Page 37 of Doctor Charmer

“Had called me Dr. Charmer thirty times before the party even started.”

“So, she thinks…”

“Why would she be any different?” I lift my head and stare at the doorway. The image of Ivy standing there, her eyes pleading with me to explain.

“Because you refuse to let people in,” Angie berates me. “Drop the charm and have a genuine conversation with her. Let her see the man beneath the image. Show her the Wizard is just a PR stunt that got out of control.”

“Drop it. I called to give you the heads-up about coverage for tomorrow.”

“Bull,” she shouts. Angie never shouts.

“What did he say to you? Do I have to turn this car around and show him how to speak to a woman?”Brayton snaps to her defense, and a part of me is glad to see she has a knight in shining armor in her court. But she doesn’t need one. Never has. I picture her lifting a single finger in his direction, silencing him.

“You called because you’re tired of being the charming doctor. You want to take a chance with Ivy but have no clue how.”

She cuts right to the heart of the matter. Have I been this blatant all day? I think of the comments from Nurse Reynolds. Has it been right in the open all along? “I let her go. I let her leave thinking I’m hiding something from her.”

“Because you are, dumbass,” she continues to pile on. “You are hiding the fact that you are a good man with a good heart who sacrifices for others when no one is looking. For the life of me, I don’t know why you think you need to hide this.” I start to speak, but she cuts me off. “And if you are about to spout some nonsense that you have a reputation to protect, I’m going to jump through this phone and smack you. Look at the calendar. You’re not twenty-five any longer. Hell, you’re not even thirty-five.

“You called me for some tough love. Well, here it is. Stop hiding. Find her. Tell her. Show her who you are. You said she left already, which means you have absolutely nothing to lose by doing this.”

“She’s gone.”

“There’s this wonderful device we’re speaking on called a phone. Or better yet, she still has two kids in the hospital — it may be after visiting hours, but there is no way she leaves the hospital without checking in on her students. Hang up the phone and go get her before she leaves the hospital. Tell her how you feel. Show her the heart I know. It’s bigger than you think.”

“Enough pumping up his ego. It’s already too big for his head.”Brayton’s words cause me to chuckle. Her words are sosimple, so straightforward. It’s what my instincts wanted me to do all along. Speak.

“Enjoy the dancing. You’re the best.” I give her back the rest of her night.

“Call me tomorrow with the update, and we can talk about what you’re going to do with HR next.”

“Good night, Angie. Thank Brayton for me.” I click off the line with a lightness I didn’t possess ten minutes earlier. Angie always knows how to make me see what is important.

I hop to my feet and race through the door, down the hall, hitting the steps two at a time again.

It takes less than a minute for me to reach the fifth floor, my feet making a beeline to Griffin’s room. I ignore the overnight nurses clocking me on the floor; the hospital gossip mill will be working overtime with my activities this evening.

I push into the room. It’s quiet, Griffin scrolling on his phone, Chelsea sleeping. I scan, looking for Ivy, and come up empty.

“Dude, come on, no more needles.”

I shake my head. “I’m not here for that. I’m looking for Coach.”

Chelsea stirs from the noise, her eyes opening as she wipes a hand across them. “Wha… What’s going on?”

“Nothing, you can go back to sleep. Dr. Morgan is looking for Coach,” Griffin says.

She shifts, sitting up in the bed, a soft smile on her face. “I bet he is. It’s the dress, right?” she says in my direction. “I helped her with her makeup.”

“She was just here a minute ago, grabbed her bag with her clothes from earlier, and raced out.” Griffin gives me the info I’m seeking.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Doc,” Chelsea calls me, and I freeze at the doorway. “I’ve never seen Coach nervous before.” She pauses. “Like ever. We had a truck barreling at us, and she never once shook.” I recallwhat she did with the volleyballs. A split-second decision that could only be made by someone who never rattles.

“I know,” I say, unsure of what else to say.

“Dude,” Griffin says, glancing at Chelsea as if to sayyou believe this guy?

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