After the Storm (manxman)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

(Stephen's office reception desk)

Luis...

One week and three days of texting and periodic phone calls in between Stephen's extremely hectic schedule and my return trip back to the city, and I couldn't wait to see him again. I knew that burn patients are extremely fragile patients, and I had to say that the level of dedication Stephen gives to each and every one his patients endeared the man to me even more.

That's how I've come to find myself standing on the sidewalk in front of the main entrance to Doctor's Medical Center. The city's largest hospital and trauma facility, and  also last place I thought I'd ever voluntarily to come back to anytime so soon after Jackson's lengthy stay here in the private wing before I took him home where he wanted to be.

I felt kind of stupid fidgeting in front of the treatment center's massive sliding glass doors. I  shifted from one foot to the other while holding a picnic basket in my hands. It was procrastination at it's best. The sidewalk pedestrians started giving me funny looks as they passed me by. So, I took a deep breath to fortify my barely there courage and I took the steps necessary to my way through those doors.

I was immediately assaulted by the cooler atmosphere in the main lobby. I walked up to the visitor's desk and pulled my  driver's license out of my pocket and handed over to the bored looking security guard sitting behind the desk. I told him what floor I was going to and I waited for him to do his thing on the computer in front of him. The quietly piped music was the same as the last time I was here. My gaze swept over the pristine lobby and the medical staff and visitors alike mingled around the occupied the area, and browsed the gift shops. I checked my watch just to make sure I was going to be right on time to catch Stephen when he had some free time in between his patient rounds.

A friend of mine who I went to nursing school with worked here in hospital. Aubry was a Critical Care Nurse until he was promoted to Nurse Manager of one of the cardiac floors. We were still good friends even if we chose different paths in our careers. After graduation,  I went to work for a private outpatient medical center. The patients I took care of were usually wealthy and sometimes famous. They wanted someplace where their medical needs were taken care of  in private. A five star medical facility that guaranteed their anonymity. Aubry chose work at public hospital patient's bedside, and it worked out for him.

My shy little friend had met his delicious husband while working in the Intensive Care Unit. Aubry told me that his husband, Dr. Brad Malone was actually good friends with Stephen outside of work, and that they were great colleagues on the job as well seeing that they were both Directors of their designated areas of specialty.

Aubry had asked his husband to get me the information I needed in regards to Stephen's  daily routine. I wanted to surprise Stephen with lunch and even if he was too busy to spend some time out for me, then just getting the chance to look at him after missing him this past week would be enough for me, and that thought both thrilled and scared me to death at the same time.

I've been see sawing between worrying and wondering if I was rushing head first into something I wasn't ready for, and then I would remember the way I feel when Stephen holds me in those big strong arms, and the variety of pulse pounding emotions that assailed me knowing that the man desires me and wants only me. It was enough to make me forget about all my worries even if it's only for a little while.

The elevator doors swooshed open and a crowd of people got out of the car and I rushed into the lift with the influx of new passengers going to the various parts of the facility upstairs. I really hoped that Aubrey's information was correct and that Stephen was a creature of habit. The closer I got to his floor was the sweatier my palms became and I really had to tighten my grip on the handles of the basket.  I distracted myself with mentally cataloging the contents of our carefully prepared lunch.