Page 111 of Perfect Composition
When the car arrives, I barely notice the other passenger as I step on. That is, until a deep voice says, “You look like you’ve had as miserable a day as I have.”
I whirl around, startled. A man in a dress shirt and loosened tie has a small smile playing about his chiseled lips. Clinically, I’d label him as gorgeous, but as I’ve sworn off all men for the foreseeable future—as in forever—I give him a noncommittal “Hmm” before turning around and facing the elevator doors.
That doesn’t deter him. “Bryan Moser. Dr. Bryan Moser. Head of Neurosurgery and Neurology.”
I nod respectfully. “Doctor.”
“And you are?” His eyes probe mine just before he sticks out his hand for me to take.
“Dr. Paige Kensington, audiology specialist new to the Otolaryngology department.” I eye his hand but don’t reach for it. Hierarchical protocol dictates I should accept his outstretched fingers, the seemingly benign handshake. Instead, my eyes don’t leave his face as I continue to ignore his gesture before I fumble into my bag for my keys.
“New? And how do you like our lovely hospital?” His smile turns into an “I’m so irresistible” smirk.
Uncomfortable with him, with the situation, I clip out, “Well enough.”
He braces his arm on the elevator door, the move so blatant under normal circumstances, I’d likely roll my eyes.Oh, please.“Is that a Southern drawl I detect in your voice, Doctor?”
“Texas. Born and raised,” I reply shortly, shifting sideways in an effort to demonstrate my discomfort.
The elevator comes to a smooth stop, and Moser backs up. He places his thumb on the Door Closed button to prevent the doors from opening. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in grabbing a drink, would you, Paige?”
Counting to ten mentally in my head, I slip my house key between my index and middle finger. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“That’s a real pity…”
“You see, Dr. Moser, if you don’t release your finger from that button, I’m going to make you. And then, I’ll be filling a harassment charge in my first week. After all—” I gesture to the cameras in the elevator. “—my new-hire training indicated these are operable.”
His face flushes before he backs away. His finger lifts, and the doors begin to slide open. As soon as there’s enough clearance, I step out. Once I’m on the other side, I whirl around before grinding out, “Like you mentioned, Dr. Moser, I’ve had quite a miserable day. And that was a considerable way to cap it off.”
Someone in the crowd waiting to go up coughs to hide their laugh. Moser doesn’t say a word.
I scurry away, not feeling victorious. Not feeling anything. All I do with each step away from that debacle is sink into the void I mentioned to Austyn earlier.
By the time I make it to my car, I’m so submerged in it, I can no longer feel anything. Which is exactly what I need to experience. Nothing. After all, it’s better than feeling your heart breaking.
And I’ve had that happen twice as many times as I’ve needed to by the same man.
Listlessly, I shove food around my plate a few days later in the employees’ dining room at the hospital. I know I need fuel, but I can’t force myself to lift the fork and place it between my lips.
I’m just about to give up the farce and head back to my office when a tray is plunked down on the table across from me, startling me. So consumed by the loss of Beckett, by Austyn’s inability to appreciate my decision, I didn’t even notice someone approaching.
“Mind if I sit here?” a female voice chirps.
I must mumble something she takes as consent, because she drops into the chair across from me. “Dr. Alice Cleary.”
“Dr. Paige Kensington. I just transferred here from Texas.”
“Oh, I already knew that.” I quirk a brow. Alice begins to chuckle as she unwraps a sandwich. “You’ll learn quickly gossip makes its way around this building faster than the flu. And your little setback of Dr. Moser? Well, let’s just say there are quite a few members of the staff who’ve been trying to bribe Security for the footage.”
Thoroughly embarrassed, I grate out, “I’m thrilled to have boosted the staff’s morale. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my office.” I start to shove my chair back when Alice’s words have me freezing in my spot.
“I think you mistook me, Dr. Kensington—Paige, if I may? Certain members of the staff want to build a shrine to you. The man is a brilliant surgeon, but he’s someone to avoid.”
I don’t know what makes me say it, but maybe it’s her expression—completely guileless. “Right now, I feel that way about most men in general, so perhaps I was a bit harsh.”
Her eyes narrow. Something in them shifts imperceptibly. “That’s a fairly broad statement. I have some time if you’d care to discuss it? The hospital has programs for our staff…” She goes on to explain the mental welfare programs to alleviate stress in the doctors and nurses who work for the hospital while my eyes drop to the credentials pinned onto her lab coat.
I groan aloud. “Oh, hell. You’re a doctor of psychology?”
