Page 88 of Infinite
“How is Quinn?”
“He’s doing well. He’s working on a new set of training guidelines, which I care nothing about but listen to him drone on for hours and hours.”
Carolina giggles. “Much like I’m sure he thinks about your laboratory work.”
I scoff. “I’m very engaging.”
“Sure you are.”
“Why did I agree to walk with you again?” I ask.
“No clue, but here you are.”
We get to the conference room, which is set up almost like a living room. Carolina and Greyson designed it to feel welcoming and less like an office. This is where most of the bad news is delivered, so I doubt the patients care, but I can appreciate that our staff does.
A girl, who is about my age with long blonde hair, jumps to her feet. She moves quickly toward me. I take in how beautiful she is. I can tell she works out because there are only four people in the world who get to look as perfect as she does without working for it—Gretchen being one. She moves with grace and the poise of a dancer. Her face is delicate and she has these thick dark lashes that are so freaking stunning I’m instantly jealous.
When she stops right in front of me, her excitement is palpable. “Are you Dr. Caputo?”
I smile and shake my head. “I’m Ashton, but I’m not a doctor.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She turns and looks to her husband, waving her hand at him to come closer. “This is my husband, Byron. We’re . . . well, we know all about your work, and Dr. Danton speaks so highly of you. We almost went to the clinic in New York when we heard they were the best with this, and then . . .” Tears fill her eyes, and she struggles to catch her breath. “Then you came here.”
“Please don’t cry,” I say the words with a smile. “You’ll ruin your mascara, and we all know a woman covets her lashes.”
Wendy giggles and drops her voice to a whisper. “They’re extensions because I cry . . . a lot.”
“I do too.”
Byron reaches his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well, please call me Ashton. I’m just a biologist, and while my family wished I got my doctorate, I’m not as stuffy as these two.” I wink and toss my thumb toward Carolina and Greyson.
We all sit around the couches and start to discuss everything. I’m as thorough as possible without being boring. Mostly, my goal is to make them feel comfortable. They can hold off longer if they’d like or forge ahead. I’d like them to feel that my confidence is as strong as ever, even if it’s not.
There are many variables that can affect the success rate, and I want them to understand that, while I’ve done this before, it doesn’t mean we’ll have the same outcome.
“So, there is a fifty-fifty chance either way?” Wendy asks while gripping her husband’s hand.
“Yes. There are no guarantees, but Dr. Danton and I are very good at what we do and will do everything in our power to give you the best chance.”
“But you didn’t do this with him before?” Byron asks and then turns to Greyson. “No offense, Dr. D.”
“None taken,” he assures them. “Ashton worked in the lab with another endocrinologist, but we are very close colleagues, and Dr. Madison has shared all of her notes and research. I do want you both to know that if I weren’t confident in my or Ashton’s abilities to handle this, I would refer you to another clinic who could.”
Wendy sighs. “You think this is our best chance?”
My voice is strong as I answer her question. “I think it’s not only the best time but also that you’re in the most caring location. I loved where I was before, so please don’t take this as a slight, but it’s clinical in New York. Here you have the support of the entire staff. I truly believe that no matter how far science has come, there’s something to be said about the human heart. Our team here treats each patient uniquely, and if we didn’t think we would be successful, then we would be laying things out very differently. It’s a chance, but it’s truly your best one.”
“I wish you understood. I’ve lost so much.”
I’m not one to overshare, especially with a patient, but I get her. On a base level, I can feel her pain and fear. She and I are kindred spirits in many ways, and who knows, maybe one day, I’ll be in this same predicament. I would want to know the people walking this road with me really got what it meant.
To me, Wendy isn’t a case file.
She’s not a statistic or an award to try to obtain.
She’s a person with a dream of being a mother. Her heart is laid out right before us, and it’s our job to let her know that we will take care of it.
