As I sweep her hair back from her forehead, I remember the insane social schedule we have coming up. “You should buy a new dress. For the next wedding.”
Nina props herself up on her elbow, placing one hand on my chest. “You’ve already given me a wardrobe full of designer clothing. Why would I need another?”
I loop an arm around her waist with a growl.
“You're a Petrov now. You have to look the part.”
“It's unnecessary. I’ve already done more shopping in the past month for the wedding than in my entire life.”
“I’m in charge of the spending for this organization,” I drawl. “It's necessary if I say it is. And right now I do.”
Nina heaves a sigh.
“I’ve never seen such complaining about a woman having to spendmoney on clothing.”
“Well then, you shouldn't have married me,” she replies. “I’ve gone for years living on the bare minimum. You live in this insane house which has an archery course, Art.”
She gestures at the manicured lawn, the tennis courts, and the swimming pool.
“Like seriously, were you thinking of hosting the next Olympics?”
I chuckle and pull her close. “We just like sports.”
Nina has that look in her eye right now like she wants to fight, but I'm not gonna give it to her. So what if she doesn't want to spend my money?
It's not a real problem, even if it does hurt that she's so reluctant to take my instructions on my world, which is totally new to her.
I hold up my hands. “Fine. Don't spend my money.”
She'll come around at some point. If there's one thing no one can resist, it's money.
27
NINA
Returning to Middlefield is like crashing back down to reality from a cloud. Everything is too bright, and hard, and exhausting.
Two weeks away and I’ve gone soft.
Even with all the new staffing and equipment that Art has brought in, it's overwhelming to be back. I'd forgotten how loud it is, beeping and yelling and constant movement around the different wards.
The nice thing about being with Art is that I never feel like I'm doing something wrong. I can yell at him, and he will just yell back. But he never talks down to me.
Criticism is one of the hardest parts of being a resident. At this point, I'm pretty used to it and I've got a thick skin, but diving back into it is hitting hard.
“Not as fast as you used to be,” says Dr. Roberts in the operatingroom when I hesitate for a split-second over passing him the right scalpel.
Dr. Webber yells at me when I take too long to change a set of scrubs. And not a single person takes me aside to suggest that he’s being unreasonable.
I confront Lily about it, when there's a finally a break where we both overlap. She pauses with a grimace as soon as I ask the question.
“So, what are people saying about me?”
“What have you heard?” Her tone is cautious.
“Nothing. That's why I'm so damn curious. All has been quiet on the Western Front, and at Middlefield, the gossip mill is never quiet.”
Lily sighs and steeples her hands on the table in front of her, averting her eyes from me.
