Page 82 of Doctor One Night

When I finish, Frankie leans in and kisses me softly. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” she whispers.

I cup her face in my hands, struck by how much she's come to mean to me. “Thank you for being here,” I say. “For being you.”

We fall silent then, content to just be together, to find comfort in each other's presence. The world outside seems distant, unimportant. Here, in this moment, it's just us—two people who've found each other in the midst of loss, forging a connection that seems as crucial as air in my lungs.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Frankie

Tuesday, June 11

10:14 am

My laptop dings with a new email notification, pulling me away from the document I’ve been working on for the last two hours. I glance at the screen and see Theo Bench’s name in the sender line, with Hunter copied. My heart skips a beat as I click it open.

Subject: IRB Approval for Compassionate Use

Frankie, Hunter:

The IRB has granted approval to move forward with the compassionate use of the pacemaker for Grace Petit. Let’s discuss next steps as soon as possible. This is a significant achievement. Well done.

Theo

A rush of excitement floods through me, and I barely suppress the urge to let out a cheer. This is huge. I know how much it means to Hunter and what it could mean for Grace. Not to mention, I can't deny the excitement of putting all these years of work and research to practice.

It’s one step closer to making all of this worth it.

I immediately reach for my phone, wanting to call Hunter and share the news. I know how excited he is going to be, how deeply he cares about Grace and her outcome. Just as I’m about to dial, I remember he’s in surgery right now. He has a full day of back-to-back procedures, which is why he didn’t stay over last night. The first night we haven’t spent together in two weeks, and I miss him more than I expected I might.

A mix of anticipation and longing comes over me after I set the phone down. I want to tell him right away, but I also know how important it is for him to stay focused during surgery.

I’ll have to wait until he’s out. But knowing Hunter, as soon as he gets a break, he’ll see the email, and he’ll know. I guess selfishly I wanted to be the one to tell him.

We can still celebrate together when he is done with work. I light my lavender candle and bask in the comfort and presence of my mom.

I walk back over to the computer and stare at the email from Theo. A whirlwind of emotions sweeps through me. Relief, excitement, and a deep sense of responsibility all vie for dominance. The past two weeks have been an earnest waiting game—one filled with uncertainty and a growing sense of urgency.

Grace has been in the hospital, her condition deteriorating with each passing day. I know this grueling waiting game well.

She has been in and out of the cardiology ward, where the medical staff has been monitoring her around the clock, since she had the heart attack. The doctors have been doing everything they can to manage her symptoms, but it’s been clear that time is running out.

Hunter and Jonah have been on edge since we submitted the compassionate use request. Jonah, who’s become something of a guardian for Grace, has been visibly anxious. Every time I see him in the hallways, there’s a tension in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. And, according to Hunter, when he isn’t working, he is checking on her or sitting with her in her room.

Hunter, on the other hand, has tried to keep his usual stoic demeanor, but I’ve noticed the subtle signs of strain: the way his jaw tightens when someone mentions Grace, the way he clenches his fists when he thinks no one’s looking. This isn’t just another patient for him, this is personal.

And somehow, it’s become personal for me too. Grace is my mom. This innovative device will save her life.

Every day has felt like a marathon. I’ve been pouring over the data, making sure everything is airtight, that there’s nothing that could cause this to fall apart at the last minute.

Meanwhile, Hunter has been working with Dr. Calloway, doing everything in his power to keep Grace stable. He has said more than once to me that if we didn’t get this approval, we might lose her.

It’s been a long two weeks. A long, agonizing two weeks.

But now, with this email sitting in front of me, I can finally breathe a little easier. We have the green light. Grace is going to get the pacemaker. This is it!

It's not lost on me that something that brought Hunter and I together is connected in so many ways. And now, someone he cares deeply for will be the first recipient.

So, instead, I close my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the past two weeks fall away, replaced by a sense of cautious optimism. We’re not out of the woods yet—there’s still so much to do—but it finally seems like there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

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