Chapter 3 The Stranger Who Knew Her Name

Adrian Vaughn sat opposite her, was both familiar and foreign. Seven years had chipped away the rounded patina from his boyishness, etching into his face sharper lines. His jaw was more defined; she thought his dark brown hair was cropped a little shorter than she'd seen last, but his body was broader, more muscular. But those stormy blue eyes looked the same: piercing and inscrutable.

She must have imagined this encounter a thousand times. On the street, at some café, anywhere, with a questioning gaze. Confronting him directly, for sure, about having simply disappeared.

But she had never pictured that.

There was a single bewildered blink from Adrian, confusion sweeping over his face little by little before he finally spoke.

"You must be Doctor Camille?"

She felt a chill trace down her spine.

Doctor Camille?

He didn't know her.

He didn't recognize her.

All those years of writing to a ghost, longing for a man who vanished out of her life without a word, and now, with so much presence, sitting in front of her and looking straight into her eyes, he didn't even know whose name to call.

Something clenched in her heart, but she refused to show it.

Instead, she marshaled her thoughts and settled on looking gruff and distant.

"Yes," she said, placing the clipboard on the bedside table. "Dr. Camille Hart."

Adrian tilted his head slightly, his gaze strolling over her in mild interest.

"You look... young to be a doctor," he said, raising one brow. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

What he said bothered Camille.

Not so much what he said, but the way he said it; casual, amused, as if he were joking, playing her along.

The grip on the pen in her hand tightened.

"If it bothers you, I could get an intern, or a med student to treat you," she said, smoldering in irritation, her voice steady, "That is, if you really wish."

As she turned around, she could feel her heart beating heavier; emotions would have their way if she did not make a quick exit.

However, just as she reached the door, a voice broke the silence of the room.

"And what do you think, Hart? Where are you going?"

Camille felt her stomach drop.

The decision is to turn whether she has to turn to the other cheater or soul.

Standing in the doorway is Dr. Nathaniel Carter, arms crossed and eyes sharp as they flicker between her and Adrian. His presence instantly fills the room, heavy with authority and quiet disapproval.

Camille swallowed her discomfort and stood in her normal posture.

"The patient requested another medical practitioner," she said, and even kept her voice steady while saying those unwanted words.

Dr. Carter's brows arched slightly. "Oh? Did he?"

Dr. Carter turned his attention back to Adrian. "Is there a problem, Mr. Vaughn?"

Adrian shrugged a little in the hospital bed. "No problem, Doctor."

Camille felt her face redden, and she really had to exercise self-restraint and not to roll her eyes.

Nathaniel stepped closer, sifting through the patient's file in his hands.

"So, what happened?" he queried as he scanned the details.

Adrian shifted his injured arm and let out a sigh. "I fell and broke my arm."

That was it.

Camille had been secretly watching the whole thing when she suddenly couldn't stop herself from letting out a very quiet chuckle.

Not loud but very well echoed in the silence of the room.

Adrian's gaze snapped at her, brows knitting together furiously.

Dr. Carter, too, turned in her direction, his eyes hawk-sharp.

"Something funny, Hart?" he queried coolly.

Camille realized too late that, for once, she had been zoning out again even in the processing of everything, and as a result, did not even hear his question.

She cleared her throat, scrambling for an answer.

"Yes, uh... I said we might have to give him some morphine," she added.

Heavy silence descended into the air.

Adrian appeared to be entertained.

Nathaniel, however, was not amused.

He blew hard through his nose, shaking his head. Then, in low, precise tones, he said, "Hart, he has a fracture, not post-surgical pain. If you had been listening, you would know that."

Her jaw clenched.

"He needs acetaminophen for mild pain and a cast," added Nathaniel. "Call the nurse, and have it set up."

Then, with no further interest in her, he turned to Adrian. "I'll come check in on you later."

With that, Dr. Carter walked out without saying another word.

Leaving only her and Adrian.

Camille felt as if a chimera, a thick one, just settled like a heavy weight upon the two of them, suffocating the air they breathed.

Her pride was hurt because of the scolding in front of a patient; in fact, in front of this patient.

Fingers racing on the pager, Camille typed a message to the nurse's station, trying to pretend that she did not notice Adrian's hungry gaze upon her.

"So, Dr. Camille," came his voice after a moment, slow and ponderous. "What's your deal?"

She frowned, looking up. "My deal?"

He tilted his head, eyeing her. "You seem... tense. Almost like you don't want to be here."

Camille dry-laughed. "That's because I don't."

He smirked and shifted in bed. "So it's not just me, then."

With a deep breath and an annoyed crossing of arms, she said, "Mr. Carter, do you think we can just get on with this without endless talk?"

He raised a brow at her. "You really don't like me, huh?"

Camille stiffened.

That wasn't it.

Truth be told, she held far too many feelings concerning Adrian Vaughn : anger, confusion, loss. And now she had to stand in front of him-attractive, infuriating Adrian-who didn't even remember her life and make believe she was just another doctor.

Screaming was what she really wanted to do. Instead, she chose a shorter, coolly professional response.

"I really don't have an opinion about you."

Adrian hummed like he didn't take her word for it.

But before anything else blurted from his mouth, a nurse appeared, carting supplies to set his arm.

Camille pulled out of the way, watching the nurse work.

For now, she was safe.

For now, the conversation has ended.

But deep within Camille, an ominous feeling insinuated that this was only step number one of something much, much worse.