Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Fifteen

💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead (over 100 chapters) by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

💗💗💗

He reaches for a frameless pair of glasses and puts them on with a single hand while grabbing my folder with the other. The action is so effortless and yet so meticulous at the same time. I find myself staring at his hands for a moment, noticing their incredible structure and size. His fingers have a certain elegance about them, like they can wield magic or something.

Well, he is a surgeon, so I guess that's technically true on some level.

"Ramona Gallo," he says as he looks at the first page of my form. The incredible depth of his voice sends a bolt of shivers down my spine, catching me off guard. I find myself wanting him to say my name again, and I think I'm even more surprised by that reaction.

I frown at myself, feeling like I need a good hard knock on the head to get my mind right. I'm in a doctor's office, for crying out loud. Considering my history, this is the last place on Earth I should ever feel anything other than dread or disgust.

"You're Italian?" he asks, but his attention is still on my form.

I nod my head as if he's looking. "Uh, yes. Partially," I say hoarsely. I need to clear my throat before speaking again. "My dad was Italian and my mom was Bajan."

He turns his face toward me, an unusually curious expression showing through his perfect features.

"Was?" he asks.

It's a simple question, but carries so much weight for me that I feel like I've been kicked in the gut with a pair of heavy metal boots. I feel myself struggling to swallow before I can say anything else.

"Yeah. They both passed away," I simply offer.

A hollowness fills me as I sit still in the firm leather chair, trying hard to not let my emotions get the better of me.

His expression turns slightly somber as he continues to look at me. The look is unmistakable.

Great. He feels sorry for me. He feels the one thing I absolutely can't stand and don't want from anyone; pity.

"I'm sorry," he offers.

"It's okay," I quickly say. There's a slight hostility and a hint of anger in my voice when I say it, and I know I shouldn't be so defensive with him about the topic. He doesn't deserve my wrath. All he did was offer a polite and empathetic gesture.

That's what you do when someone tells you they've lost someone, I internally scold myself. You empathize with them! It's common courtesy, Roni. No big deal.

"I used to be really good friends with a Daniel Gallo way back in the day," he says, smiling. "A marine. Really nice guy. You wouldn't happen to know him, would you?"

My eyes widen at the mention of that name. It takes me a few seconds before I can answer. "Uh...y-yeah. Danny's my, uh, my half-brother."

He raises his eyebrows, seemingly just as surprised by the coincidence as I am.

"Is that so? I thought you looked a little like him," he says. "I've known him a long time, but I had no idea he had another sister."

He looks at me intently again, as if trying to really confirm our resemblance, his eyes sweeping over my figure and burning holes into my flesh. I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with his prolonged gaze.

"How is he?" he asks, finally breaking his stare.

I shrug. "I'm not exactly sure. We don't really talk that often."