Page 387 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I studied the scans closely, following the bleed to the source and satisfying myself with the initial plan I’d created. Surgery almost always required an audible, but where you started was nine-tenths of the success in deciding on one.

Gloves on and at the ready, I stepped forward as a nurse placed my head lamp on over my surgery cap and stepped up to Mr. Marratta’s shaved and prepped head.

“All right, everyone. Let’s save one life, not change many.”

The reach of a person’s death was too extensive to fathom, and I knew firsthand. The death of my grandfather had shaped my early adulthood.

I’d longed for financial security. Longed for how it felt before I’d been forced to carry debt. So that’s what I’d given my daughter. Money.

Like a stupid fucking asshole.

After a smooth but long surgery and forty-five minutes of making sure all of the scheduled surgeries were proceeding without a hitch, I made it back to my office and, in the privacy it provided, checked my phone. Early in my career, I’d scarcely bothered with it other than to answer a page, but now that I was here, and Lexi was here, I found I checked it every opportunity I got.

She liked to text me all sorts of things at random, and I never wanted to miss the opportunity to acknowledge one. I was determined to be present.

I smiled as I found a text from her waiting on the screen and clicked to open the content.

A picture of her doing her best gangster pose in front of a dance studio I recognized from the walk between my apartment and here filled my screen. I scrolled down after smiling broadly and read the text she’d sent to accompany it.

Lexi: I finally convinced Uncle Remy to take a hip-hop class with me. He declined the opportunity to be photographed.

Oh, shit. I could only fucking imagine Winnie’s brother Remy’s reaction to his new foray into the world of dance.

Me: I will pay you twenty dollars if you procure a picture during class, no questions asked.

Lexi: Really, Dad? Mom is paying me fifty.

I shook my head at her swindling tactics.

Me: Well, then, all together you’ll make 70.

Lexi: Fine. But I’m docking the time of receipt of said photo for you by ten minutes.

I groaned. Jesus Christ, only my daughter.

Me: I’ll survive.

Lexi: Of course, you’ll survive. Anticipation has no proven ill effects.

Me: Aren’t you going to be late for dance?

Lexi: I have fourteen minutes.

I shook my head. Late wasn’t in Lexi’s vocabulary. It just wasn’t possible when your mind was that precise.

Me: Get warmed up, then. I have to work.

Lexi: Bye.

I laughed outright before putting the phone down on my desk, looking at it…and then picking it up again.

I opened a fresh message, clicked on the address box, and searched my contacts. C. H. A. R.

Charlotte.

One click and her name was there, just waiting for me to type up something witty or charming or in any way interesting and push send.

Me: Hi.