Page 117 of Broken Dream
“He’s my anatomy lab professor,” Angie says.
Shoot me. Just shoot me now. HIPAA be damned. It’s clear I was meeting with Dr. Steel, and Dr. Steel is a renowned psychiatrist.
Yeah, shoot me now.
“Nice to see you, Angie,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.
“You too, Dr. Lansing,” Angie says, her voice trembling just a touch.
“Dr. Lansing and I were just discussing some hospital board business,” Dr. Steel says.
Nice save.
Problem is that no one’s going to believe it.
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Lansing.” She offers me her hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
Normally in this situation, I’d reject her handshake. But since Angie’s right there, I take her hand weakly. “I appreciate it. I think we can get this all settled.”
“I’m sure we can.”
I nod to her and Angie, and then I walk down the hallway toward the elevator.
What a mess.
I’ve been living in a hole for so long.
Grieving my daughter, grieving my wife. Grief never goes away, but it does get easier to handle.
Mostly I’m angry.
Angry that the two most important people in my life were taken away from me, along with my ability to do my chosen profession.
And damn it, I was a good surgeon. I was a fucking amazing surgeon.
Now, after three years, two things have happened that made me happy.
First, Dr. Matthews and Dr. Patel gave me hope. Hope with this experimental surgery that could restore the function in my right hand.
And second, I met a woman. A woman who made me believe there is life after Lindsay. A woman who made me want to love again.
The problem? She’s my student, and her aunt, a renowned psychiatrist, is the one trying to block me from my potentially career-saving surgery.
The Lord giveth and the Lord fucking taketh away.
I look up at the ceiling just as the elevator dings and the doors open.
Is the universe laughing at me?
Dangling a carrot in front of me?
Because there are two things right now that I want more than anything.
Angie and the surgery.
And the universe seems to have decided that I can’t have either.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
