer. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just stick with Hotshot.”
