Page 47 of Dr. Baby Daddy

“Hey, Doctor Pine.” Tori grins as she leans beside the nurses’ station and grabs a stack of forms. “Long time no see. You’re never on the overtime shifts with me anymore.”

She walks away, the forms nearly overflowing in her arms. I groan and scrub my hand against my stubble.

As I go through the last few weeks in my head, I try to remember the last overtime shift I worked. It had to be shortly after Izzy moved into the building, but I haven’t worked one since we started getting closer.

What is happening to my life? And am I okay with it?

I used to work almost all of the overtime shifts that came up and now I’m not working any. I’ve been spending more and more time away from the hospital, even though this has been my dream for years.

Stepping back from my career isn’t something I planned to do until I was older. There is still so much I want to accomplish, and if I’m spending more time at home, I’m not getting those things done here.

As much as I love spending time with Izzy, I don’t know if stepping back from my career is a cost that I’m willing to pay.

This is an impossible situation. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I sigh and take off with the stacks of patient files, deciding to visit some of them myself. Throwing myself back into the work might be enough to reverse the potential damage I’ve done to my career these past few weeks.

At the very least, it will keep me from spending my entire day spiraling.

It’s close to midnight by the time I get to Izzy’s apartment that night. Even though I was supposed to be off work hours ago, I ended up picking up more hours. One of the doctors called in for the evening shift, and I was more than happy for the chance to prove that I’m still dedicated to the job.

Izzy looks up from the couch as I unlock the door and let myself in. She gives me a tight smile and nods to the food covered with tin foil on the counter. “It shouldn’t take too long to reheat in the microwave.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to talk when I called you to tell you that I was going to work late. There was a lot going on, and one of the residents needed me to show them the correct way to suture a head laceration.”

“It’s fine. You were needed at work, and I was in the middle of making dinner.” Even though she says that things are fine, her tone tells me that things are definitely not fine.

And I’m about to make them so much worse.

She gets up from the couch and comes to lean against the counter. “I was looking up things we could do while we’re in theHamptons. I was thinking that we could explore a couple of the little villages there.”

Her entire face lights up with excitement. The way her eyes shine only makes me feel worse.

This is too real, and it’s moving too fast.

We haven’t even had a talk about being exclusive and yet we’re talking about going away together. Though there is nobody else I want, I can’t find the words to tell her that I need to slow this down.

Making an excuse for why I can’t be there — especially when it’s partially true — seems like a better option.

I take the foil off the plate and put it in the microwave. “There’s actually been a change of plans. I thought that I was going to be able to go away, but I’ve got too much work to do. I’m so sorry.”

Her smile wavers before she swallows hard and nods. “All right, well, another time then.”

The microwave beeps and I’m grateful for a moment to pull out my food before making the situation worse.

I’m falling hard and fast for Izzy, but I’m not good enough for her. I know that, and I’m sure deep down she knows it too.

“Actually, Iz, I don’t know when I’m going to be able to get away for the next few months. I have a lot going on, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to get any time off from work. I’ve already cut back as it is, and it’s starting to show.”

Her lips press together in a thin line. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re going to be working more and I’m going to see you less than I already do?”

And there it is. The start of the conversation I’ve had with every other women I’ve had a relationship with.

Izzy pushes off the counter and heads back to the couch. She nestles into the corner and picks up her book.

A tear rolls down her cheek that she wipes away. Guilt claws at me, tearing my stomach to shreds. I rub a hand on my chest, trying to soothe away the ache.

To my surprise, the conversation I expected to have doesn’t start. Instead, Izzy throws up walls I never knew she had while I sit down at the counter to eat. She doesn’t say anything as she flips her way through her book.

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