Page 2 of Not Like Christmas At All
“Oh, nothing,” I singsong as we enter her room. “I’m just going to miss you. That’s all.”
“I’m going to miss you too, Nurse Gen.”
This—this moment right here, knowing Mirabelle is on the road to a complete recovery and being discharged just in time to spend one of the most joyous times of the year with her family, is why I worked myself to the bone by pulling long days in nursing school, just to spend even longer hours at the hospital. Knowing I’ve done everything I can to care for this sweet girl brings me the greatest sense of peace and fulfillment.
When I started at the hospital, I was fresh-faced, doe-eyed, and excited for a new start.
My first day went off without a hitch, followed by my first week, but then a few days afterthat, the universe decided it was time for my luck to run out.
Late for my shift, I practically levitated through the hospital to get to a patient's room, only to turn a sharp corner and run directly intohim.
Doctor Lincoln Stokes.
Surgeon.
Tall.
Handsome.
Respected.
Blond.
And I know what you’re thinking. Blond? No way blonds are?—
Stop it.
One look at him and you’ll be ripping your panties from your body and slingshotting them just so he has something that belongs to you.
This is probably the part of the story where I should tell you a teensy, weensy, little problem with my good ol’ pal Lincoln, though.
He hates me.
Okay, maybe hate is too strong of a word, but he certainly isn’t my biggest fan.
You see, my best friend is dating his cousin, and while you may be thinking,Genesis, that’s a good thing!
No, it’s not.
No, it’snot.
Because now, instead of seeing him in the hospital hierarchy as someone I need to be on my best behavior around, I take every opportunity I can just to mess with him. Hence the paging Doctor Hottie prank.
That may have been Mirabelle’s idea…kind of.
Part of it.
Anyway, shockingly, Lincoln hasn’t gotten me transferred—or fired—yet.
Yet.
I suspect it’ll be coming at some point though, but it’ll be a Christmas miracle if it doesn’t.
An overly dramatic huff of annoyance sounds from my left, along with the squeak of tennis shoes hitting the shining linoleum floor of the cafeteria as the owner of said huff and shoes draws near.
When the scolding leaves his lips, the gruff tone pierces the quiet. “Those announcements were extremely inappropriate, Nurse Nikolaou.” With his arms crossed over his chest, Linc—Doctor Stokes, since evidently we're being professional right now—comes to a stop next to my table with a scowl on his face.
I flip the page in my home decor magazine,Flawless Design, not giving him the attention I know he’s waiting for. Pretty sure this issue is from six years ago, but I liked the Christmas tree on the front of it and figured it was worth the flip. Plus, I had a feeling he’d come find me.
