Heart Like Mine (33 page)

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She needed to make this a quick, clean cut. Otherwise, she was going to melt into a teary puddle before she got the words out that she needed to say.

“I think—we got ahead of ourselves a little, you know? And maybe we should have given it more thought before we went to Millie's.”

He sat back, jaw clenched. “What kind of thought, exactly?”

“The kind I've been having
since
the weekend. The kind that tells me—I don't know—that really, there's no way we could make something more than a secret-getaway weekend ever work.”

“Because?”

“Because a
lot
of things. But first and foremost, because of who you are … and what you do.”

He closed his eyes like he'd been stung, and guilt sliced through her.

“Seriously, Joshua, when you're not here at this hospital, you're working at Avery's House. I haven't actually figured out when you sleep, and that … that scares me.”

“Because you think I couldn't possibly make space for someone special?” His words were soft, but his jaw was anything but.

She shrugged slowly, freezing her shoulders as she spoke. “I think you'd
want
to, and you'd
intend
to … but when it comes right down to it, you're at the mercy of … Mercy.” She cringed, shaking her head. “I just don't think that right now, you'd really have time for a relationship, and I don't want to be the one making you feel guilty about that.”

“You know, I find it kind of remarkable that
you've
decided so much about
my
life.”

“I'm sorry. It's less about you than it is about me.”

He sighed. “I'd have expected a more original breakup line from you, honestly.”

“It's not a breakup line. We're not—we haven't—this isn't breaking up. We're not even—”

“Together?” His eyebrows went skyward. “In a relationship?”

She blew out a breath, misery making her chest hurt. “It was just one weekend, Joshua. A wonderful, sweet, fantastic weekend I'll never forget.”

“But not one you necessarily want to repeat.” He nodded. “I see.”

She looked at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. Instead, he sat there, silently nodding, looking like he was trying to compose his words, but failing. If he'd had nails to spit, she imagined he'd start firing any moment now.

She bumbled onward. “It's not you, Joshua. It really isn't. I just—I envision a future where I'm not having to fight for first place. And I … I just don't see that with you. I wouldn't want you to be a different doctor or person than you are today, but with me, I'm really afraid you'd think you had to be. I don't want to be the woman who ever makes you feel that way. And I don't want to get in any deeper if I already know where we'd end up.” She clenched her hands together under her desk, hating every word that was coming out of her mouth … hating the way each landed squarely on target. “I'm so, so sorry.”

He finally looked up. “Is this really about the personal end of things here? Or the professional one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did it somehow become clear to you over the past forty-eight hours that a relationship with me could put your career at risk?”

Delaney paused before answering him. Of course it had. But it was way more about
his
career than hers. She had a feeling that argument wasn't going to hold a drop of water, however.

She sighed. “Both of our careers could be at risk here, Joshua. We both know that. We've been around the block enough to know how internal investigations go. However the final recommendations come out, the black marks are permanent.”

Joshua stared across the desk at her for so long that she felt like she might break down and leap into his arms, spewing apologies. The truth was, in this moment, she could give a damn about her stupid career. She'd kiss it good-bye and bag groceries if it meant she could be with Joshua.

But his career was his
life
. And she couldn't be responsible for anything happening to
him
.

“So you've decided.” He crossed his arms.

She nodded slowly, knowing she needed to stay strong here, even though she was on the verge of melting into tears. “Be realistic, Joshua. You don't have time for a woman in your life. Not really. This would have happened eventually. We're saving ourselves from heading down the road farther than we already went.”

At her words, she saw a flush rise up his neck, and his bewildered expression turned to barely concealed anger. He stared at her for a long, long beat, then pushed himself out of the chair and covered the distance to the door in two long strides. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned back.

“Don't worry. If the board asks, I'll deny we've ever met.”

*   *   *

“Delaney? Let's have you start.” Margaret Stevens, the board chair, pointed a pen toward Delaney. It was ten o'clock on Wednesday morning, she was seated in an overchilled boardroom with Gregory, Kevin, and the nine members of the hospital board, and she had a strong suspicion she might be at her last day of work at Mercy Hospital.

She'd been sitting in her chair for twenty minutes now while Margaret went through the approvals of the last meeting's minutes, the agenda for today, and the introduction of some sort of new cash-out process in the hospital cafeteria that was supposed to save people thirty-three and a half seconds in line, therefore making them able to return to their posts more quickly.

She'd tried to tune out Margaret's voice, but it was like trying to ignore fingernails on a chalkboard. She felt sort of numb, like she couldn't quite process the last twenty-four hours. Last night, she'd rehashed her conversation with Joshua a million times, it felt like, and still, she had no idea whether she'd done the right thing. That moment when his hurt had turned to anger had made her shiver all night as she'd replayed it in her mind, and it had been all she could do to prepare for this meeting this morning.

But now she was here, in a suit that felt constrictive, heels that were far less comfortable than the Crocs she'd been wearing down on pediatrics, and layers of makeup that were doing a pretty poor job of covering up the circles under her eyes.

She caught Gregory's eye across the table, and he sent her a concerned look. She knew he was dead afraid of what this meeting was going to bring.

He wasn't the only one.

“Delaney?” Margaret's voice snapped at her. “Are you ready to present your proposal?”

Delaney took a deep breath. “Yes.”

It was now or never. She'd done her due diligence, and the fact that she'd happened to fall hard for the department head while she was doing so had no bearing on her final recommendations this morning. She was almost sure of it … but she also knew that it might be damn near impossible to convince the board of this.

She handed out copies of the proposal she'd printed out at four this morning, after brewing a fresh pot of coffee—her third of the night. She'd labored over the thing all night, and even though it was airtight, she knew it was going to be a tough—if not impossible—sell.

Once everyone had the papers, she launched into her presentation. She talked about her experience on the pediatric floor, talked about the personnel, talked about the patients. She talked about how she'd started two weeks ago with a list of items she thought could possibly be trimmed, and how each of those items had come off her list as she'd spent more time on the floor.

She talked about staffing models at other hospitals, demographics unique to Vermont, and every other thing she could think of to support her recommendations. Twenty minutes later, she put down her paper.

“In my professional opinion, after diligent research, that is my proposal.”

Dead silence greeted her words. As she looked around, no one met her eyes, not even Gregory. A full minute ticked by as people shuffled pages awkwardly. Then Margaret cleared her throat and looked over the top of her reading glasses at Delaney.

“Level funding? This is your proposal?”

“Yes.” Delaney nodded firmly.

“Despite your very clear direction to bring this budget into alignment with the figures you were given?”

Delaney took a deep breath. “Yes. For all the reasons I just stated.”

Margaret sat back, eyeing her. She took off her glasses, spinning them on her finger. It was all Delaney could do not to squirm under her gaze.

She could practically feel the question burning its way up Margaret's throat.

“Delaney, I do have a question for you. Regarding Dr. Joshua Mackenzie.” Delaney saw Gregory's head pop up as Margaret continued
.
“It has come to my attention—”

“Excuse me, if I may.” Kevin's voice broke in, and Delaney whipped her head around to look at him. He paused, giving her a look that very clearly said,
You're welcome. I'm totally about to save you here.

Margaret put her glasses back on, frowning. Nobody interrupted the board chair when she spoke. Not this board chair, anyway.

“Sorry.” Kevin put both hands up, the picture of innocence. “I'm really sorry to interrupt. I just have something that might diffuse the—tension—here. If I may?”

Margaret sighed. “Fine. What?”

Delaney's eyes widened at her snippy tone as Kevin stood up and adjusted his tie. He pulled some neatly stapled papers from a folder and sent them around the table, then gave his best sales smile.

“I finished up with my proposals a little bit early, and I knew Delaney was having some trouble with hers.” He sent her a sympathetic glance he must have practiced, and Delaney's blood began to simmer with suspicion. “After all, there's a lot of—emotion—tied up with pediatrics. Not an easy department to take things away from, for sure. So I thought I'd take a stab at it, just to see what I could come up with.”

What? He
had a proposal? For
her
department?

“Okay?” Margaret sounded suspiciously hopeful. “What did you come up with?”

Kevin smiled. “It's all detailed in the report, but I'll run through the items at a thirty-thousand-foot level. If you could open to page three, that's where the itemized list begins.”

As everyone at the long table shuffled to open their packets, Kevin sent Delaney a triumphant glance, and it was all she could do not to get up out of her chair, walk to the other side of the table, and strangle the cap-toothed, gel-haired life right out of him.

How dare he?

Once everyone was ready, he started running through the list, and she looked down at her copy, not even wanting to open it. But as his items began to echo things that she'd put on her own original list, her eyes narrowed. She flipped the pages open and scanned, and by the time she got to the bottom of page five, she knew her face probably resembled a cherry tomato.

The bastard had stolen her original proposal.

Her eyes met Gregory's, and he gave a quick shake of his head.
Don't rock the boat, Delaney
, it said.
You're getting off easy here. Margaret didn't even get a chance to ask her question.

Kevin continued through four more items on his list, then said, “Item number twelve—the child life specialist role.” He listed the salary-plus-benefits figure for Kenderly and the other specialist, then said, “From my research, I've concluded that though this role is hugely beneficial, it's not—in reality—a medically necessary position.”

Delaney was on her feet before she knew she was going to move, and all eyes shifted to her as she let her fist land on the table.

“Do you know what a child life specialist does, Kevin?”

He looked at her like she was off her meds, speaking like this in a board meeting, and she knew damn well that most of the board members probably echoed his supposition.

“Of course I know what they do. And I just said that I find their service very beneficial.”

“Have you ever met one?” She crossed her arms, her jaw set.

“Delaney,” Margaret spoke. “We heard you out. Let's please let Kevin continue.”

Delaney ignored her. “Have you ever,
Kevin
, met a child on the pediatric floor? Have you seen how all of the pieces of this pediatric equation work? Do you have
any
idea what goes into a pediatric hospitalization?”

Kevin took a deep breath, and she could see his jaw tighten. Then he visibly relaxed his shoulders and nodded sympathetically. “I'm sorry, Delaney. I know that none of us have the background you have with pediatrics. That's why”—he put up his hands in a well-rehearsed defeated motion—“that's why I thought maybe I could help with this. It's obviously very emotional for you.”

“Are you
kidding
me? This has
nothing
to do with my background, emotional or otherwise.” Delaney picked up the papers and waved them, letting her eyes scan the faces at the table. “This is
my
proposal. Mine. The one I put together before I spent the past two weeks on pediatrics. Before I had
any
clue how care is actually delivered in this hospital. I abandoned this proposal item by item, but Kevin somehow got a copy of it, and now he's presenting it as his own.”

“Delaney, please. This isn't necessary.” Kevin widened his eyes at Margaret in a help-me-here-there's-a-crazy-woman-in-the-room motion. “This is my own proposal. Maybe some of the items mirror things you came up with, but that's only natural.”

Delaney looked around, and as she took in the faces looking her way, she knew she'd lost them. She'd presented a proposal that asked for money that didn't exist. Kevin had done his magic, and they were firmly in his corner.