All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 11

The man who introduced himself as Dr. Lazzaro couldn't have been farther from what I'd expected. I was certain Isa had referred to him as her kindly old uncle, but this was no frizzle-haired, barrel-chested do-gooder. Recessed lighting overhead glinted off his Colgate smile, making it difficult not to squint when looking at him, and the ice-blue shirt he wore must have been hand-picked by his wardrobe consultant for what it did to the color of his skin. Every feature of his face was squared off, a comic book superhero come to life, right down to the cleft in the chin and the old-school Clark Kent haircut. Short and slicked back on the sides, longer on top, one thick curl dipping rebelliously over his left eye.

Good ol' Uncle Lazz. I almost snickered out loud. Apparently, the pain meds he'd given me were a little stronger than Tylenol, because I was finding it difficult to respond appropriately to my circumstances. And I wasn't feeling much pain, either.

"I want to show you the beautiful picture of your leg." He tacked a large X-ray to a lighted panel on the wall beside the exam table where I reclined, my left leg elevated on a pillow, encased in a cold gel pack. Instead of my pants, I wore a sheet wrapped tightly around my lower half. I'd had to remove them for the camera as they were too tight to roll up past my knee.

"I will give you the bad news first, then the good news, okay? It is good Isa brought you to me because the bad news is that your ankle is indeed broken, Miss Tomlin. This is a perfect example of a stable lateral malleolus fracture." With a long finger, he traced the slender bone that bracketed my shin bone. "Look right here. This bone is your fibula. It does not bear much of your weight, but it is easy to break when you twist your foot. Do you see the crack here?" Sure enough, a jagged line was scratched diagonally across the chalky image about half an inch above the end of the bone where it attached to the blocky bones of my ankle. "Now for the good news, yes? This fracture, because your ankle is still working properly, and your tibia—your shin bone—is intact, it is considered stable. If you take care of it, it will not require surgery, and not even a plaster."

He reached over and picked up one of my boots from the chair where his assistant had put them after helping me undress. My jeans were folded neatly beside them. "These boots are probably the reason you are not injured worse. I applaud your choice in footwear." Then he winked. "I like them very much. They are both strong and sexy, no?"

Just like me, I almost said out loud, clamping my lips together just in time. I nodded instead.

"Okay. So." He studied me with narrowed eyes, then swiveled to peer at the X-ray again, his lips pursing slightly.

Like a kiss.

I couldn't help it. I thought about being kissed by those lips. The longer he stared at my leg bones, the longer I stared at his lips. And the longer I thought about— he suddenly turned back, and I flinched, mortified. I could feel the heat rise in my face. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, and then one corner hitched up in what I could only assume was a knowing grin.

"So," he said again, drawing the word out. Steepling his hands together, he watched me, his eyes lit up by laughter. "What shall I do with you now, Miss Tomlin?"

It was my turn to stare at the X-ray. I shrugged, wondering if he actually expected an answer from me. "I—I don't know." Feeling incredibly vulnerable in my shirt and sheet, I refused to look at him.

"Give me one moment, okay? I will return shortly." He stood and left the room.

I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth. Three times for good measure. Then I double-checked the sheet around my waist, reassured that my modesty was still intact.