Page 1 of You Loved Me Once

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Chapter 1

Today has been a remarkable day. It’s the kind that every doctor lives for. I kickedasstoday. All of my surgeries went perfectly, no big surprises or complications. Two chemo patients got to ring the bell, indicating they’re done with treatment, and I only had to deliver bad news to one person.

That is a good day. Being a gynecological oncologist doesn’t grant me many of them, but this...this was one.

“We have another surgery lined up in about an hour. I’m going to check on another patient and then I’ll see you back down here,” I explain.

Martina gives me the look that says I’m micromanaging again. “We’re prepping the room now. Don’t worry, we’re on top of it.”

“Good. I would hate to have to find a new nurse.”

She laughs. “You will never get rid of me.”

“Lucky me.”

“I agree, you’re lucky I love you enough to deal with your crazy!” Martina yells as I’m walking away.

“Feeling is mutual!” I reply over my shoulder.

She is truly the best nurse I’ve ever worked with. Her patients come first, and she isn’t afraid to piss people off to get things done. Which is pretty much how I live. My patients are my world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help a patient fight this horrible disease.

I enter my favorite patient, Mrs. Whitley’s, room.

“Well, I thought you weren’t going to stop by this morning.” Her smile is bright and warm.

Mrs. Whitley has become almost like a second mother to me in the last four years. Since she moved to inpatient care this month, I have begun coming here each morning to catch up with her and tell her more than I should. Today, though, I couldn’t get here as early as I normally do.

“I had an emergency.”

She scoffs. “Oh, please. I know you’re a busy doctor and don’t have time to sit with a dying woman.”

“You’re not dying today. You’re too ornery to drift off peacefully.”

She’s the patient that med school professors warn you about—the ones you grow attached to and start to look at as something more than just a number.

I’ve done my best to keep her at a distance, but she’s warm, funny, kind, and very alone. I see myself in her more than I care to admit most days. The way she’s pushed her family and friends away when she lost the love of her life. How she struggles with forgiving herself for not doing enough.

But most of all, she reminds me of my mother. Which is really the worst part. “Now, tell me about your doctor beau.”

I roll my eyes because most patients want to talk about themselves, but not her. She got wind of the gossip a few months ago and hasn’t let up since.

“Westin is good.”

“Just good? Then the boy isn’t doing it right.”

I laugh. “He’s wonderful, but you know I’m not going to get serious about anyone, least of all another doctor who is far too busy for a relationship. Whether he thinks he is or not.”

This earns me a pointed finger. “Now, you listen, Serenity, you are not immune to love because you have a career. My Leo was a great businessman, but he had room for me and our son.”

She is also the only patient I allow to call me by my first name.

I never correct her and I can’t help but smile at how just the mention of her beloved husband causes her eyes to go soft. Leo died of a heart attack about five years ago. All the signs were there, but he pretended everything was fine, like my mother.

I knew better and if I had pushed her harder, maybe she would’ve lived.

I shake that off because I can’t get wrapped up in nostalgia today, I have surgeries, and then tomorrow . . .

“I know that look . . .”