At the pinnacle of her career, orthopedic surgeon Ava King conquers the lucrative medical field of London.
A wild and intimate night with competitive Formula One driver James Ellis ends with Ava being stood up. The rejection leads her straight into...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I haven't heard a peep from James all week; on one hand I'm glad he's giving me space to figure my shit out. On the other, seeing him on Saturday only made me want to see more of him.
My practice has been inundated with flowers and gifts from Gabriel; to the point where I've started handing them out to patients during ward rounds. It's actually a nice touch.
I've sent back his bribes: designer bags and watches, clothing and shoes. Fuck that, I can buy my own shit.
He's left me a string of voicemails, begging for forgiveness and another chance, saying he's back in therapy. Good, Jesus knows he needs help. On that note, I hope he's found JC, too.
As much as I'm not Ray Charles to the bullshit, I hate that I want to give him a chance to explain himself, only because it was quite cathartic after James explained his actions. But Gabriel is one giant crimson flag. It's not so much the jealous fit of rage that gets me, it's that he was turned on by being aggressive with me.
I've figured I was probably using Gabriel as a crutch, avoidance has always been my issue. I like James. Way more than I should. Gabriel distracts me from that.
After Daniel, my heart and life can't take another beating. James has the potential to break my heart. And if his outburst and the hole in my front door (which cost me a brand new fucking oak door), Gabriel has the potential to break a lot more.
Jeez, aren't I a magnet for drama?
Maybe it's penance for the shit I gave Daniel. I was the one who made selfish decisions, who put my career first instead of helping my best friend. And when he had his one moment of desperation which caused a terrible cascade of events, I couldn't forgive him, and I delivered the final nail in his coffin.
He doesn't even know Adam is his.
Anyway, that's the rainy day story... which, by the way, is every damned day in London. February has brought with it infamous bouts of black ice. I've fallen behind on elective surgeries due to the amount of trauma and emergency cases we've had thanks to car and biking accidents. I only had one day this week to consult and see patients at my practice and the rest is has been all chop chop chop.
But I love it.
I welcome Sunday with open arms. Lazing in, sweatpants weather, and eating way too much food. I'm curled up on the couch, watching some LEGO movie or other with Adam, as he attempts to build his own LEGO world, while my folks relax on the other couch. Sunday is family day so my parents came over as it was my turn to cook lunch and we had a lovely Thai prawn curry, and pavlova for dessert. And it's about that time of the afternoon when my eyes feel increasingly heavy.
Maggies vol. Oogies toe.
It's an Afrikaans proverb: stomach full, eyes closed.
As I start to feel my body relax, I'm awoken by an incoming call from Gianna. We missed our date this week because I was extremely busy. But I am too tired for Gianna's energy today. I mute the call and make a mental, albeit sleepy, note to call her back later.
