Maybe I’d been wrong about her. Maybe she was afraid for me because the whole idea appealed too much to her as a woman and she couldn’t stand to admit what that meant about her.
I didn’t know if we could ever be friends again, despite her apology, her epiphany and her being with Kurt.
Maybe Drake was right and someone like Dawn was too unpredictable to trust.
Only time would tell.
CHAPTER THREE
Drake
Three weeks passed very quickly and on the Thursday before we left, Michael sat down in the chair across from my desk. We had both been working our asses off to try to transfer over the last of my patients to other surgeons and prepare for my replacement. Even Sam had been working hard and hadn’t been pestering me nearly as much as before. In fact, I would have said she had a complete change of heart towards me for those last few weeks. She was completely collegial instead of assuming too much about our relationship.
It made my last weeks in Nairobi pleasant.
Across from me, Michael looked exhausted.
“Come to our house on Saturday night for cocktails and dinner. I’ve invited the rest of the faculty and the interns and residents who worked with you. They want to say goodbye and wish you two all the best.”
“Sam as well?” I asked, although I couldn’t imagine Michael wouldn’t invite her.
“Of course,” Michael smiled, assuming I had asked in a friendly way. “She said she wouldn’t miss it.”
I smiled at Michael, but inside, I tensed. Both Claire and Sam would be there. How would Kate react to that prospect? She hadn’t spoken to Claire since the art safari. Somehow, the four of us avoided socializing. Whenever Michael hinted at dinner, I would always find some excuse and finally, he gave up asking. Instead, the two of us had lunch together when we could find the time. I regretted it, for I had envisioned the four of us enjoying each other’s company when we had free time. It seemed so perfect at first – Michael and I would talk shop, while Kate and Claire could talk art.
Now, that was impossible.
I wasn’t sure if Michael knew what happened, but it seemed he didn’t want to cut me off from his life, and for that I was thankful. I didn’t hold him responsible for the machinations of his wife—a woman I once thought had my best interests at heart.
She probably thought she did, but her idea of what was best for me was wrong, and her willingness to manipulate Sam and Sefton and Kate to get it was unacceptable. I could never forgive her for it. It made me see her with new eyes. The matronly woman I always thought was so motherly towards me was being false and deceptive, pushing Sefton towards Kate. Hoping to ruin my relationship with Kate by pushing Sam at me.
I had half a mind to tell Michael about it but decided not to sour things between us, especially the last few days of my time at the hospital.
I opened my mouth to speak. “I don’t—.”
“Don’t say anything,” he said and held up his hand, not meeting my eyes. Then he turned to me. “Don’t worry about Claire,” he said softly. “She won’t be a problem. I’ve spoken with her about things and have straightened her out about you and Kate.”
A shock of adrenaline flowed through me that he knew about Claire. I tried to form a response, but struggled to come up with something. Finally, I found my voice.
“I’m sure Kate and I would be delighted to come over,” I said and cleared my throat. “What time?”
“The usual. Six thirty-ish for drinks and then dinner. I don’t know what Claire has organized for the caterer but it will probably be something local so you can take back memories of Nairobi cuisine.”
I nodded, putting on a pleased face, despite not being completely pleased with having to face both Claire and Sam. With that out of the way, we talked about hospital business, handing over cases and who would take on what patients. Once that was decided, Michael stood and turned to the door.
“I better go,” he said, an absentminded expression on his face. “Got an appointment with a family member. I need to read over the file before I go.”
With that, he opened the door and was going to leave without another word, but I felt bad and wanted to say something.
“Michael,” I said, and came around my desk. “Wait.”
He stopped, half in and half out of the doorway. He finally met my eyes, as if he was embarrassed at having to admit there was a problem with Claire.
“Thanks,” I said and extended my hand. “For everything.”
He smiled and we shook. Out of the blue, he pulled me into a brief embrace, then he left, closing the door behind him.
I sat back down behind my desk and tried to process this new tidbit of information. Had he wondered at last why I kept turning down his offers of dinner at his place? Had he confronted Claire? Did she say s