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A man who would so easily walk away from her wasn’t worth her heartache and tears.
“Speaking of the devil,” she said, turning to let Charlie know she knew he was there. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. If she had her way, she’d never cry over him again. “Good afternoon, Dr. Keele.”
He grimaced at her formal use of his name.
Good. He deserved a little grimacing after all she’d gone through the night before and every moment since. But, seriously, what had he expected? A smile and, Glad to see you?
“I imagine you’re here to see Mr. Roberts. He’s in Room 336 and, although he’s still going in and out of atrial fibrillation, he’s otherwise stable on the IV medication since his admission this morning.”
All business. She could do it. She would do it.
No matter that he used to smile at her with his whole being and make her feel like the most precious person in the world.
No matter that two nights ago he’d kissed her all over and done crazily amazing things to her body and held her tightly afterwards.
No matter that his baby was nestled deep inside her body.
No matter that he’d utterly ripped her heart to shreds the night before, forever destroying her faith in him. In them.
No matter that she might just hate him for what he’d done.
He was leaving.
They were no longer a couple.
She no longer looked at him with rose-colored glasses.
He was a doctor. She was a nurse. She could play that game and keep things professional for as long as she had to.
She could hold her emotions in, keep her expression detached. He didn’t deserve to see her pain.
He’d be gone in two months and then letting him see her hurt would be the least of her worries.
* * *
This was how it had to be, Charlie reminded himself as he went to check on his patient.
But to look into the eyes of the woman he’d spent the past year of his life with and see nothing but cold disdain—that he hadn’t been prepared for.
He should have been. He’d known they were going to end the moment he’d told her he was leaving. He’d expected her anger. Maybe her yelling and screaming at him would have been easier than the look of disdain. He’d lived with both, growing up. The yelling, the screaming at how worthless he was, the looks of hatred.
Yet seeing that look on Savannah’s face gutted him.
He examined the unconscious man, checking the readouts on his telemetry, making note of adjustments he’d make to his care.
Hopefully, tomorrow they’d be able to decrease his sedation and start weaning him off his respiratory ventilator.
He heard someone enter the room behind him, but knew it wasn’t Savannah. She gave off a vibe that caused his insides to hum when she was near and he wasn’t humming. Not even the slightest little buzz.
“Do I need to reassign your patients?”
He turned to look at the nurse supervisor, then shook his head. “I’ll be here for two months and plan to take care of my patients during that time.”
She arched a brow at his obvious misunderstanding. “Savannah taking care of your patients won’t be a problem?”
“Not for me.” He put his stethoscope back in his scrub pocket, then got a squirt of antimicrobial solution. Almost methodically, he rubbed his hands until the wet solution dissipated. He tried to appear casual when he asked, “Did she ask to be reassigned?”
Chrissie shook her head. “She’d never do that. She’s way too professional, no matter what her personal feelings are.”
He met the woman’s gaze. “Then we shouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Chrissie didn’t back down. If anything, his stern look had her hiking up her chin to take advantage of every bit of her still short stature. “That’s probably true, but it’s my job to make sure everything goes smoothly on this unit. I don’t want any unforeseen problems cropping up and I’m taking a proactive approach to this potential situation.”
“As far as I’m concerned, there is no potential situation. I’ll be gone in two months.”
Her dark eyes narrowed but, rather than say anything negative, she surprised him by saying, “Congratulations on your new job. I hear it was a nice promotion.”
“Thank you. It was.”
She hesitated a moment, then looked him square in the eyes. “You’re sure that’s really what you want, though?”
He frowned. “Of course it is. It’s a very prestigious position.”
“Hard to have a conversation with a prestigious position over the dinner table.”
She thought he was a fool for accepting the greatest career opportunity he’d been presented with because of Savannah. Let her think that. He didn’t care what she thought—what anyone thought. He knew he’d made the right decision. That he was doing what was best for Savannah by destroying her feelings for him.
Feigning that her look of pity didn’t faze him, he shrugged. “I won’t be lonely.”
She gave him a disappointed look. “No, I don’t imagine you will. Congrats again, Dr. Keele. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for in Nashville.”
“I’m not looking for anything in Nashville,” he told her retreating back. He wasn’t looking for anything anywhere.
Charlie grabbed hold of the bed rail and stared down at his unconscious patient for long moments.
Taking the Nashville job had been the right thing for all involved.
What hadn’t been the right thing had been getting so involved with someone. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
That might not be a problem anytime in the near future anyway. The thought of anyone other than Savannah just didn’t appeal.
How was any other woman supposed to compare to the way she lit up a room just by walking into it? To the way her smile reached her eyes and he knew what she was thinking without her saying a word? How she enjoyed the same things he did, shared his love of Civil War history and taking long hikes up on Lookout Mountain on the battlefield? To running with him at dawn along the Tennessee River near her apartment?
The reality was no woman ever had measured up to Savannah and he suspected they never would. The thought of sharing his days, his nights, with anyone other than her left him cold.
She was perfect and he wanted her to stay that way.
Leaving was the best thing he could do for all involved.
CHAPTER THREE (#ube700346-bfb4-544f-88a0-7de8bca06a99)
“CODE BLUE. CODE BLUE.”
Savannah rushed to the patient’s room. Her patient had just flatlined.
She’d been in the bathroom when the call came over the intercom.
She hated that, but her bladder didn’t hold out the way it used to. A symptom of her pregnancy, she supposed.
Chrissie was in the room performing CPR when Savannah got there with the crash cart. The man was on a ventilator so she was only performing chest compressions and the machine breathed for him, giving him oxygen.
Charlie rushed in right behind Savannah. A unit secretary was there acting as a recorder of all the events of the code.
“Give him some epi,” Charlie ordered, taking charge of the code, as was his position.
Savannah did so, then prepared the defibrillator machine, attached the leads to the man’s chest.
“All clear,” Charlie ordered and everyone stepped away from the man.
Savannah pushed the button to activate the defibrillator.
The man’s body gave a jerk and his heart did a few abnormal beats.
“Let me know the second it’s recharged,” Charlie ordered, having taken over the chest compressions for Chrissie.
“Now,” Savannah told him.
“All clear,” he warned.
As soon as everyone had stepped back, Savannah hit the button, sending another electrical shock through the man’s body.
His heart did a wild beat then jumped back into a beating rhythm. Not a normal one, but one that would sustain life for the moment.
“I’m going to take him into the cardiac lab. He needs an ablation of the abnormal AV node, a pacemaker, and a permanent defibrillator put in STAT.”
“Yes, sir.”
By this time, other staff had entered the room and a transport guy and Savannah wheeled the patient toward the cardiac lab, Charlie beside them.
Chrissie called the lab, told them of the emergency situation and that Dr. Keele was on his way with his patient.
Savannah helped to get the patient settled in the surgical lab, then turned to go.
“Savannah?”
Slowly, she turned toward Charlie, met eyes she’d once loved looking into. Now, she just wanted him to hurry up and leave.
He searched her face for something, but she couldn’t be sure what, just that his expression looked filled with regret. That she understood. She had regrets. Dozens of them. Hundreds. All centering around him.
She’d been so stupid.
“You did a great job back there,” he finally said, although his words fell flat.
She swallowed back the nausea rising in her throat and wanted to scream. They were broken up. He shouldn’t be being nice. And if he said, Let’s just be friends, it might be him needing resuscitation because she might just choke him out.
Rather than answer, she gave him a squint-eyed glare, then turned to go.
When she got outside the lab, she leaned against the cold concrete wall and fought crumbling. Fought throwing up. Fought curling into a fetal position and letting loose the pain inside her.
Two months.
She could do anything for two months.
Only, really, wasn’t she just fooling herself every time she thought two months?
Wasn’t she really looking at the rest of her life because, with the baby growing inside her, she’d have a permanent connection to Charlie?
A permanent connection she’d been so happy about, but now—now she wasn’t sure. How could she be happy about a baby when the father didn’t want her?
Would he want their child?
When was she supposed to tell him? Before he left? After he left? Before the baby got here? After the baby got here?
Never?
He’d find out. They shared too many friends. Nashville wasn’t that far away. Not telling him wasn’t an option, even if she could keep the news from him. She couldn’t live with that secret. On the off chance that he would want a relationship with their child, she had to tell him.
Would he think she’d purposely tried to trap him into staying? See her news as her trying to manipulate him? Would he understand that she didn’t want him to stay because she was pregnant when he hadn’t been willing to stay for her? That he’d destroyed the magic that had been between them forever?
She lightly banged her head against the concrete wall.
What was she going to do?
* * *
A month later, Charlie shifted the box of Savannah’s belongings to where he could free up a hand to knock on her apartment door.
And stood there, frozen.
Why wasn’t he knocking?
Why was he just standing outside her apartment like some kind of crazy man?
He was crazy.
She’d texted him earlier that day and asked what he wanted her to do with his things. He couldn’t really recall what he had at her place, other than his running gear and ear buds and maybe a few odds and ends, some clothes. Maybe, instead of saying he’d stop by and pick up his things, he should have told her to just keep it all.
But that still left him with having to deal with her belongings. She’d had some toiletries in his bathroom and some clothes that he’d boxed up. So, tonight, he’d kill two birds with one stone. Or something like that. Because he’d stripped his place of all physical reminders of Savannah and taped them inside the box. Out of sight, out of mind.
