“Surprise!”
I jump at the roomful of people holding balloons and flowers. My eyes widen as they land on the cake Staci’s holding with too many candles to count.
She catches me cringe and rolls her eyes.
Everyone crowds around me, slapping me on the back. Tinsley enters the room too, just in time to sing “Happy Birthday,” along with the rest of the group.
Shaking my head, I blow out the candles.
“Very clever, very clever,” I say. “Thank you. You’re all assholes.”
People in scrubs and white coats clamor to get a piece of cake like it’ll disappear in two bites. We don’t get a lot of downtime around here, after all. There’s always a patient to check, an emergency to tend to, and we need to stay available and sharp.
So, eating quickly and in big bites is the best way to eat.
“Sorry.” Tinsley shrugs, two plates in her hands. The blue frosting matches the color of the spots on her leopard scrubs. “I’m going to take this to Patty before she has to get home.”
I nod, moving aside for her to pass. Shaking everyone’s hands like I would in a receiving line, I jokingly accept well wishes and a few apologies. Most of them know I don’t eat birthday cake. Not because I don’t like it, but because I’m lactose intolerant, and judging by the amount of frosting on that thing, I’m going to say it isn’t for me.
“I begged them not to,” Staci says, giving me a sisterly one-armed hug. “I told them to at least let me get a sugar cookie for you.”
“And what did Marco say? To buy it, but it’s coming out of your pocket, not his?”
We laugh at the hospital accountant’s rigidity.
I start to say something else but stop when I catch a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.
“Did I miss it? Shoot.” Clara stomps her foot in the doorway, a small succulent in her hands with a bow tied around the pot.
“Don’t worry. I took pictures of Dax’s eye roll just for you.” Staci wraps her in a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person, Clara.”
“You too. Please send me those pictures.” She peers over Staci’s shoulder at me with a twinkle in her eyes, while I stand in place, stunned.
“Gotta run to my next appointment. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Staci waves, then disappears.
I nod to her, then wrap my arms around Clara’s waist, breathing her in. “What’re you doing here? I figured you’d be unpacking all of Jacob’s toys for the foreseeable future.”
She giggles against my chest.
I pull back and study her. Same blond hair, although it’s a little darker than the bright sheen I remember. Same brown eyes. Same lean curves.
But she’s different.
She’s older and definitely no longer the little girl in braids that used to trade her sugar cookies with me at lunch because the chocolate chunk ones my mom packed made my “tummy hurt.”
“My dad sure knows how to spoil him. He’s been at the house all day playing with him, in between telling the movers how to do their jobs.” She rolls her eyes. “I had to come. I couldn’t miss your birthday.” She waves around the slowly emptying room. “Although I did miss the big surprise. Lost track of time, but I’m here now.”
I smile widely as a few people walk by and wish me well. She sets the plant down to accept cake from my coworkers, and we steal glances at each other. It’s like we’re back in Mr. Davis’s class and trying not to get caught for passing notes.
After a few more pleasantries and introductions are exchanged, I show Clara into my office, reveling in how familiar it feels to have her here, even though she’s never been to this hospital before.
In the last year, we’ve only seen each other in person twice. Once when she and Jacob came to close on the house. They were so busy with that, we basically managed a quick hug between signatures on mortgages.
The time before that, we saw each other under bleak circumstances.
“So, this is Dr. Pearson’s office…” There’s a gleam in her eye as she takes in my little corner of the world. A small, uncomfortable couch lines one wall, which makes my back automatically twinge.
She eyes the couch and raises her eyebrow. “Let me guess. This is where you sleep most nights.”
“No.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my white coat.
“No?”
“Not most nights. Some nights. Days. Mornings. Many times during the day, actually.” She thumps my forearm, then nudges me to the side. “What? Why not sleep here? Not like I have a family to go home to.”
“That’s because you’re unwilling to settle down with a nice girl and a dog, like I’ve been telling you for years.”
I pause, working my jaw back and forth. “Yes, well, that’s a nice theory and all, but you know even just a whiff of commitment gives me hives.”
“Continue sleeping on this very uncomfortable couch then.” She bounces on it and cringes. “I mean, what is this made of? Plastic hay?”
“Plastic hay? You’re close. It’s metal hay.”
She laughs, and the sound warms the cold room like hot water does a bath.
“Oh.” She stands and holds out the plant like she just remembered she’s holding it. “This is for you.”
“I was about to ask when in the hell you were going to give it to me.”
“You can thank me, instead. I fulfilled my promise, remember? I told you years ago that the first thing I’d do when you finished your fellowship is bring you a succulent…”
“…because it’s all I’m capable of caring for,” I finish with a mocking tone, then wave my hand up and down my white coat. “Even though—hello—I take care of people now, and that’s much more difficult.”
“Very true.” She takes in my office, scanning the few frames on the walls, the small bookcase by the door, and the window by my desk. “It’s crazy being in California again.
