Page 23 of Love Medley
Dropping my oversized hobo leather bag next to her couch, I sink onto the comfortable cushions. There are already two stemless glasses and a bottle of rosé wine on the coffee table.
My insides constrict instantly at the sight—Weston wouldn’t approve of me drinking.
I only hesitate slightly before deciding to ignore his disapproval. We aren’t dating any more, after all.
As Isabelle pours the pink liquid into the glasses, I sigh, the pressure of the day leaving my body. Tonight's ER shift was busy even without all the added drama. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, I’ve been on edge, so relaxing with Iz is one step short of heaven.
“I hope I haven’t interrupted your studying,” I say, trying to tamp down my almost giddy eagerness to tell Isabelle about Jake. I need to catch up with her first, not launch into all that.
“No, hon. I’m plumb worn out. My brain is going fuzzy with all the facts I need to know for my Pediatrics Infectious Diseases rotation.” Isabelle has a disgruntled look on her face.
Uh oh. From her expression, I’m now honed in on her—something’s not right. “How is that going?”
“It’s harder than I thought,” Iz sighs. “The ID residents are hardcore. They’ve memorized lists and lists of viruses and bacteria. But me? I constantly have to look up the names of really obscureorganisms and their treatments, and I can’t keep them straight no matter how long I study.”
I sense that Isabelle is trying to cover up her discomfort, so I try to lighten the mood. “Oof. No, thank you. How about some broad-spectrum antibiotics for everyone? Done and done.”
Iz laughs, her face breaking open in a more genuine smile. “Such an ER gal. My attending would pitch a hissy fit if she heard you use the term 'broad-spectrum antibiotics.' It’s all ‘If you don’t narrow them yesterday, you’re doing it wrong’ with her.”
She takes a quick sip of her wine. “I just feel so stupid on the rotation. How can I expect anyone to take me seriously if I can’t even come up with a reasonable differential?”
I frown. “Iz, you're so smart. I’m convinced that ID doctors have a photographic memory; they need one for the sheer amount of information they store in their brains. There are a lot of different types of doctors, and that’s a specialty that I have no interest in for that reason alone. Anyone who meets you would know how brilliant you are.”
“I guess so. My scores indicate otherwise.” She stares at her glass, her lips straightening out into a line.
Isabelle has always been sensitive about her perceived intelligence. And her parents assume she’s not cut out for academics when nothing could be further from the truth. It occurs to me that Weston would have thrown a fit when confronted with the possibility he wasn't the smartest person in the room, but Isabelle’s never once lashed out at me. The contrast is stark.
Then Jake flickers into my mind. I have a feeling he’d never react that way either.
Why didn't it ever occur to me that Weston’s reactions were off?
“Scores aren’t the whole story. You’re amazing,” I say out loud, attempting to refocus.
“Thanks,” Isabelle says.
With the finality in her tone, I figure she’d like to talk about something else. From past experience, I know I’m not going to change her mind, even though I wish I could. “You’re thinking Peds then?”
Iz nods, looking relieved at the subject change. “Yeah! I love being in the Children’s Hospital. It’s such a bright and happy place. Anyway, enough about me.” She lifts her glass. “To us,” she declares.
“This is exactly what I needed.” I take a long, refreshing sip. It’s delicious and perfectly chilled. But the panic that took hold of me in the ER resurfaces, and I almost choke on the liquid.
“Oh my goodness, Lucy, what’s wrong?” Iz’s eyes are immediately concerned.
I cough. “Oh, it just went down the wrong pipe.”
I pound my chest a little too vigorously and wave her off.
Will I ever be able to have a glass of wine in peace without Weston’s voice haranguing me about empty calories?
“Okay, well, once you recover yourself, stop asking me about my rotation, and tell me about this guy you just met.” Isabelle still looks worried.
“I…don’t know where to start.” I flush—the combination of the wine debacle and the reminder of Jake is overwhelming. Now that it’s time to talk about him, my words tangle in my mouth. How do I even begin trying to describe Jake and my immediate reaction to him? The moment I met him, my senses went into overdrive: my heart beating in triple time, my nerves firing from a mere handshake, and my belly fluttering as his gentle gray eyes assessed me.
Wait—why am I thinking about him like that? He’s a super nice guy, but ultimately only around to help me stave off Weston for good.
“I’m assuming he’s cute.” Iz winks, leaning back against the couch.
“He is,” I admit. “Not that it matters.”
