Page 34 of Single Daddy Doctor Dreamy

Her words ease some of the tension I’ve been carrying. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I admit. “You gave those nurses the courage to speak up.”

Lucy’s cheeks flush, and she ducks her head. “I just listened. They’re the brave ones.”

“Thank you,” I say, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into my touch, and for a moment, the weight of the week fades away. It’s just us, in this quiet moment of understanding.

The moment is interrupted by the buzz of my phone on the table. I glance at the screen and see a text from Patel:Just heard. Rivkin’s lawyer is involved now. Be ready.

The ache in my chest deepens. This isn’t over—not by a long shot.

The next day brings an entirely new level of tension. Rivkin’s name is on everyone’s lips, whispered in break rooms and exchanged in hurried glances. So much for keeping things confidential.

Patel’s warning about the lawyer proves accurate. HR has been inundated with questions from staff worried about retaliation.

During rounds, I catch sight of Rivkin in the hallway. He’s speaking with two men in sharp suits, his face set in a grim mask. For a moment, his eyes lock with mine, and the tension between us is unmistakable. He doesn’t say anything, just turns and walks away. But the message is clear; he’s not going down without a fight.

By mid-afternoon, another email from Ms. Palmer hits my inbox. The board is holding an emergency meeting to discuss next steps. I skim the message quickly and realize they’re asking me to attend, to provide clarity on the evidence I submitted.

I text Lucy with an update while I’m preparing my notes for the meeting. She quickly responds:You’ve got this. Proud of you.

Her encouragement steadies me, and I take a deep breath. This is what I signed up for when I hit send on that letter. If Rivkin wants to fight, I’ll be ready.

By the time the meeting starts, the boardroom feels like a pressure cooker. The members are tense, their questions sharp. I go through everything methodically, answering each query with as much detail as possible. It’s clear they’re trying to cover every angle, anticipating the blowback Rivkin’s lawyer is already stirring up.

After nearly two hours, Ms. Palmer adjourns the meeting. As I leave, I overhear one of the members mutter to another, “This is going to get ugly before it’s over.”

Outside the boardroom, Patel is waiting for me. “How’d it go?” he asks.

“They’re thorough,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s not going to be easy, but they’re taking this seriously.”

Patel looks at me, his expression serious. “Good. Because Rivkin… he’s already playing dirty. I’ve heard rumors he’s threatening to sue for defamation. Be careful, Joel.”

I give him a tight nod, the weight of the warning sinking in. This fight isn’t over yet—and I’m going to have to be ready for whatever comes next.

17

LUCY

The news about Dr. Rivkin being dropped from the list of candidates for chief of staff is a relief. I’m thrilled, not just for Joel but for the entire hospital. Joel hasn’t said much about it. He’s always measured in moments like these, but I can tell he’s relieved too. His actions made this happen, his bravery in standing up for what’s right. I feel a surge of pride knowing that I’m part of his life, supporting him in ways I never thought I could.

With Joel tied up in meetings at the hospital, I decide to surprise the boys after school. Miles and Finn tumble into the car, their backpacks askew, and faces bright with the energy that only an eight- and six-year-old can muster after a full day of learning.

“Guess what?” I say, turning around in the driver’s seat to face them.

“What?” they chorus, eyes wide with curiosity.

“We’re going to the ice cream store. Your dad won’t be home until later, so I think we need ice cream, just us three.”

“Yes!” Miles pumps his fist in the air.

“Can I get sprinkles?” Finn asks, his face lighting up.

“Of course,” I say, laughing. “Sprinkles are a must.”

The ice cream shop is a quaint little spot on Main Street with pastel-colored walls and the scent of waffle cones wafting through the air. Finn insists on trying three different samples before deciding on chocolate with rainbow sprinkles, while Miles opts for a towering cone of mint chip. I settle for a small vanilla, content to watch them revel in their treat.

We sit by the window, the boys giggling as Finn’s cone starts to drip down his fingers. I hand him a napkin, smiling at the joy radiating from their faces. It’s moments like these that remind me how lucky I am to be a part of their lives. I may have come here to escape my own troubles, but these boys have given me a sense of purpose I didn’t know I needed.

As we finish up, my phone buzzes with a text from Joel.

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