Page 2 of The Good Billionaire
If she wanted to pretend the mountain of tension wasn’t there, I could too. Ihadto for the sake of my patient.
Kennedy returned to the OR and sat by Cal’s head, ready for me to begin. Even though I’d met Cal in a pre-op room, I strutted in and greeted my patient one last time before I gave him back his throwing arm.
“Doc, tell me again this ain’t the end for me. I’m just getting started here.”
With my magical operating skills, the QB, who allowed Jets fans to dream of going to the Super Bowl, would be back next season better than new. “It’s not the end for you, Cal. I promise,” I answered the quarterback, but looked over at Kennedy, who kept her head down reading her equipment.
“Are we ready, Dr. Hart?” I called out to her.
Assistants’ eyes wandered all over the room. Kennedy and I had never operated together at Mercy. The surgical team looked confused by the same name being thrown around.
Athletes from all over the world came to New York City to lay on my table. Only, they’d rushed Cal to Mercy Hospital after thetackle and not theCenter for Surgical Excellencewhere I saved careers. TheCenterwas for scheduled surgeries. NFL, MLB, NHL, NBA, and Olympic stars sat on waiting lists for me to fix their gifted hands, arms, ankles, shoulders, and knees.
Kennedy nodded. “Ready, doctor. Cal, I’m...” Her instructions to him drowned in a blur, instructions I had heard hundreds of times at hundreds of surgeries with hundreds of anesthesiologists. This felt like a dream come true, not just being with her again, but working with her again.
Slowly, Cal’s eyes closed until he was out cold.
“He’s all yours, doctor,” Kennedy said to me with a voice as cold as ice and her eyes on her equipment.
I glanced down at my scalpels and cracked my neck. “Let’s make Jets fans sleep a little easier tonight, folks.”
KENNEDY TURNED OFFher equipment and changed out the Propofol bag for a saline cocktail to bring Cal out of his state of unconsciousness slowly and beautifully. She had a gift. A damn unrecognized one because I grabbed the spotlight.
Nurses took over getting Cal off the operating table and back to his bed where he’d soon be wheeled into recovery.
The clock on the wall flashed six p.m. Could I just...ask my wife to go for a drink? I needed her and I’d had enough of waiting for her to come around.
“Kennedy, we’re getting some dinner at Patsy’s, you coming?” one of the nurses said, tucking Cal into a heated blanket.
It was December. A couple of weeks before Christmas. When we’d first moved to New York City, I’d brought her up to the Empire State Building observation deck so she could see the whole city. My city. She’d marveled at all the lights while holdingme close. I couldn’t remember the lights right now because I’d been focused on her. When had that changed?
Kennedy typed something in her phone and with an even face, she glanced at me, her eyes still distant. “Can’t, Amy. I have a date. Thanks anyway.”
An icy wave crawled up my spine. With the surgery behind me and not another one scheduled for two weeks at the new center I had opened in San Francisco, I let a tidal wave of emotions flood my system.
When Kennedy left the OR, I jogged to catch up to her as she headed to the doctor’s locker room. “A date, huh?”
“It’s none of your business, Sebastian.”
“You’re still my wife, that sort of makes you having aboyfriendmy business.”
She stopped short. “It’s a date.”
“A first date? Second date?” My stomach twisted. “A...third date?”
She smirked, killing me. I’d taken her virginity the first week of medical school and when she’d left our townhouse six months ago, I was the only man who’d had her.
She continued walking to the locker room, her ass bobbing in the scrubs. She’d always been packed in the trunk, firm and beautiful. “Second date,” she said over her shoulder.
Which meant the first date had gone well and shelikedthe fucker. Who was he? Another doctor? That burned me even more. Lost in anger, I blurted, “Are you bringinghimto my sister’s wedding?”
Kennedy lowered her head and swung back around.
Mentioning Savannah’s wedding next weekend changed Kennedy before my eyes. As if time had folded in on itself, her shoulders softened. Biting her lip, she rushed up to me, fast and furious. I set my foot back wondering if I were about to be punched.
“Of course, I’m not bringing him to Savannah’s wedding.”
“Then you’ll do what I asked you?” Pleaded, really. Over several texts when I’d figured out Kennedy wasn’t coming home.
