“Someone will,” she says with a shrug. “Either way, I won’t be here.”

I blow out a breath, trying to keep my irritation under control. Has this always been Maria’s work ethic?

If so, I wouldn’t have known. She’s an orthopedic surgeon, so I never would have been asked to cover for her.

I make a mental note to ask Mick about it later.

“If we can’t find someone to take your surgeries, you’ll have to stay.”

She scowls. “No, if no one takes them, we will reschedule them. This isn’t heart surgery, no one will die if they have to wait a week.”

“Maria, some of the people on your schedule have been there for months. You can’t just move them around because you want to go away for the weekend. They have schedules and lives, too.”

“Well, I’m the one doing the surgery, so I make the rules.”

“Actually, no. I make the rules, and I’m telling you that if I can’t find a replacement for those days, and you don’t show up, you’ll be fired.”

Her eyes flare with temper. “I’ll sue you so fast your head will spin.”

“Do it,” I challenge her. “The policy is written in your contract.”

She presses her lips together, knowing that she’s been outsmarted. She narrows her eyes. “So, how’s your girlfriend?”

“My fiancée is fine, thank you.”

This makes her tilt her head in surprise. She watches me with calculation.

“Jace, this is silly.” She stands and paces my office, then walks to where I’m sitting behind my desk and drags her fingers along my shoulders, making my skin crawl. “You know we can work this out. I’ll do just about anything to have those days off.”

“Surely, you’re not implying that I would give you the time off in exchange for fucking you.”

Her brown eyes turn cold. “Why not?”

I grab her hand and push it away from me. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me. I told you before, this isn’t going to happen. If you touch me again or make another offer like the one you just did, I’ll file a sexual harassment suit.”

She snorts out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Who’s going to believe that I’m the one harassing you? Maybe you raped me.”

“You’re fired,” Mick says from the doorway of my office, his nostrils flaring with rage. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my hospital.”

“Dr. Leamon,” she says, blinking rapidly and shaking her head. “You misunderstood, Jace and I were just joking around.”

“I heard the whole conversation,” he says. “And threatening the chief of surgery is grounds for dismissal. No second chances.”

“I need this job.”

“You should have thought of that before.” He dismisses her with a flick of the wrist. “Now leave, before I have you removed.”

She stomps out of my office and slams the door behind her. I sigh deeply.

“If you fuck another doctor on staff, you’ll be fired, as well,” he says.

I cringe. “It was before I was chief. Way before. She wouldn’t let it go.”

“I’m not kidding,” he says.

“I’m engaged, and happily, it’s not with another physician on staff,” I inform him.

“That’s concerning, as well,” he replies. “We talked about this when you were appointed chief.”

“I know. And I’ll make it work.”

He narrows his eyes at me.

“You’re married,” I remind him.

“And it was a miracle that I didn’t get divorced,” he retorts. “It’s a miracle she didn’t throw me out on my ass. I was never home, Jace. For years. You sacrifice a lot for this job.”

“I can make it work,” I insist again. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it’ll be worth it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, watching me through his glasses. “I’ll be checking in with you to make sure you’re not burning out.”

I’m already burning out.

But I just smile and nod. “So noted. What did you come in here for?” I ask before he can walk out the door.

“Just checking in, and I’m glad I did. Now we need to get to work finding a new orthopedic surgeon.”

“Great,” I mutter after he leaves. “One more thing to do.”

I pick up my phone and dial Joy’s number, but it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, baby,” I say into the phone. “I know I’ve been bad at communication this week. And, well, every week. I was just thinking about you and wanted to say hi. I hope you’re having a good day. Love you.”

I hang up and sigh.

I miss her.

~Joy~

“I can’t even wear my engagement ring,” I say to my doctor. “My fingers are too swollen. I’ve been nauseated off and on for more than a month.”

“And you’re just now coming to see me?” she asks with a scowl.

“The flu has made the rounds through my clinic, and I assume I’m still getting over that.”

“Not a month later,” she says, shaking her head. “Are you dizzy?”

“No.”

“Diarrhea?”

“Thankfully, no. I am achy. Especially in my hips.”

She looks up at me and narrows her eyes. “First things first, I’m going to have you pee in a cup. We’ll take a look at things, and then if I think we need a blood test, we’ll do that. I have a hunch on something.”

“On what?”

“Just pee in the cup, and I’ll be back in a few. The bathroom is around the corner.”

She takes her laptop out of the room, points at the bathroom, and leaves me to my own devices.

I finally had to break down and come to the doctor. My hips are killing me. I can’t lay on my back at all anymore, and I am constantly shifting in my sleep, trying to find a comfortable position.

The nausea comes in waves now. Some days, I’m completely fine. Other days, I can’t keep anything down.

It’s ridiculously frustrating.

I do my business, write my name on the cup, and put it in the mysterious two-sided door, then wash my hands and return to the exam room.

Less than ten minutes later, Dr. Nixon returns with a smile on her pretty face.

“It’s just as I suspected.”

“I have malaria.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, you’re pregnant.”

I blink at her, sure I’ve misheard her.

“I have the flu?”

“Pregnant,” she repeats, enunciating each syllable. “You, my friend, are going to have a baby.”

I squint my eyes at her, blinking as if I don’t understand the words coming out of her mouth. “A baby.”

“A baby,” she confirms with a nod. “Now, let’s do an ultrasound and find out how far along you are.”

“An ultrasound.”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I think I am because I am not having a baby.”

“Your pregnancy test was positive,” she says gently. “I take it you’ve not been trying to get pregnant.”

“Well, now that I think about it, I haven’t been trying not to get pregnant. We were great about protection in the beginning and then it just sort of fizzled out. I’m a horrible person.”

“Is he in the picture for the long haul?”

I hold up my hand, then remember that I can’t wear my ring right now because of my fat sausage fingers. “Yes. He proposed a month ago.”

“Well, congratulations,” she says as her nurse rolls an ultrasound machine into the room. I remove my pants, not shy enough to need them to leave the room, and lie back on the table, my feet in the stirrups.

This is a vaginal ultrasound, so it’s not particularly comfortable, but with some maneuvering, Dr. Nixon smiles and points to a black blob on the screen. “There it is.”

“It’s tiny.”

“I’d say you’re about eight weeks along.”