Medically Speaking

Chapter 19

It's really no secret at all that food is my favorite thing in the world. I love eating it. I love cooking it. I love baking it. I love watching TV shows about it. If I had to guess what my own version of heaven would smell like, I'm sure that freshly baked bread and roast on a dreary day would be filling the air. Skipping lunch is something that brings me sadness and I find no joy in having to steal tiny snacks in the short periods of time where I can.

Oli once joked that I could smell a buffet from a mile away and he might have been on to something. I have a sixth sense for knowing when other floors or even different departments in the adult wings of the hospital are hosting baby showers or going away parties and I'm known for charming my way in so I can steal some seven layer dip.

Potlucks are my jam. I show up for staff meetings purely because I know there will be snacks. If I'm hosting an event, there will be food. I'm the friend who always has something to munch on of some variety in her purse.

Which is why when the doors open and I jerk up straight at the desk, sniffing the air, and ask, "What smells so good?" the other nurses milling around perk up and start glancing down the hallway. I know what hospital food smells like and for me to make note of it, they know it's not the patient lunch cart from the cafeteria. It's not that the hospital has bad food, there's just something about it that has always smelled different.

I swear, I start drooling when I see Marc and Axel coming down the hallway and it's only partially because Axel's jeans are hugging his thighs in a way that could lead a weaker woman to sinful thoughts and Marc is giving me a smile that could make glaciers melt. No, it's the boxes they're carrying that have my attention—primarily, the logo for my favorite local sub shop.

"Hey, Joey. Ladies," Marc greets as he rests the box he's carrying on top of the counter. Things have been better on the floor this week and they've slowly been getting back in the good graces of the nurses. Having breakfast delivered Tuesday morning—paying extra so the caterer would bring it in early enough for night shift to eat before they left—had worked in their favor. They'd also had food delivered to the radiology department, the food service workers, anyone who had been directly involved in Brandon's care. Also known as anyone who'd had to put up with their attitude.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that Oli or Phil tipped them off that they way to a nurse's heart—especially mine—is through their stomach.

"Good—" I trailed off as I glanced at my watch, "—technically still morning. Are you taunting me with your lunch?" Things had been awkward for a few more days after I'd talked to Sean and Mr. Blackbourne, but things had slowly been relaxing again. They had been following the rules without complaint and in the week since their council meeting, they had already started scheduling first aid training and volunteer hours. Part of me had worried they'd put it off, since I'd given them six months, but they didn't waste time.

I'd say that we're almost back to normal. It was like all fifteen of us were standing on the edge of normalcy, but we were all hesitating to take that step back over the ledge. We were all waiting for someone else to be brave and make the first move and anytime it seemed like someone might have possibly taken a misstep, progress screeched to a halt. It was an awkward dance of polite distance meets friendly fondness.

With a side of coming out of my post-dating haze and accepting that not only are they attractive, but I am attracted to them. Every time they've been sweet, thoughtful, or any number of desirable things this week, it has chipped at my resolve. I've never lied to myself, they're all dangerously handsome. But there's more there than just their looks and it's getting harder to ignore. Which is a problem all on its own.