Page 26 of Sick of You

His smile was compact but kind. “Dr. Croft was lead author on that paper.”

Good for her. “Also, we’ll probably be making recommendations internally that might be hard for people to accept. If they came from two assistant directors, they would certainly carry more weight than if from just an assistant director and a fellow.”

Dr. Donaldson’s eyebrows lifted slightly, the closest it seemed I would get to an acknowledgement from him.

He definitely seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t make a split-second decision and wouldn’t appreciate being pushed that way. “Thanks for hearing me out,” I said. “I’ll give you some time to think it over—but we need to get moving on this quickly. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about the effect of time on antimicrobial resistance.”

Dr. Donaldson’s acknowledging nod was almost a bow from the neck, so I took that as my cue to leave. Passing through the department, I definitely didn’t crane my neck to see if I could catch a glimpse of Dr. Croft. Obviously I was the last person on earth she wanted to see.

With any luck, I’d just greatly reduced the likelihood of our ever having to see one another again.

Didn’t feel all that lucky, though.

Luckily, I woke up feeling much better the day after my donut disaster. Physically, anyway.

After another attempt on our morning run, I still hadn’t been able to convince Natalie that Davis was actually a cross between Jeff Bezos and Al from Al’s Toy Barn—which was perhaps a slight exaggeration—but I vowed to try again after work, with better examples.

I was not expecting him to add quite so much evidence to my dossier, though.

I arrived at work before I remembered a.) Dr. Donaldson had texted me last night, b.) I had never replied, and c.) the contents of the message. Including, most of all, that he called me Cassidy and asked me to do this for him.

Fortunately, a hazmat suit and a hood made conversation difficult, and after checking in with my patients, I spent the day poring over various samples and documentation and coding the results.

Once I was sure Dr. Donaldson must have finished lunch, I stripped free of the hazmat suit—nobody wanted to spend any longer in the one-person sauna than they had to—and scrubbed up to get my own food. My luck had obviously run out, though, because as I left the lab, Dr. Donaldson entered the hallway, bearing a Delivrd-branded bag. “Oh, just the person I wanted to see,” he said.

I smiled. At least he didn’t seem annoyed with me for not having responded. “Afternoon.”

He held up the Delivrd bag. “Do you like Red Poke Express? I got extra.”

He probably knew that I did indeed like Red Poke Express. I wasn’t sure at all what it meant that two men—two men I was working with—both bought food for me within twenty-four hours of one another.

No, I was reading too much into it. Dinner was definitely not a date with Davis.

Dr. Donaldson knew this wasn’t a date. Didn’t he?

I gestured for Dr. Donaldson to lead the way into the break room. Delaying my own lunch this long meant that we were the only ones in here.

With Dr. Donaldson, I didn’t have to worry about another incident like last night, though. No matter what Davis said.

Dr. Donaldson handed me a rainbow bowl, my favorite. He was observant and a good boss. It didn’t mean he saw me as anything more than a fellow. Mentee. Underling, really. Even Davis was probably nice to the people he outranked in his department.

I found myself staring at the spot where we’d stood last night and turned back to open my poke bowl. The fish was tender, the vegetables just the right crispness, pineapple and ginger shoyu adding a sweet tang. One nice thing about eating with Dr. Donaldson was that he left you alone while you were enjoying your food.

I was nearly done when he broke the silence. “Have you given the task force any thought?”

Good thing he couldn’t see what I was remembering. “I really don’t know,” I finally managed. “I do appreciate all that you’ve done to create this opportunity.”

“Do you not want to work with Mr. Hardcastle?”

I nodded. Working closely with him would be unwise in so many ways.

“Obviously, I think this is a great opportunity for you.”

I debated thanking him again but took another bite of rice and fish instead.

“But,” Dr. Donaldson continued, “I understand if you prefer not to work with him.”

“Does Urban Health have someone else for the task force?” I didn’t bother hiding the hope rising in my voice.

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