Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“Your mother?” I curse myself to hell when I vocalize my question instead of keeping it inside my head. When two pairs of identical eyes stare at me in shock, I blubber out, “I wasn’t sure if she was your sister or your wife.” Mother! I meant to say mother.
I’m saved from throwing myself into the trench I just dug when Mrs. Ivanov laughs. “I’ve been accused of being their sister many times, but this is the first time I’ve ever been mistaken for their wife.”
She speaks as if more than just her son and me are standing across from her.
“Sorry,” she apologizes when she spots the bewilderment on my face. My bedside manner is exemplary, but I need to work on schooling my expressions while trying to work out if a patient’s quirks are neurological or part of their personality. “There was a time I could never get them apart. Now they’re rarely together.” Her eyes soften as they drift to her son. “Speaking of Matvei, you should probably give him an update. This development is no doubt interesting to all involved.”
Dark hair falls into her son’s eyes when he nods before he pulls a cell phone out of his pocket.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, too curious for my own good. “I tried to check up on you after you were discharged, but your contact information was as scarce as your admission paperwork.”
I laugh like it’s funny to lose a patient’s admission.
Thankfully it makes me appear more caring than stalkerish.
“You checked up on me?” Mrs. Ivanov asks, her tone piqued.
I nod. “I organized your discharge plan and forwarded it to the GP cited on your online medical records. It was full of information on managing and living with a B12 deficiency.” A frown crosses my face. “He wasn’t overly interested when I spoke with him, but I was hopeful he’d pass on the information to you.” I touch her arm before giving her the reassurance all practitioners should give their patients. “Your condition is manageable with the right management plan.”
“He passed on some information,” Mrs. Ivanov replies. “Although he failed to mention it came from you.”
I want to act surprised by her admission, but I am not. Her confession is one reason I turned down Dr. Sidorov’s promotion. I don’t think the private sector is the right fit for me. I got into medicine to help people. Profits should never come into it—not even when you’re struggling to rub two pennies together.
After looping her arm around my elbow, Mrs. Ivanov meanders us toward a taxi rank. “Come. Walk with me while Maksim takes care of business. We have much to discuss.”
Her perfume is as powerful as the silent warning her son hits her with when he eyes her peculiarly. He doesn’t exactly glare at her. He more gives her a look like the one I hit Zoya with whenever we went out drinking in college.
Once we’re at a safe distance, Mrs. Ivanov says, “You’ll have to excuse Maksim. He has a hard shell, but it is only to stop his gooey insides from spilling out.”
Maksim proves he has supersonic hearing by scoffing.
With a smile that proves she likes ruffling her son’s feathers, Mrs. Ivanov sits on a park bench edging the sidewalk before gesturing for me to join her. I move closer but remain standing. Benches are full of germs, and I need to save the sanitizing wipes in my purse for the bus trip I’m taking later tonight.
I remained living at my grandparents’ apartment for a reason. It is close enough to the hospital that I’ll never have to use public transport.
Public modes of transport give me the ick.
Their apartment is a little pricier than the other one-bedrooms in the area, but what I save in transport fees more than makes up the difference.
I’ve also not had a single sick day in the past three years.
Mrs. Ivanov mistakes my germ phobia as fear. “I won’t bite, dear.” She doesn’t attempt to alter her volume when she adds, “Although from how highly Maksim has spoken of you the past two weeks, I may be the only Ivanov keeping their teeth sheathed.”
Maksim’s eyes shoot up from his cell phone while my eyes rocket to him. “Ma.”
“What?” she replies, her eyes gleaming like she’s proud she once again forced him to respond. “Was anything I said untrue?”
Heat creeps across my cheeks when Maksim remains quiet.
It returns my thoughts to when I walked in on him in the shower and has me hopeful for another spontaneous run-in.
My prayers appear as if they’ll be left ungranted when a dark sedan pulls in behind the bench, completely ignoring the angry honk of the cab driver he cut off. The SUV is fancy and heavily tinted. I highly doubt it charges by the mile.
“That will be for me.”