Page 10 of Careless Whisper (Modern Vintage Romances #11)

I gazed at her across the table and realized I didn’t want to be the man she respected. I wanted to do better.

So, I started on that journey the following day when Reggie was assigned to my OR.

Cindy mentioned it casually in the hall. “She’s on the rotation. Unless you want me to change it.”

I didn’t, and I told her as much.

The procedure was a Bentall, a complex open-heart surgery involving valve and aortic root replacement.

Reggie arrived early, which I had learned she always did.

She didn’t look at me as she checked instruments, confirmed tray counts, and adjusted the overhead lights. She moved through the prep like it was a dance she’d choreographed herself.

She was in navy blue scrubs, no makeup, and her hair was pulled back tight under a bandana. She looked unbothered and untouchable.

Beautiful.

We scrubbed in together in silence. She didn’t speak. I didn’t either .

Once in the OR, it was like watching a masterclass.

She knew exactly what I needed before I asked for it.

Passed clamps with zero hesitation.

Managed the perfusion team with two clipped instructions and a glance.

Anticipated every instrument.

Handed me the valve before I asked for it.

Not a single wasted movement.

My second-year fellow dropped a suture, and Reggie caught it mid-air before it hit the sterile field.

“Nice catch,” one of the residents crooned.

She didn’t say anything; just moved on.

God , she was good, insanely better than Delaney, and I’d wasted weeks without her assistance.

We closed smoothly, without complication.

I stepped out of the OR and peeled off my gloves. The surgery had gone perfectly. The rhythm had been there, and that’s when it struck me; it was like the old times. Even then as a novice, Reggie had had this composure and professionalism about her.

I had to let go of the past, I decided. Completely. I needed to move on.

It was after ten when I left the hospital and spotted Reggie across the garage, keys already in hand, a tired grace in the way she moved—shoulders back, head high.

I caught up to her just as she reached her car.

“Reggie,” I called out .

She paused and then turned to face me. “Yes, Dr. Graham.”

“I just wanted to say good work today.” This was how I treated other nurses, and I was going to do the same with Reggie.

If I thought she’d be on her knees, thanking me for patting her shoulder, I’d been wrong. Very wrong.

The corners of her mouth dipped almost imperceptibly. “You sound surprised.”

Damn, the stubborn woman!

And why did the way she stood up to me make me hard?

“I’m not surprised, Reggie. I just wanted to tell you that you were good today.”

She nodded once and beeped open her car door. “Thank you, Dr. Graham.”

“Ah…I have more to say.”

It was time, I knew, to let her off the hook for a mistake she made as a kid. This Reggie wasn’t that woman, the one who’d sobbed orgasms while I took her.

I was glad that I had a coat on, or she’d be able to see my boner, and that would be fucking embarrassing.

“Yes?” She opened her car door and looked at me with impatience.

“I’ve been thinking.” I stepped closer to her. “About Boston. About what happened. You were young. You made a mistake. I’ve made mistakes, too. I think it’s time I let it go. ”

She stared at me for a beat. Then two. And then she spoke, her words laced with fury. “You think I made a mistake?”

“You know what you did and?—"

She laughed, low and dry, without humor.

“ Dios mio ,” she exclaimed. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Reggie—” I growled.

“ No ,” she snapped, fury etched on her face. I took a step back from her.

She held up a finger and pointed it at me.

“ You stood in front of the hospital board and let her lie. You believed her . You let me drown; hell, you made sure I did by putting your foot on my neck. And you think now, after you’ve humiliated me again in my new place of work, that this half-assed attempt at forgiveness means anything? ”

I felt heat rise up my neck. “I’m trying?—”

“Stop,” she cut me off sharply. “ Don’t try! Don’t reframe. And don’t you dare act as if I owe you gratitude for deciding to forgive me for something I didn’t even do.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Here I thought she’d grown up, but she was still an immature moron.

No, I was the moron who thought we could have a civil conversation about the past.

“Go fuck your arrogant self, Dr. Graham.”

She got in her car and slammed the door. But before she drove off, she rolled down the window and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Oh, and you may want to ask your fiancée why her name disappeared from the Armitage grant after the abstract was accepted.”

She drove off and I was left standing in the garage, blinking under the buzz of fluorescent lights, feeling completely confused.

First things first, how the fuck did she know about the Armitage grant and that Maren had been pulled from it? Maren told me about it. She’d had some delays in submitting data and she’d lost the grant, which was why she was chasing this new one like her life depended upon it.

Second, why the fuck did Reggie think Maren was my fiancée?