Love in the ER

CHAPTER 11

The next morning at Salameda Health Care Center started like any other. Paris was making her usual rounds, checking patient charts, administering medications, and ensuring the day's shift would run smoothly. The familiar rhythm of the hospital was comforting in its own way, but after the unexpected ride home with Oliver the evening before, she couldn't shake the sense that something between them had shifted.

She hadn't expected to feel so nervous around him, but their conversation in the car had left her with more questions than answers. Was he really jealous of Mateo? And what did that mean for them now? She tried to push the thoughts aside as she focused on her work.

Just as she finished checking on one of her patients, Clara hurried over, her face tight with frustration. "Paris, we've got a situation in room 305. Mrs. Ramirez is not having it today. She's refusing treatment, snapping at the nurses... No one can calm her down."

Paris sighed, recognizing the name immediately. Mrs. Ramirez had been at the hospital for weeks, an elderly woman with a stubborn streak that made her difficult to deal with on the best of days. "Has anyone tried talking to her?" Paris asked.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Everyone has, but she's refusing to cooperate. She's upset because the doctors want to adjust her treatment, and she won't let them near her. Dr. Oliver's been trying to help, but she's not listening to him either."

The mention of Oliver made Paris's heart skip, but she didn't let it show. Of course, Oliver was involved. "Alright, I'll handle it," she said, already heading toward the room.

Clara smirked as she followed behind. "You know, everyone's already saying that you're the Mrs. Ramirez whisperer. You're the only one she listens to."

Paris shook her head with a small smile. "Let's hope that's still true today."

In room 305, Mrs. Ramirez sat on the edge of her hospital bed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, glaring at anyone who came near her. A nurse was trying to speak with her, but Mrs. Ramirez waved her off, muttering something under her breath.

And there was Dr. Oliver, standing nearby, his expression calm but tense. He was clearly trying to keep the situation under control, but it was obvious Mrs. Ramirez wasn't having it.

Paris stepped into the room quietly, and Oliver's eyes immediately flickered to her. His posture relaxed just slightly when he saw her, and something in his expression softened. Was he relieved to see her? Paris felt a flutter of nerves, but she focused on Mrs. Ramirez.

"Buenos días, Mrs. Ramirez," Paris said gently, moving to stand beside her. "What's going on today? You seem upset."

Mrs. Ramirez glanced up at Paris, her stern expression softening just a little. "These doctors," she muttered, "they want to change my medicine again. I don't like it. They don't listen to me."

Paris nodded, sitting down beside her on the bed. "I understand. It can be frustrating when things change, especially when you're not feeling well. But I promise, we're all just trying to help you feel better."

Mrs. Ramirez huffed, her eyes still narrowed. "I don't trust them."

Paris smiled softly. "But you trust me, right?"

Mrs. Ramirez hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. "You've always been good to me."

Paris glanced over at Oliver, who was watching her closely, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. There was a spark of something in his eyes—admiration? It made her pulse quicken, but she focused on Mrs. Ramirez again.

"I wouldn't let anyone do anything to you that would make things worse," Paris said gently. "Let's talk about the changes. I'll explain everything, and if you're still unsure, we'll figure it out together."

Mrs. Ramirez exhaled slowly, some of the tension in her body easing. "Alright. Explain it to me."

Paris smiled, relieved. She stood up and took the chart from Oliver, who handed it to her without a word, though the small smile on his face didn't go unnoticed. She quickly reviewed the new treatment plan and began explaining it to Mrs. Ramirez in simpler terms, making sure she understood every detail.

As Paris spoke, Mrs. Ramirez nodded slowly, asking questions here and there but seeming far more at ease than she had been with anyone else. After a few minutes, the older woman finally sighed and said, "Okay, if you think it's best, Paris. I trust you."

Paris smiled warmly. "Thank you, Mrs. Ramirez. I promise we'll take good care of you."

The older woman relaxed back into her pillows, her expression far calmer than it had been when Paris first walked in. The tension in the room eased, and Paris could feel the shift. Crisis averted.

As Paris finished up and Mrs. Ramirez settled into bed, Oliver stepped forward, his voice quiet but warm. "Thank you, Paris. I've been trying to get through to her all morning, but she wasn't having it."

Paris shrugged, trying to play it off, but her heart fluttered at the praise. "It's nothing. She just needed someone to talk to her, that's all."

Oliver smiled, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. "You have a way with patients. I'm... impressed."

Paris felt her cheeks warm slightly under his gaze, and she quickly turned her attention back to Mrs. Ramirez. "It's just about listening. She's scared, and no one's really explained things to her in a way she can understand."

Oliver nodded, though there was a glint of admiration in his eyes that made Paris's pulse quicken. Why was he looking at her like that? She didn't want to read too much into it, but it was hard to ignore the way his presence made her feel—like she was suddenly the most important person in the room.

"Well, whatever it is," Oliver said, his voice low, "it worked. You really know how to handle these situations."

Paris smiled softly, feeling a mixture of pride and nerves. "It's just part of the job."

Oliver's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something else, but instead, he simply nodded and stepped back. "I'll let you finish up. Thanks again for your help."

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Paris standing there with a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. What was happening between them? She wasn't sure, but there was no denying that something had changed.

As she gathered her things and prepared to move on to her next patient, she couldn't stop thinking about the way Oliver had looked at her—thrilled, admiring, and maybe even a little bit more.