Claire laughed. “Okay, then. Hello.”
Had he really come back to the office to say hi his patients? Or was he here to have the Dreaded Talk?
Why hadn’t he just gone home? This could wait. She was tired too, and she wasn’t up to a conversation about regrets.
He continued talking to his patient, not giving Hannah a second glance as he listened intently to Claire’s plans for surgery. He held out a hand for the chart, which Hannah gave him. A moment passed as he perused the contents, flipping pages. “I’d like it if you waited until after you complete the regimen, just to be sure. You’ll be stronger and there’ll be less worry about infection.”
“That’s what the surgeon said, as well.” Her hand crept up to the robe, and the hollow left by the mastectomy. “It’s healing well, and he says I’m a good candidate.”
“I agree. There’s no reason to think you wouldn’t be. Let’s just get you through the next couple of months.”
Maybe that’s what she needed to focus on: getting through the next couple of months. Well … nine, in her case.
Standing in the hallway with Greg while Claire got dressed, she cast about for something to say that would send him on his way. But he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, leaning against the wall, watching her.
Why was he doing that? Why hadn’t he just gone straight to his office and let her finish up with the patient?
“How did surgery go?”
“Pretty well.”
“This was the Hodgkin’s patient, right?” She tried to get him to keep talking, in part to prevent the silence from growing more awkward but also because this was a diagnosis close to her heart.
At his nod, she pressed forward. “Did you have to perform a splenectomy?”
“She was in the early stages, so yes.” He paused and glanced down the hallway toward his office. “I don’t like doing them, but …”
“I know.” Her fingers itched to go to his arm and reassure him, but she didn’t dare. “I’m doing fine without mine, though.”
“Sometimes it’s the only way to know for sure how much lymph-node involvement there is.”
Hodgkin’s cells tended to collect in the spleen early in the disease. Hers had been removed for the same reason.
Before she could reply, Claire came through the door, her huge handbag slung over her shoulder. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll try to peek in on you at the hospital during your next treatment. When do you go in?”
Hannah’s brows went up. Since when did he do that? He’d never come into the chemo room when she’d been having her infusions. And it wasn’t like his time wasn’t sucked in every direction under the sun already. They saw Claire off and then she turned to face him. “Are you doing that for all your patients now?”
“Doing what?”
“Checking in on them during chemo treatments.”
He pulled his shoulder off the wall and stood straighter. “When I’m at the hospital, I try to.”
A small ache went through her heart. “You’re going to kill yourself, you know.” She wasn’t sure whether or not she should follow that thought, but the words just kind of came out. “I know what it’s like to wonder if you have a tomorrow. It’s made me grab at life and enjoy every second I have.”
His eyes met hers, and his jaw tightened. “Some of us don’t have that option.”
“That’s ridiculous. You have as much choice as the next person.”
A hard laugh echoed through the hallway. “I see. And your way of enjoying life is to do whatever strikes your fancy at that particular moment—especially after business hours—no matter what the consequences?”
The inference was plain.
She glanced down the hall, hoping no one was within earshot. “Maybe that’s what’s needed sometimes. Less thinking, more doing.” Hannah didn’t believe that for a second, but she wasn’t about to admit how much his attitude hurt. There was almost an accusatory slant to his tone that made her wonder if he really felt that way about her.
He stared at her for several seconds then sighed. “I think we need to have that talk before this goes any further.”
Afraid he was going to suggest going to his office—the last place she wanted to be right now—she almost sagged in relief when he motioned toward the door of the exam room Claire had just vacated. Maybe he felt the same reluctance to share his office space with her. Fine, as far as she was concerned.
She swept through the doorway ahead of him, grabbing up a few items and starting to stow them away. The snick of the lock stopped her cold. Swinging around to face him, her eyes went to the door, which was indeed locked. What was that all about?
“I didn’t think you wanted anyone to overhear this particular discussion.”
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