The Procedure (8 page)

I found myself on the beaches of Miami, searching the sand for an unbroken shell that was perfect enough for such a sweet little girl. I’d ruined two pairs of high-priced shoes in the search, but she was worth every cent I’d paid.

On the way back to her bed, her eyes landed on Samantha, who was standing in the doorway. I watched as her self-confidence deflated, and she put her head down as if to cover her burn scars.

“How rude of me. Tori, this is my very good friend, Samantha.” I motioned for Samantha to come into the room. “Samantha, meet Tori the mermaid, also known as one of my favorite patients.”

Tori’s face lit up at my words, and she climbed back in her bed.

Suddenly, I was worried that I’d overestimated Samantha. What if she was as low as the circles she ran in? What if she took one look at Tori and her burns, and her disgust showed on her face? I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look at her again, much less help her, if she showed Tori anything less than the kindness she deserved.

Samantha moved into the room, a light sheen to her eyes as if she were about to cry, and then she smiled. “Hello, Mermaid Tori. Am I to assume that your fins and tail only appear when you’re in the ocean?” she asked playfully

Tori giggled loudly, sounding every bit the eight-year-old she was, and something inside me shifted. I moved to the side and watched as Samantha sat in the chair beside Tori’s bed, playing and laughing with her. Not once did her eyes betray her. Not once did I catch her looking overly long at Tori’s skin. It was as if she hadn’t seen her scars and burns at all, and I couldn’t help but appreciate her even more.

When it was time to leave, she leaned in and hugged Tori. A smile tugged her lips as she bent and whispered something in Tori’s ear that made the little girl light up even more.

“It was great meeting you, Tori. Try not to give the doc a hard time when I’m not around.” She smirked over at me.

I smiled, rustled Tori’s hair once again, and told her I’d see her soon.

We visited two more of my patients. A six-year-old named Logan, who had chemical burns across his stomach. He was the product of an extreme case of child abuse. And Bailey, who had lost half of her eyesight and face in an apartment fire. She was also quite possibly the smartest ten-year-old girl I’d ever had the privilege to meet.

Through all the meetings, Samantha was sweet to each child. She talked to them as if they weren’t in the burn unit of a children’s hospital, but as if they were just normal, fun children. She’d batted her lashes at Logan when he called her pretty and had even given Bailey a tiny makeup lesson with some pink eye shadow the girl had in her room to play with.

She was amazing. Seeing just how truly amazing was eye opening. I’d help her no matter what it took. I’d help her even knowing that the man she was doing everything for was a worthless wanker, who wasn’t fit to kiss her toes.

I opened her car door for her when we left the hospital, and she smiled up me after climbing in. Her smile was contagious and after seeing her with the kids, I couldn’t help but want to hug her.

After I put on my seat belt and cranked the car, she turned toward me and captured my attention. The excitement in her eyes was something I’d pay money to see every day.

I shook my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I am?” Her smile dropped and confusion tilted her brows.

“The funny thing is that you don’t realize how wonderful you are, Samantha Aldridge.”

The car got quiet, and her eyes moved over my face as if checking to see if I was joking with her. Feeling confident that I was indeed being serious, she reached out, playfully patted my arm, and smiled before turning and hooking her seat belt.

Quickly changing the subject, she smoothed her hair down behind her shoulder and turned to me again.

“So what next, Doc?” she asked spiritedly.

I chuckled to myself as I pulled into traffic. “I’m glad you asked. Ever owned a pet?” I asked.

I’D NEVER SEEN
anything more beautiful than the way Roman handled the children at the hospital. Even with burns on more than fifty percent of their bodies, they were still able to smile and play happily. I felt low—lower than low, actually.

Just days before, I was practically begging Roman to change my perfectly fine face, while there were beautiful young girls and boys who would never look the same again. Roman taking me to the hospital to meet his young patients had taught me something about myself that I never knew before. I was selfish.

Sitting in silence in the seat next to him, I thought about all the things I’d wanted to change about myself. I felt stupid and naïve. I decided in that moment that regardless of what happened with Roman’s “procedure,” I’d opt out of the cosmetic surgery. I didn’t need it. The children at the hospital did. I was beginning to understand Roman and his reasons for reconstructive surgery over cosmetic.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Roman asked from the driver’s seat.

“Thank you for taking me there,” I said.

I didn’t need to explain why I was thanking him. He looked over at me and nodded his understanding.

“Thank
you
,” he countered.

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“You did more than you realize. You talked to them. You were playful, and not once did I see disgust in your eyes. Not once did you stare. They needed that.”

I was confused by his words. Why would anyone be disgusted by children? “They’re just kids, and there was nothing disgusting about any of them.”

And then Roman surprised me as he reached over and grabbed my hand. As he squeezed it softly in his large, warm palm, a sense of euphoria moved through me. The warmth from his hand moved up my wrist until my arm was hot and my body was becoming flushed. I’d never experienced anything like it over something as simple as someone grabbing my hand.

As soon as it happened, he released my hand and turned his eyes to the road once more. He was totally unfazed by the touch, but I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. It was confusing for me, but I chocked it up to not being touched much for so long.

The town became familiar as we moved down several streets. The buildings changed in size, and the sidewalks became full of people in the rush of daily life. Finally, he parked in front of a building and began to unbuckle his seat belt. Looking up at the sign, I smiled.

“Miami Animal Shelter?” I asked, confused.

Why in the world would he be taking me to the animal shelter? Did he also help animals?

A wide smile curved Roman’s lips. “Follow me.”

There were rows upon rows of animals in need of adoption. When I stuck my finger in one of the cages, a tiny, black kitten batted at my finger cutely from its back. I cooed down at it, sure I’d never seen anything sweeter.

Roman stood at my side and watched me as if I were part of an exhibit. He stood, hands latched behind his back, as I went from cage to cage admiring the animals. He didn’t speak, but just his presence was calming. In the last few hours, I’d learned that Roman made me feel womanly and admired. Even something as small as holding my car door for me—it made my day.

We moved toward the dogs, the sound of puppies barking and the distinct smell of dog filling the air. I didn’t mind it. In fact, it was something I’d never known. I’d never owned a pet. My dad was allergic and Michael said they were repulsive creatures, but I could understand why people wanted them. They were playful, and I had to admit having someone other than Michael to go home to sounded lovely.

The ladies of the shelter didn’t take their eyes off Roman. He moved around the room, looking at each animal and occasionally smiling over at me as if I were crazy for talking to the animals as if they understood me. I knew what the ladies saw because I say it, too. I was married—I wasn’t blind. Roman was beautiful—not just in the way he looked, but in the way he looked at people. It was hard to keep your eyes off him.

As I moved around the room, my eyes landed on big, black dog. He was scruffy and way too big for the cage he was in. His fur hung from his lanky form, and I was sure he was in need a hot, soapy bath, but something about his eyes reminded me of Roman’s. They were caramel colored and kind. When I stepped up to his cage, he lowered his head in a skittish manner and gave my fingertips a quick lick before he moved toward the back of his cage.

He seemed afraid and battered, as if he was a kindred spirit to my own. I understood his need to retreat—his need for affection, but his fear of trying to get it.

“It’s okay,” I said softly as I kneeled down to his cage.

His big, friendly eyes looked up at me and, again, he moved forward a bit to give my hand a quick lick.

“I think he likes you,” Roman said from my side.

“I like him, too,” I said with a smile. “He reminds me of you.” The words left my mouth before I realized how terrible it sounded.

“Are you comparing me to a dog?” Roman asked, but I could hear the smile in his voice from above where I knelt.

“What I mean is that he’s friendly. His eyes are light and friendly like yours. I could feel safe being around him.” I kept my head down, showering the big dog with the attention I was sure he needed.

He wasn’t the cutest animal in the shelter, and I was sure no one could tell me what kind of dog he was. There were patches of hair missing along his hind legs, and it looked as if someone might have had something evil around his neck at some point, but still, I couldn’t take my eyes off his. He was just a big, sweet dog in need of affection, and I understood him.

“Do you want him?” Roman asked from above me.

“I think I do.”

And just like that, Roman made him mine. After all the paperwork and a long hour of waiting for them to bring the dog around, I was surprised that Roman was totally okay with putting the giant, stinky dog in the back of his expensive and sleek sports car.

Duke, as I so sweetly named him, took up the entire backseat and had a serious problem with gas. The ride back to Roman’s office was spent laughing with the windows down.

“COME ON IN, DUKE
. Make yourself at home, but don’t get too comfortable on the floor anywhere,” I said with a smile as I ushered my new pet into the house.

The last thing I wanted was for him to leave any smelly surprises anywhere. I wasn’t positive he was house trained, but I’d stopped by the local pet store and got him everything he needed, along with a few pamphlets on house training an older dog.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with Duke. I gave him a bath and fed him, before taking him to the backyard so he could get acquainted with his new home. He was shy and sheepish at first, but he soon caught a squirrel in his sight and took off across the backyard, barking and jumping with pure happiness.

I’d saved him from what I was sure was an impending death at the shelter, and it felt good. I smiled to myself as I thought about the day I’d had with Roman. I thought about how he was with the children at the hospital and how he’d played with a tiny puppy at the shelter, but had stopped immediately as if he were too manly for such an act when he caught me looking at him.

He really was a special man, and the lady who finally caught him was sure to be one lucky girl.

“Duke!” I called out when I was ready to go back inside. “Come on, boy!”

He turned as if he knew his name already and ran back toward me, ears flapping and tongue hanging out.

When he reached me, he ran his wet nose into my palm before giving it a quick lick. Leaning down, I ran my fingers through his short fur and gave him a nice petting behind his ears.

“What the fuck is that?” Michael said behind me, breaking the moment of happiness, and making both Duke and me tense.

Duke growled softly at my side as if he was already my great protector, and I reached down and soothed the top of his head.

“I… um…” I stuttered.

“Where did that vile thing come from?” Michael asked.

“I got him from the Miami Animal Shelter. He’s just a big, old sweetheart,” I said as if I were talking to a baby.

Bending over, I gathered Duke’s face in my palms and burrowed my fingers in his fur.

“Take him back,” Michael demanded. “I don’t want some big, ugly mutt smelling up the house.”

He could be rude to me all he wanted, I was used to him, but being mean to an innocent animal didn’t sit well with me. Standing, I wiped at my pants and blew the hair from my face.

“I’m not,” I said strongly.

Michael’s face transformed. His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I said… I’m not taking him back. He’s mine.” I took a step forward. “You leave me alone in this house that’s too big for two people while you go off doing God knows what, and I’m sick of it. He’s here to keep me company. He stays,” I said sternly.

Michael looked at me as if I were someone he’d never seen before he turned on his heel and went back into the house. I didn’t miss his words when he called out through the house, “Fine! Maybe he’ll fuck you!” before the front door slammed and Duke and I were alone again.