Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Nathan fixes me with a serious look. “You know they’re going to support you no matter what. They always did with me.”
I pull in a breath. I know my parents want me to be happy. And I know on the outside they will support every decision I make. But I want every inch of them to be proud of me, and if I gave up medicine, I just don’t know if that would be possible.
“Yeah.” It’s all I can manage to say. My parents’ approval is another obstacle on the course out in front of me if I’m really considering writing full-time. But Nathan’s right—if I’m ever going to try to be a writer, it’s now. It just seems like an impossible mountain to climb. “I’ll have a think about stuff this coming week.” I’d booked the week off from the hospital with the intention of focusing on the private practice. Maybe I need to be making bigger decisions.
“Whatever you do, I’m here for you,” Nathan says.
“Just don’t tell anyone. Not even Madison. I don’t want it getting out and everyone weighing in on what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I need a clear head.”
“You have my word, except I have to tell Madison.”
I groan. “I don’t want this getting out. Not yet.”
“I’ll make her swear a blood oath. It won’t get out.” Nathan is an excellent secret keeper. Keeping his best friend’s secrets had nearly ruined his life in the past. I know mine is safe with him. And if he trusts Madison wouldn’t say anything, I do too.
Whatever happens, I can’t carry on like I have been doing and living in limbo. I need to commit to medicine and set my desire to write aside, or I need to give writing a go.
By the end of next week, I’ll make a decision—once and for all.
Six
Ellie
I’ve spent the first thirty minutes of Monday morning sitting behind my desk, researching doctor’s waiting rooms online to see if I can come up with ideas on how to improve this place. I’ve talked to Jen and the other two assistants about their roles and responsibilities, to make sure I haven’t missed anything. The issue is, ninety-five percent of their jobs involve patients: booking them in, cancelling them, moving them around, organizing scans and blood tests and booking in endoscopies and fitting in emergencies. I don’t need to do any of that, because we still haven’t had any patients through the door.
Jen assures me that as soon as the insurer recognition comes through, things will change. But what if they don’t? What can I do to make sure I keep this job for the next seventeen months?
I’ve calculated what I need to save each month so I can apply for the June intake of Le Cordon Bleu in just over a year and a half, and I’ve created a spreadsheet to keep track of every pound standing between me and my future life. The life where Shane is just a bad memory. The life that’s about me. Every month, I fill in the spreadsheet, noting what I’ve saved. I watch the outstanding amount required box ratchet down. It’s far more satisfying than it should be, even with the small amounts I’ve managed to set aside with the minimum wage temp jobs I’ve had up until now. My spreadsheet also has the date I have to submit the application highlighted. I’ve noted down the list of equipment I’m going to need to buy before I start. I’ve even noted down the skills I’d like to practice before I get there. There’s no harm in a head start.
Except that whatever I do now, it won’t be a head start. I’m going to be forever playing catch-up because I wasted ten years of my life on Shane. We’d started out as a partnership, a power couple. Somewhere along the way, I’d become just a woman who managed his business, cooked his meals for him, was his emotional punching bag. A woman who was never quite good enough at any of it for him.
I’m not sure when things changed, or maybe things were never how I’d seen them in the first place. Cynthia never said anything, but I could tell by the way she wasn’t surprised when I told her the way Shane treated me that she’d either known or suspected all along that he wasn’t good for me.
I just wish it hadn’t taken him cheating on me and throwing me out of my home for me to see it for myself.
There’s no point in dwelling on the past. I need to focus on my spreadsheet.
Everything’s in place. I just need Zach to go get us some patients.
Just as I start to spiral over our barren waiting room, Zach arrives. What is he doing here?
The best way I can describe his expression is troubled. He’s still hot as hell, but he has a definite uneasy look about him.