Page 53 of Never Quite Gone

“Truth comes in its own time,” he replied. “For now, there's coffee and morning light and memories that deserve to be spoken aloud.”

I looked around the café – at Michael's empty corner, at the baristas who still snuck glances at me with careful concern, at this new table that held its own kind of promise.

Maybe that's what healing really was. Not forgetting, but making room for new memories alongside the old. Not moving on, but moving forward with all the pieces that made you who you are.

The phone rang precisely at 7:15 AM, catching me mid-coffee. I'd barely been home twelve hours after the Rothschild party, my mind still churning with Will's strange questions and Alex's cryptic promises.

“Dr. Monroe,” Vale's voice was crisp, professional – and entirely out of place on my first day of mandatory administrative leave. “I need you to come to theoffice.”

I nearly laughed. “Excuse me?”

“There are urgent forms that require your immediate attention. Your signature is critical for the hospital development project.”

Something felt off. Mandatory leave meant exactly that – mandatory time away from the hospital. Bureaucratic procedure was clear: no work, no contact, complete disconnection. “That's not how administrative leave works,” I said carefully. “Is there a problem?”

A pause. Just long enough to confirm something was definitely wrong.

“The board needs your specific authorization,” Vale pressed. “I can email the documents, but they prefer?—“

“No,” I interrupted. “If the board needs something, they can contact my representative. That's standard protocol for someone on leave.”

Another pause. Then, “Dr. Monroe. Your presence is required.”

The command beneath the words was new. Vale had never spoken to me like that before – not in all our years working together. My surgeon's instincts, the same ones that had me reading micro-expressions in critical moments, were screaming.

“I'll be there in an hour,” I found myself saying, though every rational part of me knew I shouldn't.

I wasn't even dressed for the hospital. Worn jeans, a soft navy sweater I'd grabbed from the back of my closet – clothes meant for a quick coffee run or picking up groceries, not for official business. My hospital badge was tucked into the pocket of my jacket, an afterthought, a reminder that I was technically still on administrative leave.

I think Vale just wanted to keep an eye on me during my forced leave. But I needed the distraction – anything to keep my mind from spinning around the conversation I'd overheard in the coffee shop that morning, a fragment of dialogue that had sent a chill down my spine.

My phone buzzed just as I was contemplating the merits of reorganizing my entire filing system:“Roof in 10? Brought sustenance.”

I had no real excuse to refuse. With forced leave keeping me from seeing patients, my schedule was an endless stretch of paperwork and restless energy. A moment of hesitation—professionalism warring with something deeper, more instinctive.

Instead, I found myself taking familiar stairs two at a time, emerging into afternoon sunshine to find Alex arranging what looked like a proper picnic.

“Is that from Mai Thai?” I asked, recognizing the containers that Rachel was always praising. “How did you even get them to deliver here?”

“Who says they deliver?” Alex's smile held playful mystery as he handed me a container that smelled amazing. “Some things are worth a personal trip.”

“How did you know I'd be free?” I settled onto the blanket he'd somehow produced, noting how he'd chosen my favorite spot – the one with the best view of the city skyline.

“I didn't.” He started arranging spring rolls with careful precision. “But I've learned to take chances.”

“Is that what this is?” I gestured between us, surprised by my own boldness. “Taking chances?”

Alex considered this while adjusting the napkins – real cloth ones, because of course they were. “I think it's about choices,” he said finally. “Fate might bring people together, but it's choice that keeps them there.”

“That's very philosophical for a rooftop picnic,” I observed, but found myself smiling.

“What can I say? Good Thai food brings out my profound side.”

The food was perfect – spicy enough to wake up my taste buds after too many hospital cafeteria meals. We fell into easy conversation about hospital politics, about Alex's latest developmentproject, about Sofia's uncanny ability to know everything that happened in the ER.

“She terrifies the board, you know,” Alex said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Will tried to exclude her from a meeting once. Just once. The look she gave him – I thought he might spontaneously combust.”

His impression of his brother's affronted expression startled a laugh from me – real, unguarded, free. The sound surprised me so much I almost choked on my pad thai.

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