Resisting Her Ex's Touch. Amber Mckenzie

       CHAPTER ONE

      HER HEART POUNDED against her chest, keeping cadence with the rhythm her heeled boots made against the linoleum floor. She had everything to lose and little to no control over an outcome that was going to decide her future. Some people would take comfort in knowing they were in the right and hadn’t done anything wrong, but not Dr. Kate Spence. She had learned early in life that bad things happened whether you deserved them or not.

      She walked through the corridors of Boston General with reluctant determination. For the first time in five years she felt out of place in the hospital. She was used to being in her element, dressed in surgical scrubs with her entire focus on her job as a general surgery resident. Today was different. Every fiber of her being was on alert and she was conscious of waiting for the intense foreboding sensation that had come over her in the past several weeks to be fulfilled.

      After years of school and sacrifice, Kate had almost made it. She had made it as a doctor, as a surgeon, and in three months’ time would be starting a fellowship in New York, in one of the most acclaimed hospitals in the country. She had three months left of residency and then she was done in Boston and on her way to New York to complete her final training and have a second chance at a new beginning.

      They had called it a strategy meeting, whatever that was supposed to mean. The only thing that had registered with Kate was that they were going to have to talk about “that night” and the guilt was overwhelming.

      Kate took a deep breath and tried to gather her mind and her facial expression into that of the composed professional she was widely regarded as being. She was the chief resident of general surgery in one of the nation’s top five surgical programs. She arrived at work no later than five-thirty every morning and was never home before seven—and that was on evenings when she got home, because most nights she stayed and operated. Being in the operating room, fixing people, had become her salvation in life. She loved the feeling of working meticulously at something, never knowing what challenges lay inside and pushing herself to overcome all the difficulties and limitations that could arise.

      In a place where things could easily get out of control, Kate felt the most in control, confident in her ability to get the job done and do what was needed for her patient.

      Kate pushed through the frosted glass door leading to The conference room and took in the scene. Sitting at the large wooden conference table were all of the expected people. The hospital’s chief executive officer, lawyer, chief of staff, and Dr. Tate Reed, Vascular Surgeon, her co-defendant and ex-boyfriend as of six months ago.

      She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it still hurt more than she had prepared herself for. No one liked facing their own mistakes and Kate rarely made mistakes. She had taken an oath to do no harm and had promised herself years ago that she would never be responsible for causing someone she loved pain, and she hadn’t until Tate. It had been six months and every day she regretted what had happened between them. She had never fallen in love with him and that horrible night she had been forced to accept that he wasn’t the man for her no matter how hard she had tried to feel otherwise.

      When she walked in, every face peered up at her with acknowledgement, except for one, who refused to acknowledge her presence.

      “Good afternoon Dr. Spence, please take a seat,” Dr. Williamson, the chief of staff instructed.

      Then and only then did he look up and their eyes meet. The same combination of hurt and anger that had been there six months earlier stared back at her. The worst part was that she knew she deserved it. She felt every muscle in her face strain as she struggled to maintain a neutral expression and conceal the feelings of hurt and regret she felt every time she thought of Tate.

      Kate walked towards one of the two empty places at the conference table, choosing the one farthest from Tate. She sat down in the leather chair and wished she could just keep sinking. She looked away and focused her gaze towards the other men, reminding herself that she needed to stay confident and collected. She was the only woman in a room full of the hospital’s most prominent male leaders. There would be plenty of time for guilt and remorse to torture her thoughts later, without an audience.

      Jeff Sutherland, the hospital’s lawyer, started the meeting. “As you all know, four weeks ago Boston General, Dr. Reed, Dr. Spence and several other hospital personnel were served with a multimillion-dollar lawsuit for wrongful death on behalf of the Weber family. The lawsuit alleges that there was a critical delay in Mr. Weber reaching the operating room, which lead to his death, and that had he received more timely medical and surgical attention he could have survived his condition.”

      “They’re wrong,” Tate responded unequivocally.

      Jeff looked up briefly, but continued. “In their affidavit, the Weber family alleges there was a twenty-minute delay and critical time lost between the diagnosis of Michael Weber’s ruptured aortic aneurysm and Dr. Spence’s ability to locate Dr. Reed and communicate the findings. Mr. Weber subsequently did not reach the operating room until fifty-five minutes following diagnosis, and by that time was so unstable that he did not survive attempts made by Dr. Reed to repair the aneurysm.”

      “He was never going to survive,” Kate said. She replayed the images of the night in her mind, as she had a countless number of times. That night the happiness then the devastation, the genuine love, followed by pain and loss, had been heartbreaking. It had been the first and only time she had ever wanted out of a case, not to be in the operating room. Working across the table from Tate, knowing it was hopeless, knowing there was nothing left for Mr. Weber or for them. For the first time in her career she had felt like a coward because she hadn’t been able to bring herself to confront Tate with the futility of their actions. She didn’t know if it had been because of what had happened between them or if it had been because on that night she had been unable to bear the prospect of telling Mrs. Weber the man she loved was gone.

      Dr. Williamson spoke. “Tate, I have reviewed this case, and in my medical opinion and in the opinion of this hospital you acted in an appropriate and timely manner in your complete care of Mr. Weber. His condition was such that even with immediate surgical intervention he was unlikely to have survived such an extensive rupture. Most vascular surgeons would not have even attempted surgical management, and unfortunately because you did you are now the target of the family’s grief.”

      Kate exhaled for what felt like the first time since she had entered the room, grateful for a small reprieve from the nightmare.

      “Thank you, David. I appreciate your support,” Tate replied.

      She glanced up to look at Tate, her first instinct to share their sense of relief, but he wasn’t looking at her. Her relief that the chief of staff was on their side quickly left her when she remembered there was no “their” any more and that had been her choice.

      She focused her attention on the chief of staff, once again mentally trying to separate her professional and personal lives. The problem was that Tate had been both. Between the demands of the hospital and the need to study whenever she wasn’t at the hospital she didn’t have time for a social life, but Tate had come as the complete package. They had become colleagues, then friends, and eventually lovers. Everyone had thought they were a perfect match, everyone except Kate.

      Kate was forced to refocus when Dr. Williamson began speaking again.

      “Unfortunately, Tate, it is more than my opinion that counts in this matter. The Weber family has been able to document and produce several witnesses who verify a twenty-minute delay in your response to Kate’s repeated attempts to make contact that night. It is this evidence that has led the family to believe they have a case, and despite several medical experts, who all agree that Mr. Weber’s condition was medically and surgically futile, they are bent on having this matter argued in court.”

      Kate could not think of anything she wanted less and felt her stomach heave with the implications of a court hearing. The events of that night were completely entwined with every personal and