Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
She shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me at all. I’m sorry they’re pestering you.”
Anxious to change the subject, I force a smile. “So… what’s the rest of the day look like?”
Her expression brightens. “A full schedule! Just had a last-second add-on, so you have two new patients today.” She hurries around the desk, pressing her finger to the schedule where she’s written names. “I booked them for ninety minutes, like you asked. Oh, and don’t forget, I have to leave by five for Charlie’s cello lesson. But…” Sarah screws up her face. “Shoot. That means your last new patient won’t be here until five fifteen, after I’ve gone. Tell you what, I’ll stay a few after. I’d hate for a stranger to walk in when you’re all alone. Maybe he’ll come early—they usually do—and I’ll sneak out while you’re in session.”
Sarah’s done so much to keep my practice afloat already. “No, you should go. Take Charlie to his lesson. I’ll be okay. I’ll put the sign out and…” I shrug. “It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
The outer door creaks with another patient coming in, and I return to my office to finish my notes on Mrs. Amsterdam before my next patient is on the couch. Keeping busy is key. I can’t think about the book that just happened to arrive today or the group that wants my head. If I allow myself to dwell on things, I’ll be the one on the couch, curled in a ball, sucking my thumb.
Hours later, the sunlight slanting through the side window changes. That golden glow of late afternoon begins to fade toward early evening. My next-to-last patient waves goodbye, and I take a sip of herbal tea—a replacement for afternoon coffee, at Dr. Alexander’s suggestion.
One more appointment. A long one, though, since it’s another new patient.
I blow out a breath and reach for my appointment list, skimming down to the bottom until I find the name of the new patient Sarah has added.
But it can’t be correct.
Because the name that is handwritten in at the bottom of the typed list is…
Gabriel Wright.
I blink down at it and wipe my eyes, as though that will clear away an illusion. But no, the letters are still there, written in black ink, Sarah’s familiar bold cursive. My mind short-circuits, goes blank. And that’s when I realize what it is—a coincidence. It has to be. It’s not actually him.
Wright is a common last name. I went to med school with a Bianca Wright and had third grade with a Bobby Wright, before he moved away. New York probably has hundreds of Wrights. This is just one named Gabriel.
Yes, it’s definitely a coincidence.
Albeit a shocking one.
But one all the same.
I yank my laptop from my desk drawer. Sarah would have done an intake when she set up the appointment. Basic answers, like date of birth, address, and insurance, are stored in our computer system. That information will set my mind at ease. I type away, logging into the computer, finding the program icon, clicking into that system… While I wait for it to open, I fan myself, realizing I’ve gone hot with anxiety.
It can’t be him. It can’t be.
I pull up the new patient’s chart, navigate to the personal information tab, and feel ice slide down my spine as I read the address that’s been entered.
It’s no coincidence.
Gabriel Wright, the man I only recently stopped following, has made an appointment. I shake my head—it can’t be. It just… can’t.
But then a knock comes at the door.
A deep voice calls out, “Hello? Anyone home?”
I don’t move. I’m paralyzed with fear. I don’t even breathe. Long seconds tick by before another knock comes. This time, it’s followed by the creak of my door opening…
A familiar face peeks through, splitting into a grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t see anyone out there. I hope I’m in the right place. I’m here to see Dr. McCall?”
It takes me a second to find my voice. “Y-yes, that’s me.”
“Excellent.” He pushes the door open the rest of the way and stares straight into my eyes. “I’m Gabriel Wright.”
CHAPTER 13 Then
I really think this is a bad idea, Meredith. By not putting on any defense, the committee is going to assume you’re guilty of negligence. And they’ll set the punishment accordingly.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words from my attorney’s mouth. I knew he meant well. Martin Hastings worked at my brother’s firm. He only wanted what he thought was best for me.
“But I was negligent, Martin. I should’ve been more aware of what was going on with my own husband.”
“Maybe. But the charges are that you overprescribed by signing twenty-two prescriptions for your husband. You didn’t sign anything. There’s a big difference between not safeguarding a prescription pad located in your private home or office and the committee thinking you signed all those scripts.”