Page 37 of Doctor Mile High
“Hold on one second, Olivia.” I place the phone against my shoulder and march out the door.
Glancing left and right to see no doctor in a fucking hurry, I lose the rest of the patience that has been holding by a thread.
“Can someone give me a fucking update on my damn fiancée and newborn son? Anyone!” I bellow down the hall so loud that every single head that’s lost in a medical chart or computer whips up to stare at me.
“Anyone? Can anyone fucking help me? Do I need to get privileges from this hospital myself in order to get answers? I’m Dr. Winston Warrick, of the Warrick Group, and chief of surgery at Warrick General Hospital. I assume all of you know who the fuck I am,” I growl in a threatening manner. “I’m not above being unprofessional. I will consolidate this hospital until it is nothing but empty space if someone doesn’t give me an update. What kind of doctors work here!” My chest is heaving from how much energy I’ve exerted, shouting at people I don’t know.
That’s unlike me.
I’m usually composed, kind, and understanding to a fault, but all the good qualities about me have flown out the window. I’m just a man needing an update on how his family is doing. I’m another human worried about my loved ones. And no one has given me any answers since I’ve arrived. I would never run my hospital like this. I have nurses give family updates every hour, so they aren’t in the waiting room worried and driving themselves insane with horrible conclusions and anxiety.
“Hello? Hello!” Olivia yells into the phone. “What is going on over there?”
Her voice reminds me that I’m not alone. She heard everything I just said.
Placing the phone against my ear, I sigh. “Sorry about that. No one has given me an update.”
“I know what that’s like,” she snarks. “But who’s your fiancée? I don’t believe I’ve met her? Your newborn? What’s going on, Dr. Warrick?”
“I’m sorry, Olivia.” I sigh, my expensive Italian leather loafers scuffing against the ground as I drag my exhausted body to the recliner settled in the corner. I sit down and stretch my neck left, then right until it cracks, and I groan in relief. “It’s been a long day.”
“I’m booking a flight there. I already reserved myself a room when I made the hotel accommodations—just in case, don’t be mad. I think you might need me with everything going on. Start from the beginning.”
I’m not going to argue with her. It would be great to have my personal assistant here. She could help out so much so I can focus on Dove and my son.
“Well, you aren’t going to believe this, but Dove, the woman I’ve been looking for? She was on the plane, and she was eight months pregnant. What’s crazy, Olivia, is that she was at the hospital the day before the flight. I knew it was her and I tried to bribe Dr. Leighton to give me information, but she wouldn’t, of course. She shouldn’t. That was wrong of me.”
“Wait. Dove was here? At Warrick General? She’s been in the city this entire time?” Olivia screeches with excitement.
“Seems like it. She’s been so close the entire time. In a city so big, it’s no wonder I couldn’t find her, not even with that useless private investigator I hired.”
A small beat of silence passes.
“And the baby? Is it yours?” she asks with trepidation, as if she isn’t sure if she’s allowed to ask.
I lean forward in the recliner, my eyes locked on the doorway, waiting for fucking anyone to come through.
“I don’t know. I think so? I don’t want to assume, but the timing makes sense with how far along she was. If so, I delivered my son on the airplane, but he was an entire month early, and I’ve gotten no updates!” I shout loud enough for anyone in the hallway to hear me. “Remind me to investigate this hospital, Olivia. I dislike it.”
“Dr. Warrick, do you dislike it or are you a terrified human waiting for updates? Think about all of your patients. They’ve probably thought the same things you’re thinking of.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “No, I haven’t gotten one update, Olivia. Not one. At Warrick General, patients get updates. They aren’t waiting around.”
A knock on the door has me lift my head. A nurse in light-pink scrubs has a bright smile on her face, pushing a bassinet. “I have a little one here wanting his father,” she greets.
“Olivia. I got to go.” I don’t give her time to say another word. I hang up the phone, uncaring if she wasn’t done speaking.
My son is here.
I set my phone on the table and stand, suddenly feeling emotional as I step forward. “Is he okay? Is he healthy? Any defects? Health issues that I need to be aware of?”
“No, Dr. Warrick,” she says with a knowing lift to her eyebrows. She must have heard me shout a few minutes ago. “He’s perfectly healthy. He passed all of our tests. He weighs sevenpounds on the dot. Do you want to hold him?” The nurse dips her arms in the bassinet, gathering my son who’s wrapped in a light-blue blanket.
I rush to the hand sanitizer dispenser, rubbing the cooling gel over my hands and down to my elbows. “Yes, I do. Please. And I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I understand how patients feel now.”
“It’s no trouble at all. And once our own chief of surgery heard you were here, he made sure you got the answers you were wanting, Dr. Warrick. We had no idea who you were at first. We apologize.”
I stare at my son, still so pink and fresh. I bring him to my face and inhale, wanting that baby scent that’s so addicting. “He’s perfect,” I whisper, tilting my head up to blink away the tears. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” I lift my shoulder to wipe my eyes. “His mom? How is Dove doing?”
