Page 38 of Second Chance for the Single Mom

“I’m a pediatrician.”

I almost choked on my garlic bread.

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Haley

“You’re a doctor?” I blurted out.

“Technically, I’m in my first year of residency for pediatrics,” Jordan explained. “Some of my residency is at Doernbecher Children’s Hospital, but I’m focusing on Primary Care Pediatrics, which emphasizes clinic work. So, most of my time is spent at the pediatric clinic.”

I stared at him in complete shock. My mouth was hanging open, but I couldn’t help it.

Jordan Mayfield was a freakingdoctor?

Fortunately, he didn’t notice the way I was gawking at him, because Sara was still asking him questions. “Wait a minute. Doesn’t that take, like, a decade of school?”

“I got my bachelor’s in three years,” he replied, gesturing with a fork. “Then four years of med school.”

“You finished college in three years,” I said dumbly.

Jordan turned his blue gaze on me. “Dang, Haley. You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“That’s quite the transformation from most likely to join the circus,” Sara said, giving me a pointed look.

I glared right back at her.No. This wasn’t a date.

“How do you have the time to coach little league?” I asked. “I’ve watched every episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Residents work, like, insane hours.”

“It’s only a part-time residency, thanks to budget problems at the hospital.” He paused to wipe his mouth with a napkin. “That means it’ll take me four or five years to complete my residency, instead of three.”

“Couldn’t you go to a different hospital?” Sara asked. “And complete your residency in three years, like everyone else?”

“I could,” Jordan admitted, “but then I wouldn’t get to work exclusively with kids. Besides, I kind of like having normal nine-to-five hours. It means I get to have a social life. And coach little league.” He reached across the table and poked Bran on the nose. “I’d go crazy if I worked eighty hours a week like all the other residents. Why are you staring at me like that, Haley?”

I gave myself a shake. “Sorry, I’m struggling to picture you as a doctor. The last thing I remembered from high school was when you broke into the cafeteria, dumped tomato sauce all over your body, and went streaking across the parking lot.”

“What’s streaking?” Bran asked.

“Nothing,” I told him. “Something grown-ups do sometimes.”

Jordan was grinning widely. “I forgot all about that. Man, I had some issues back then.”

“I didn’t mean to say you had issues,” I quickly replied. “You were just the class clown.”

Jordan hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “Oh, I definitely had some issues. I used to havecrazysocial anxiety.”

“Now thathasto be a joke,” I said. “Out of everyone in our graduating class, I would say you were the most comfortable in social situations.”

“You’d think so,” he replied with a half-smile. “But nope, I was crippled with anxiety for a long time. I eventually learned to deflect it with humor. Making jokes and acting out in class? It was all a way for me to control a situation, rather than sitting back and allowing things to happen.” He turned to Sara. “I dated a psych major in med school. She gave me a free diagnosis when we broke up. At first I thought she was just trying to hurt my feelings, but then I realized everything she said made a lot of sense.”

“And now you heal sick kids,” Sara said.

“I try! Although my job at the clinic isn’t very glamorous. I mostly check kids for ear infections and hand out lollipops. Although last week I did remove a Lego from a little girl’s nose.” He grinned at Bran. “It waswayup there.”

“Woah,” Bran said, eyes wide.

“A pediatrician resident who gets off work at five,” Sara mused. “And who coaches little league. You must have to fight off the women with a baseball bat.”

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