Anatomy of a Meet Cute, page 14
“How’d it go?” Jehan’s voice floated through the hallway as soon as Sam closed the apartment door.
“Hey,” Sam called, stepping out of her shoes and setting her bag down.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me. How was it?” Jehan stuck her head out of the kitchen and narrowed her eyes at Sam.
“Oh, you know, as well as these things can.” Sam could swear that taking the MCAT had been easier than keeping the excitement out of her voice.
Jehan wrinkled her nose and shook her salad fork at Sam. “What does that mean? Well like good-feeling well? Or well like you are going to get a rejection email in a week?” Originally, Sam had thought she would keep the good news to herself until she, Jehan, and Duke were all home tomorrow night. But given the way Jehan was looking at her, she’d be lucky if the tiny woman didn’t pry it from her in the next thirty-three seconds.
“Well, I don’t think we’ll be getting a rejection email . . .” Sighing, Sam looked at the floor, then back at her friend, savoring the suspense for a moment longer before saying, “Because they gave us a yes today!”
Jehan shrieked and dropped her fork on the counter as she launched a hug at Sam. “This is amazing!”
“I know. I wanted to surprise you and Duke, but now we’ll just have to surprise him when he gets home,” Sam said, marveling at how tight Jehan was squeezing.
“I want to know every detail. Who did you meet with? What kind of questions did they ask? Did they like my proposal? Was Grant nice?” Jehan asked all these questions in rapid succession as she released Sam.
Letting the air flow back into her lungs, Sam started answering the first question, which prompted Jehan to ask about fifteen more as she carried her lunch to the table by the big window, forcing Sam to follow her so she could eat while they spoke.
“It sounds like a success, all things considered.”
“I’d say so,” Sam said, still buzzing with excitement as she tried to read upside down the papers that Jehan had strewed all over the table.
“And Grant gave you a ride home, even though he lives in the Outer Sunset?” Jehan asked, swallowing a final bite of salad as Sam stopped to take a breath.
“Yeah, he said it is close by.”
“I don’t think that’s true. Pretty sure my eyebrow stylist is out there. It’s like on the exact opposite side of town,” Jehan said, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow.
Sam was halfway through marveling at the fact that Jehan even had an eyebrow stylist when she processed what her friend was implying. “Maybe he had an errand to run?”
“Right.” Jehan nodded, drawing the r sound in the word out a little too much for Sam’s liking.
“What? I don’t know why he said what he said. But I very much doubt he would go that far out of his way for me,” Sam said, trying not to taste the fib in that sentence. This morning, she would’ve been able to deny that sentence with confidence. Now she wasn’t so sure. But Jehan didn’t need to know that.
Looking around the table for a subject change, Sam reexamined the handful of paper spread out in front of her friend. She realized that it was lists and samples of engagement party save-the-dates. Glancing back up at Jehan, Sam saw the puffiness around her eyes in a new light. This wasn’t just standard long-shift tired; this was something else. After waiting for Jehan to finish chewing, Sam asked, “So how’s the party planning going?”
“It’s, um . . . it’s going. Kind of.” Jehan looked at the paper on either side of her and sagged.
“Is it going? Because it doesn’t sound like it is,” Sam said, readjusting in her seat to try to catch her friend’s eye.
Jehan scowled and poked at the last few bites of her salad for a moment before exhaling like someone had punched her in the stomach. “Okay, it’s not going well at all. In fact, I would say that it is going terrible, and if I hadn’t just woken up from a nap, I’d likely be crying over it. As it stands, I’m just sort of wallowing in avoidance mode.”
“Okay, well, maybe don’t do that.” Sam suppressed a chuckle as her friend set her salad bowl down and put her head in her hands. “Can you tell me what happened? I thought you decided not to stress about your mom, the aunts, and Travis.”
“I did. And it was going really great until we actually set a date for the party. Now I’m being bombarded by opinions on the invitations and the catering for the thing, which is ridiculous. My family has a zillion opinions about the color; meanwhile Travis just wants to send an e-vite, which is basically causing my father to have a meltdown. And I just—”
“Can’t you do both?” Sam asked, gently reaching across the table and pulling on one of her roommate’s arms so that she had to look up.
“I could, but then there is my mom and the guest list to contend with, and I . . . I just don’t know. I wish I could elope and throw a big party all at the same time.” Jehan sighed and frowned over at her salad bowl again, looking exhausted.
Sam’s heart broke for her friend. Jehan was constantly helping others, and it always seemed like she had no one in her corner.
The thought that her roommate needed help poked at Sam’s conscience. Jehan had written the Anjo grant report for Sam—money that typically took an inexperienced grant writer years to get. With Jehan’s help Sam had gotten a grant within two months. Just last week, she’d done Duke’s chores after he had a rough night shift and picked up some new beauty product for Sam because she knew she was looking for it. Sam couldn’t not help her. If anything, this was her chance to pay her friend back for the myriad kindnesses she’d shown Sam since they moved in together.
“Jehan, what if I took care of the invites and all that for you? Tell me which invite you like best, give me the list of names, and I’ll mail them out. Then you can tell your family and Travis that it’s handled and be done with it.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Jehan said, looking up from her salad bowl in surprise. “Seriously, invites are time consuming, and you have your research program to get off the ground.”
“A program I wouldn’t have without your help. Just saying.” Sam shrugged.
“I don’t know . . .” Jehan wrinkled her nose as she processed.
“Really. Happy to help with all that. Plus, I love invitations and decor and guest lists and all that stuff. And I’m doing them for my mom’s party anyway, so my helping you is really just more efficient,” Sam said, lying ever so slightly to her friend. In reality, she knew almost nothing about that stuff outside what her high school best friend’s mother, Dr. Victoria Blake, housekeeping and party planner extraordinaire, had taught her.
Jehan blinked at her for a minute, then grinned big enough to show all her teeth before saying, “Oh, thank you!”
“Anytime.” Sam counted her blessings. Jehan was clearly exhausted. Otherwise, she would have known that Sam was lying. “Just send me what you need, and I’ll let you know when it is done.”
“Of course. I’ll send it over as soon as I finish forcing vegetables down my throat.” Jehan giggled, looking lighter than Sam had seen her all week.
“Excellent,” Sam said, standing up and walking toward her room. “I’m gonna go change outa this suit and then email Kaiya about the funding.”
“Good luck. Let me know if you need help shouting the good news,” Jehan called as Sam walked down the hall.
“Don’t worry about me. Just worry about sending me your lists.” Sam smiled over her shoulder as she hustled into her room.
She had just shed the uncomfortable waistband of her skirt and pulled her laptop out from its cubby by her bed when her phone buzzed. When she looked down, Sam’s heart flipped around in her chest as Grant’s name scrolled across the screen.
Dr. Franklin is looking for volunteers to chart records this afternoon. If you offer to help, he might be nicer when you ask him for a room for the program.
Sam felt herself smile as the little . . . that implied he was still typing blinked at her. This was a Grant she recognized. Before she would have seen this text as the frosty work of a man who was a little too perfect for his own good. Now she wasn’t so sure. He’d downplayed the way he’d prepared for their meeting, instead trying to guide her in his own quiet way. Sam pursed her lips and was trying to think of how best to respond when his texts arrived one after the other.
Just a tip. Of course, you do not have to work on your day off.
And congratulations, again. :-)
Sam almost laughed. She could practically see him grimacing as he typed the most uncharacteristically Grant thing in the world—a smiley face. He must really want her to know that he was trying to help. Still smiling, she typed back.
Couldn’t have done it without you.
After hitting send, she quickly added a :-) to the chain, just so that he wouldn’t be left feeling foolish for sharing a small emotion. Sam held her phone in her hands for just a moment, fighting the urge to reread his text like it was a precious message, but the time caught her eye. 1:42 p.m. If she was going to catch Dr. Franklin in order to volunteer, she needed to get a move on.
Chapter Eleven
If this doula program was successful, Sam decided her next fundraising effort would focus on helping the hospital update its software so that no one ever had to manually enter another patient chart into the system again. As soon as she’d received her assignment, Sam had tried to get a moment of Dr. Franklin’s time to no avail: he’d rushed off to a meeting and then taken a seemingly endless number of phone calls—which Sam knew because she casually walked by his office every forty-five minutes just to see if he was available.
Rounding the corner, she paused just outside the door to listen for Dr. Franklin on the phone and instead heard the promising sounds of furious typing. This was a good sign. Shaking out her hands as if that would also shake out her nerves, she leaned around the half-open door and knocked.
“Hi, Dr. Franklin. Got a minute?”
Dr. Franklin’s head jerked up in surprise, and he blinked at her three times, as if he were getting his bearings. Reaching under his blue-light-reflecting computer glasses, he rubbed his eyes and said, “Yes. Hello, Samantha. Come in. How can I help?”
“Thanks.” Sam took a tentative step in and reminded herself that she did not need to feel bad for interrupting him. In fact, she’d just gotten the hospital almost a quarter of a million dollars in grant money. If it were her on the receiving end of that news, she’d be jumping for joy. “I know you got my email with the good news about the funding for the birthing program.”
“Uh-huh.” Dr. Franklin nodded. He didn’t look like he remembered this email at all.
Undeterred, Sam powered through. “Anyway, it looks like this program can officially take off. We just need a space—”
“Oh, I remember. This is the thing with the woo-woo birthing people.”
“You mean the program to make pregnancy support available to all people in our community?” She was trying to keep the irritation from her voice. She was also aware that she was failing. There were plenty of charlatans in the medical field, but what Sam was proposing wasn’t quackery. There was no need for Dr. Franklin to act like she was shilling $1,000 magnets to desperate people.
“Sure.” Dr. Franklin shrugged as if the details were irrelevant to his analysis, then said, “Isn’t today your day off? Why are you here?”
“Grant—I mean Dr. Gao—mentioned that you were looking for volunteers, and I thought, Well, I care about this place, and I need to talk to Dr. Franklin, so why not?” Sam shrugged, trying not to be taken aback that the attending even looked at the schedule, let alone knew when she was supposed to be in the hospital.
“All right, I get it. You care.” Dr. Franklin rolled his eyes and waved her off, but his expression had gone from exhausted to amused. “Enough blowing smoke. You came here to ask me to help you cut through all the red tape and find the program a room?”
“More or less.” Sam laughed. “We can share the room with another office; it just needs to be one that can transition into a classroom space or offer a bit of privacy for the doulas.”
“Such an easy ask,” Dr. Franklin mumbled.
“I know, but I’ve thought long and hard about this, and do we really want our future parents meeting in the covered parking lot?”
Dr. Franklin smirked at her joke. “If I recall correctly, the chaplains have been asking to fix up the space behind the chapel for some time. If you all would be willing to use some of your funds to fix it up, I think I could convince them to share.”
“We can do that.” Sam practically bounced to the end of her chair, she was so eager to make this work.
“Don’t get excited. The chapel is located in the old hospital wing, and I don’t think it has seen a renovation since I was in med school—”
“So ten years ago?” Sam grinned.
“Don’t push it. You are already getting what you want.” Dr. Franklin smiled, then let his expression grow serious. “Anyway, it is going to need some work. And I want to be clear that I’m holding you and Dr. Gao responsible for the program from start to finish. If so much as a speck of paint seems out of place, I will put a stop to this. The last thing this hospital needs is some new It Program nonsense to ding our reputation. Got it?”
“I completely understand, and I won’t let you down,” Sam said, feeling joy bubble up inside herself, despite his stern warning.
“All right then. Send me an email with your needs so I can forward it to our director of operations.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Dr. Franklin,” Sam said, jumping up from her chair before the attending had the chance to change his mind.
“After you send that email, head home, Dr. Holbrook. Tomorrow looks to be a busy one,” Dr. Franklin called after her.
Sam paused at the door and waved. “Of course, sir. Thank you for this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”
“Good night.” Dr. Franklin shook his head and half smiled before turning his attention back to his email.
Grinning like a cat that caught a mouse, Sam walked three steps away from the office door before bouncing up and down in a half dance, half skip. The interaction with Dr. Franklin hadn’t been nearly as bad as she had anticipated. In fact, if she had to grade it, she would give it a six out of ten. Not good but still above average. She should celebrate. She rounded the corner to the fellows’ office, trying to figure out what kind of takeout she could afford that also felt special. Whatever it was, she should probably order enough for Jehan and Duke. Remembering that she should text Grant, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Looking down, she quickly typed out,
It worked!
After hitting send, she tapped over to the group text to ask her roommates what they wanted for dinner.
“What worked?”
Sam jumped halfway out of her very practical running sneakers, clutching her phone with one hand and a stitch in her chest with the other. Standing halfway down the hall was Grant, holding his phone, the corners of his mouth turned up.
“This is the second time you have sent my heart racing. Are you trying to do this to me?” Sam asked, feeling her shoulders relax as she laughed.
“Not in this precise way, no.” Grant shrugged, his expression hovering somewhere between mischievous and matter of fact.
The image of him sweaty and shirtless rocked Sam’s consciousness so hard she had to close her eyes. She could imagine the feel of his breath on her neck, the feel of his skin against her own, electricity pulsing between them.
“Sam?”
The sound of his voice shot her back to reality. Forcing her eyes open wide, she looked at him and bit down hard on her lower lip to make herself focus. Until this moment, Sam had thought that a steamy fantasy flashing before someone’s eyes was only the stuff of TV shows. It was just unfortunate timing that she only learned the truth right now.
“You okay?”
“Ha. Yeah.” Sam’s laugh sounded as dazed as she felt. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Sorry, just spaced out.”
Spaced out? Sam kicked herself. As if she could space out with a walking sex dream in front of her.
“You just texted me that something worked?” Grant said, rolling his shoulders forward ever so slightly. For a brief moment, Sam wondered if he was also trying to find his footing with her and whatever their new, potentially less antagonistic relationship was at the moment.
“Yes! Your advice for managing Dr. Franklin worked. He is going to help with the room.” Sam was pleased with herself for sounding less breathless than she felt. Inside, it felt like she had sprinted a three-hour marathon.
“Oh. Good.” Grant’s eyebrows shot up with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected her to text over something so trivial, but he quickly masked the expression with his usual no-nonsense demeanor. Clearing his throat, he said, “So I actually hoped I’d run into you.”
“Why’s that? Trying to scare me to death so you won’t have to work with me on this project?”
“Not quite. At this rate, I think Duesa would make me do it without you, and that wouldn’t be any fun.” Grant laughed and shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about places that might work for your mom’s party. And I’ve got a couple in mind. If you want to go check them out, I think we both have next Thursday off.”
The word great was on the tip of Sam’s tongue when Jehan’s voice giving her a hard time echoed in her head. Given the unexpected energy that had passed between them, Sam couldn’t help but feel that her friend might have had a point. Perhaps Grant was going out of his way for her? She shouldn’t inconvenience him when he was already helping her with the program. “I think that—”
“We could also get ice cream to celebrate.” Grant was halfway through his rush to fill the silence when he winced, slowed down, and added, “Sorry. I’m from a family that talks over each other when we get excited. What were you going to say?”
Sam’s heart squeezed. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to Jehan. And really, what did her roommate know anyway? “Just that I think that sounds fun. And I love ice cream. And my family talks over each other too.”
