Scoring the Billionaire(43)

By the time I was done, I was breathing heavily, and Thing 1 and Thing 2  had smiles on their faces that would rival a lottery winner.

"What?" I asked with irritation highlighting my voice.

"Okay," Kline said simply, and I blinked.

"No argument?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "You're right."

"I'm right?"

"Yep."

What the fuck did he mean I was right? They weren't going to try to  convince me otherwise? I was that wrong for Winnie and Lex? So much so  that my own friends weren't even going to try to tell me I wasn't.

Jesus. I wasn't Satan, for fuck's sake.

And I loved them. Both of them. They could do worse than me.

Angry, I told Kline and Thatch that. "I'm not that bad, you know. I love  them. Christ, I could be fucking no-good-Nick, having it all, and  throwing it all away, even though they constantly gave me chances."

Kline bit his lip and then shook his head. "No, you're right. You're too  busy for them. You can't be there the way they need you to be."

"I can be there," I protested.

"You missed that game," Thatch pointed out, and I faltered. I had. I'd  missed it, and goddamn, the disappointment in their voices and in  Winnie's disgusted eyes still made me feel sick when I thought about it.

But I could do better. I had the money to slow down. I didn't have to be here every second of every day.

"I could take a step back from stuff."

Kline looked skeptical.

"I could," I affirmed.

"Well, I mean, if you think you could," he said in half-assed agreement.

"I could. And anytime I couldn't be there, I could send one of you guys. I could make sure they always had someone."

"You're right," Kline agreed, and I paused.

Jesus. Reverse-psychology-wielding motherfucker.

"Stop being so goddamn clever," I demanded.

"He's good, huh?" Thatch said with a chuckle.

Fuck. Two minutes with this guy and he'd managed to rework my entire  line of thinking. But he was so good, he didn't tell me the way it was;  he made me figure it out all on my goddamn own.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I actually helped you fuckers when you needed  it instead of putting you through this fucking bullshit."

"But I thought you didn't want a relationship like we have?" Thatch teased.

"Fuck you guys."

"We love you too," Thatch said mock-sweetly.         

     



 

Even though Kline had helped guide me to realization, I still wasn't  sure how I could right the awful wrong. How could I get Winnie to  forgive after I had done what every other man had done in her and Lex's  life?

It truly was the fuck-up of all fuck-ups in the history of fuck-ups.

I'd hurt her-them-in the absolute worst way.

And honestly, I wasn't sure how in the hell I could fix that …





January had bled into February, and now March was in full swing.  Remnants of dirt-covered snow-probably piss-covered, too-rested against  the edges of the streets, and it took a whole lot of effort to get my  favorite black suede pumps into the building without a tragedy of epic  stiletto proportions.

Tonight, I was attending a Children's Hospital charity function at  Apella. The sleek and modern reception venue was decked out in a  kids'-style circus theme. Tables were covered in bright cloths,  mimicking the appearance of a clown's costume, and the spacious room was  encased in a gorgeous red tent that hung from the ceiling. The ambiance  all but screamed, I'm whimsical and entertaining.

If only I felt as upbeat. For two straight months, my insides had been  feeling like perpetual night. I waited and waited for time to heal my  Wes-inflicted wounds, but the goddamn sun never rose.

Attendees littered the room, chatting animatedly with one another as I  headed in the direction of our assigned table with Scott Shepard, my  date for the evening. I'd known Scott for years, having attended med  school together at Yale, done the same surgical rotation at Mount Sinai,  and even worked together at St. Luke's for about three years before I  had left to work for the Mavericks.

He was an all-around good guy. Super sweet, charming, and handsome in a  slightly rugged way, and his dark hair, even darker eyes, and jawline  covered in five days' worth of scruff had a lot of female staff members  at St. Luke's begging for his attention.

But I'd never really seen him that way. We had more of a brother-sister  kind of relationship, which probably had a lot to do with the fact that  he reminded me of my brother Jude.

But Scott was a good friend. He had always been a good friend. And even  though we didn't speak often, I knew he was someone I could always count  on. Which was why he was doing me a huge favor by being my date for the  evening.

Although I'd never specialized in pediatrics, I still donated my time  and money to help the Children's Hospital raise funds and awareness for  various causes, and tonight's focus was on autism research. Obviously,  it hit very close to home. I knew firsthand what it was like to have an  autistic child, and I knew how much specialized programs and therapies  could help families raising children on the spectrum.

"You look gorgeous tonight, Win," Scott complimented as he pulled out my chair and helped me into my seat.

Gorgeous? I hadn't felt gorgeous in what felt like forever.

Broken? Yes.

Sad? Of course.

But gorgeous? Maybe I was in a tragic way, I guess. But it was safe to  say, ever since Wes had broken my heart, it took a lot of effort to have  an outward appearance of put together and okay. I was still so far from  okay that no high-tech navigation system or Siri herself could help  guide me back at this stage in the heartbreak game.

I smoothed my hands down my simple yet classic black silk gown and  forced a grin in his direction as he sat beside me. "You're not looking  so bad yourself, Dr. Shepard," I said with a wink.

"Oh, c'mon, Winnie. We know I always look good."

I laughed. "Are you trying to tell me I don't always look good?"

"Well … I've seen you at three a.m., half asleep and busting ass out of the call room … "

"Whatever," I scoffed. "Just so you know, your three a.m. bedhead look isn't exactly cover-worthy either."

"That's not what the nurses say," he teased, and I rolled my eyes.

"Tell me, Scott, how do you find the time to brainwash all those girls?"

A server stopped by our table and took our drink order-wine for me and a  beer for Scott-and made quick work of getting our drinks while we  chatted politely with the other guests at our table. A few were also  physicians we had met through various hospital and charity functions,  like nearly every gathering of certified med-heads, the conversation  pretty quickly dissolved into a gore-fest recounting of our most  cringeworthy cases. An orthopedic attending surgeon at Mt. Sinai had  just finished regaling us with tales of amputation when the waiter  brought us our second round of drinks.         

     



 

"I thought Lexi was coming with us?" Scott asked after taking a drink of his beer.

"I figured it'd be best if Melinda didn't bring her by until after  dinner. That way, she can enjoy the kids' fair without having to sit  through boring adult conversation."

Scott grinned. "You calling me boring, Win?"

I laughed and shrugged. "Maybe."

"I've been told I'm quite the conversationalist."

I nudged his shoulder playfully. "Yeah. I'm sure Tammy, Sandie, Fiona and …  Which charge nurse always works the night shift?"

"Samantha," he responded immediately.

I grinned. "Oh, how could I forget Samantha? You two used to date, didn't you?"

"If by date, you mean sneaking quickies in the call room, then sure, we  used to date," he clarified with a sly smile. If it wasn't already  apparent, Scott was a great guy but also a huge flirt. He pretty much  made a show of "dating" anything with big boobs and long legs. He wasn't  the type of guy who settled down. He was still enjoying being single  and having zero responsibilities related to relationships.

"Do you guys still date?"

"Occasionally." He winked.

"Who else are you dating at St. Luke's now?" I probed further with a teasing smile.

He waggled his brows. "Mandy."

"I don't remember a Mandy … "

"She's a new physician they just hired. She's a lot like you, actually. Mean. Demanding. A total ballbuster."

"I'm not mean," I said in feigned irritation, and he just chuckled softly in response.

"When shit isn't going smoothly, you can get a little mean, Win. Especially if you haven't had a chance to caffeinate."

"Well, someone had to take charge. St Luke's gets too many traumas to let chaos rule the flow."

"That's why I miss having you there." He tapped my hand that rested on  the table with his fingers. "You ran a tight ship without pissing  everyone off. A lot of people miss you, by the way. You sure you like  this whole football gig?"

"I'm sure." I grinned and then thought more into his question. "Wait … is  that why you agreed to come with me tonight? To try and lure me back to  the ED."