Page 4 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

Chapter four

Lucy

As soon as Isabelle sees me, a sweet smile crosses her face as she adjusts her chunky glasses.

“Luce, you look fabulous, darlin’,” she says with her lilting Southern drawl, looking elegant in a conservative navy sheath dress.

She’s practically Southern royalty in Georgia; her father is the Chief of Surgery at Peachtree Medical Hospital.

Iz’s long, shiny brown hair frames her face in perfect layers, a departure from her typical straight cut. She must have gotten it styled recently; my heart twinges at the reminder that I’ve missed so much.

“You too,” I say, the sight of her filling me with a combination of relief and happiness. “It’s so good to see you.”

Maybe I should just relax—I’ve merely forgotten how fun it is to be with my friends.

But then Zoe, a small but fiery package of intensity, approaches me in a green, sequined mini dress that fits her like a glove, her red, voluminous curls cascading down her shoulders. She gives me a quick, perfunctory hug then brushes past to embrace Amelia more warmly.

My stomach knots. Annnnd…maybe this was as big of a mistake as I was expecting.

I’m not sure Zoe will ever forgive me for dropping them all like hot potatoes once I started dating Weston.

She would never have gotten into a relationship like that.

She is confident, brash, and unapologetically her—what you see is what you get.

My life would have followed a different trajectory if I took that approach.

Amelia finishes greeting Zoe and Iz with hugs to each. “Shall we?”

Unsurprisingly, Amelia made the reservations for our get-together; at least that’s a dynamic that hasn’t changed .

I’ve always loved how Dessert Debauchery looks at night, a dramatic transformation from its daytime cheery alter-ego, Bakery Bonanza.

While it’s unassuming from the front, with just a touch of greenery winding on either side of the wooden door, once you enter, it’s a fairyland of gleaming lights.

There are strings of lights spiraling up each of the white columns and hanging in loops from the ceiling.

Circular glass high-top tables with accompanying stools fill the center of the bar, while booths line the walls.

Each of the tables has a single lit candle.

This romantic fantasy-type setting hints at a happily-ever-after ending that seems to evade me.

I’m just glad I’ve never come here with Weston—my memories of this place are Weston-free.

We follow the hostess, who gestures at a table near the back and hands each of us a calligraphy-inscribed drink menu.

“It’s so nice to get out,” Zoe declares, her eyes slipping by me. “Third year was a bitch.”

“Lord have mercy,” Iz says, sighing. “Glad it’s over.”

Right then, a server appears with a basket of steaming cinnamon rolls, the bar’s signature side. “Hey there,” she says with a smile. “Do you gals know what you’re having?”

Amelia rattles off our first drink order.

I’ve always thought our drink choices matched our personalities.

A cosmo for me because despite my restrictions in the past, I love fashion; a mojito for Zoe, to match her hint of spice; a lemon drop for Iz, for her ultimate sweetness; and a glass of cab for Amelia, which reflects her class and elegance.

We usually save the fancy dessert drinks for our second drink.

Ordering more than one of the fancy cocktails gets a bit cost-prohibitive.

That said, I haven’t had a cosmo in a really long time because of the empty calories. I figure I’ll just skip the dessert drink.

After the hostess vanishes, Zoe says, “Brad’s on my rotation this month.”

Both Amelia and Iz immediately groan in sympathy, while my gaze ping-pongs between all three of them. I have no idea what they’re talking about.

“What did he do this time?” Iz asks.

“Let me guess,” Amelia pipes in. “He cut in front of you again.”

Dread trickles through me; the three of them have moved on, developing their own narrative without me.

“How did you guess?” Zoe rolls her eyes. “I was just about to get assigned a really juicy surgery case, too.”

Iz shakes her head disgustedly. “How does he get away with that?”

“Just keep your head down,” Amelia says. “Eventually that’s going to bite him in the ass. Bad behavior like that always catches up with you one day.”

The words burst out of me before I can take them back. “What happened with Brad?”

There’s silence from the other three girls. Why did I make it painfully clear that I’m not part of the camaraderie they’ve built up for the past year? What about faking it until you make it? Foot, meet mouth .

“He’s just been a pain all year, especially on our Surgery block, since he wants to become a trauma surgeon,” Amelia quickly inserts before I completely unravel. “Sucking up to residents, answering questions not directed to him, snagging OR cases that other students were going to be assigned.”

“And on non-surgical rotations, his lack of enthusiasm couldn’t be more clear,” Isabelle adds. “He was on my pediatrics rotation, and he barely paid attention because it wasn’t surgery.”

I feel totally out of place, and I have an overwhelming urge to hide in the bathroom for the next hour or two. Maybe I can get a “phone call” and slip out early.

“Have you selected a specialty yet, Lucy?” Isabelle says, probably attempting to save me, but instead highlighting my separateness, since this is something they should already know.

And I’m unsure as to what Iz and Zoe are planning to specialize in; I only know Amelia is going into Rheumatology because she’s known that since she started medical school.

“I’m between Derm and ER,” I say, my fingers tracing the stem of my glass.

The girls stare at me. Oh boy. I forgot I’ve not breathed a word to any of them about Dermatology.

“Since when have you been interested in Derm?” Zoe demands.

It figures that this would be the thing to break her silence: she clearly disapproves and can never resist stating her opinion.

But then, I’m startled to realize she isn’t wrong.

Do I even like anything about Derm? Now that I have the space to think about it, I’m not sure that dealing with acne and skin cancer for the rest of my life is my calling.

“I’m doing rotations in both Derm and ER over the next two months to help me decide,” I say out loud.

“I don’t see you in Derm, although your facial care is superb,” Iz says diplomatically. “I reckon you’d get bored.”

I suppress a grin. Oh Iz. I can always count on her to bring levity back to the conversation. But she’s right—the fast-paced nature of the ER does fit my personality.

At that moment, the waitress arrives with our drinks, and I think I’m saved from discussing this subject any further.

But after taking a sip of her mojito, Zoe continues her full-court press. “Is this a Weston thing?”

Part of me just wants to shut down, but instead, I take a beat to think about this. My interest in Derm is mostly Weston-driven. He wanted me to have a high-paying job but otherwise be home for our future kids, since he was going to be working most of the time.

How much of my life has Weston dictated?

“Maybe?” I say, finally.

Zoe scowls. “What was his plan? For you guys to couples match in Derm and Ortho? Is he nuts?”

Strangely, a pulse of warmth spreads inside my chest at her protective tone. Maybe I still have a chance to repair what I’ve broken between us .

And then I wince when I remember Weston not only directed my specialty decision, but he also compiled the places where we would apply for residency.

Zoe takes my expression as a yes. “Jesus, Luce. There’s no way.”

Iz and Amelia have similar shocked expressions.

“He does realize that he may not match in Ortho by himself , right?” Amelia shakes her head. “If I remember correctly, his grades are not exactly stellar. How did he think you guys had any chance matching together ? You’d have been completely screwed.”

How did Weston think this was going to play out?

With clearer vision, I’m realizing the girls are right.

Matching alone would have been hard enough in Derm and Ortho.

Add being part of a couple into the mix, and our chances of matching would be close to zero.

Even though I’m an excellent candidate by myself, Weston would have dragged me down, and I might not have even matched at all.

I’m feeling overwhelmed by all of these new realizations.

“He didn’t have the most…objective assessment of his academic record,” I murmur.

As I say the words out loud, I realize they’re true.

Weston has an elevated opinion of himself and carries himself with such confidence; who was I to contradict him?

But the main thing going for Weston is his family influence and money, and while perhaps that would be enough to score him a residency, what about me?

I was willing to risk everything—my entire future—for Weston, a man I am no longer certain took me into account when he made our future plans, and the revelation rocks me to my core .

“Fuck ‘im,” Zoe declares, now meeting my eyes, her expression much more genuine and open. “Thank God you don’t have to deal with that bastard anymore.”

With those words, a light glows in my chest. While I still have work to do on our friendship, I know now that Zoe is back on Team Lucy, and a hard knot loosens inside of me.

Amelia sighs. “Maybe it’s a good time to take a break from men.”

“Are you kidding?” Zoe bats her eyelashes. “Now that I’m free from that idiot Caleb, I’m ready to scope out some new guys.”

“No way. I don’t know if or when I’ll ever be ready to date again,” Amelia groans, likely referring to her ex Owen. For once in our med school careers, we are all currently single—I’m glad that’s one fact I know.

At that thought, I'm struck with inspiration. Grabbing a mini cinnamon bun from the basket, I lift it up in a pantomime of a toast. “I have a great idea! How about this—we swear off guys and just hang out with each other for the rest of the year.”

Zoe shakes her head, but her green eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Men are fine. Love . That’s the problem.”

Amelia told me that Zoe has been speed-dating through the phone book and having a blast. While I have no intentions of dating anyone in the near future, I’m glad Zoe is enjoying herself.

Someone should, after all. But a pang of uncertainty goes through me since she isn’t jumping at my proposal—was it a mistake to say it out loud?

“I don't know if I can give up on the idea of love,” mourns Isabelle .

Why did I even bring up this harebrained concept? “I’m sorry, it was a dumb suggestion, just forget about it.”

But then Amelia reaches over to squeeze my hand and gives me a reassuring smile. “I've missed your spur-of-the-moment ideas. I'm all for it.”

“Me too,” Zoe says, her fierce eyes glowing.

Iz gives me a sideways grin. “I could do with fewer complications in my life right now.”

Amelia plucks a roll from the basket, and Iz and Zoe follow. “No love for now. Let’s just focus on each other and have the best fourth year ever.” We all toast her pronouncement with our cinnamon buns, and then everyone but me takes a bite.

I want to eat it so badly, but I’ve been on a sweets ban for so long. Amelia raises a questioning eyebrow, so I hastily take a small bite. The warm, chewy dough with the sweet, white icing floods my taste buds.

Putting the cinnamon roll down before I’m tempted to cram the whole thing in my mouth, I say, “I just know fourth year is going to be the best year yet.”

With all of these amazing women in my corner, I feel a swell of hope. Maybe, just maybe, with their support, it’ll come true.