Cant't help falling in love (CAMREN)

CHAPTER 19

She waited outside while Camila's new doctor, Doctor Walsh, or so Marie called him, administered the tests, Marie with him. Dr. Walsh left first, his coat flapping around him. He didn't stop to tell Lauren anything, but Marie came out after a moment, her face worried.

"What's the matter with her?" Lauren asked, and Marie put her hands in the pocket of her long heather grey sweater.

"She's...we don't really know," was all she could say. "I'm sorry, Lauren, I can't really explain right now, I have rounds." She trotted off down the hall, and Lauren was left alone.

When she peeked into Camila's door, she was staring out the window again and Lauren slipped backwards, following where Dr. Walsh had gone. When he was nowhere to be found on the floor, she went down to the first floor. She needed food, she realized suddenly. She never remembered to eat these days. Camila teased she would get as thin as she did, though Lauren never found those jokes especially funny.

Lauren spotted the man sitting at one of the many cafeteria tables; he was poking at some kind of pasta, but mostly drinking calculated sips of steaming coffee. He was a drawn-looking man, with heavy bags under his eyes and thin, precise, hands. Though Lauren had only seen him from the back before, she knew he was the person she needed to talk to.

She didn't waste any time after that, navigating the crowded room as best she could until she was finally peering down at the doctor from the chair opposite her. The doctor nibbled on his issued breadstick, but didn't bother to look up at Lauren. From this proximity, Lauren saw that beside the plate was a kind of file, the manila folder folded and the neat white stacks of paper sitting on top, attached to the inner cover.

He flipped the page over and then motioned with his free hand at the empty chair.

"Don't hover. Sit."

The sound of the furniture scraping away at the tile floor was drowned out by the drone of occupants; nurses, patients, but mostly the displaced friends and family of said patients - and of course, the doctor in front of her.

Lauren glanced at his coat and saw the printed name tag clipped right above the pocket of his white doctor's coat. Dr. Walsh. She was right.

"I have some questions for you," Lauren began, glancing up from the words to the man's sharp face. His bone structure was alarming, and his black hair made his white skin even whiter. Lauren wondered how he wasn't confused for a mortician, not a man who saved lives.

"What makes you think I will answer them?" the man drawled, and then he stopped flipping through the papers and looked squarely into Lauren's face. "Though, I admit, it's charming how forward you are."

"You are Camila's doctor, and I have some questions about it."

Dr. Walsh's face dimmed considerably as he tilted his head in recognition of the name.

"Ah, so you're Lauren."

Lauren leaned forward in the chair, her hands folded in front of her.

"So what if I am?"

Dr. Walsh, surprisingly enough, cracked a smile.

"I was warned that you might be making an appearance at some point." He gave Lauren a once over and smirked. "It was also mentioned you might be concerned."

"Oh, I'm a little beyond concerned," Lauren growled, clenching her fists. Dr. Walsh took another small, calculated, bite of his breadstick and pasta and patted his mouth gently with the paper napkin from the dispenser beside him.