Page 16 of The Love Operation

“What are you saying? Because I don’t want my spine patients hearing this.”

I hear her roll her eyes. “We’ve never been afraid to push limits,” she goes on, a little wonder in her tone. “We thrive in impossible scenarios. And in this case, I don’t think the rules make sense. So . . . you can be in the study.” She takes a breath. “The IRB signed off, but just barely. Meaning, I still can’t deviate from the approved cohort. Which is why your involvement has to stay off the books. No one can know. Just us.”

“Delenn, are you sure you’re willing to violate protocol?” I almost want to laugh at myself. I’d called her to essentially beg for this very thing, but now that she’s so willing, I want her to slow down, think it through. I don’t want to push her into anything she’s uncomfortable with. “Maybe we should discuss all the potential risks.”

“Oh, they’re high,” she says, with a confidence that conveys she’s already considered them. “We’d be using hospital facilities in an unsanctioned capacity.”

“We could be fired,” I say flatly. “We both could.” My own words send a bolt of heat down my spine, like the devil’s just used my spinal cord as a plaything.

“That’s worst-case scenario,” she says. “I could also lose funding. Future grants. You could be removed from contention for chief. Reported to the medical board. And there’s potential side effects that might hinder your professional performance.”

“The results from the animal trials were airtight. The study wouldn’t have been approved if they weren’t, and I wouldn’t participate in that case either.”

“I know, but I’d be remiss if we didn’t throw in the possibility with everything else. We’d be risking everything,” she finishes, “for data I can’t even publish.”

“Goodness, Delenn. When you say it like that . . . it seems impossible.”

She’s quiet a second longer than I expect.

“When I thought it was impossible to stop drinking,” she says, “you told me I could do impossible things. When have we ever let the idea of impossible stop us?”

I smile. She’s right.

“Never,” I say.

“And even after everything we’ve just mentioned, I think the reward here is worth it.”

“The consequences are mitigated if we trust each other completely.”

“I do,” she says. “I trust you with my life, so it stands that I’d trust you with my career. Plus, we’re in the perfect position to pull it off. You’ve been staying late with me in my office for six months working on this. If there’s no reason for anyone to suspect anything, and there isn’t, they won’t.”

The pause between us is pregnant, full of potential and possibility. We are two ambitious women staring down the status quo and asking: risk or stagnation?

“So how much do you want this?” Delenn asks.

“I’m competing for chief. You think I can let the most exciting neural research in the hospital happen down the hall without being part of it?” But then I ease back, just a little. This is her research. If her final decision was no, I’d find a way to understand. “How much do you want this?” I say.

“I need this research to work. I already have people who don’t believe in it. It’s like I’m on probation and this study is the key to what happens next for me in my career. And you—unofficially—are ideal. It doesn’t feel like a violation. It feels like validation.”

I smile, my heart squeezing. “This feels like you claiming your worth—carving out your own future. I love it. And I’m honored to be part of it.”

These are the moments that cement our friendship—the two of us showing up for each other.

“So we’re doing this?” she asks, and I smile again at the rebel hope in her voice.

My pulse kicks up. This is the pivot. The push forward.

A surgeon knows when to hesitate and when to move. Hesitation at the wrong moment can kill a person. A good surgeon is bold. They do what needs doing, even when it’s scary, even when it feels too big.

“You name the time,” I say. “Let’s make this happen.”

“Tomorrow night,” she replies. “After your surgery, after the hospital clears out. I’ll have seen my first study participants earlier in the day, and I’ll be ready for you on my own.”

“I’ll be there.”

Delenn says something else, but I don’t hear her because my phone buzzes with a text.

Unknown Number: There are so many reasons we shouldn’t, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never had a connection with someone like this. And I can’t let it go.