Doctor in red
Chapter 1
ROXANNE’S POV
Harvey Woods Memorial Hospital was already a madhouse, and it wasn't even 7:00 AM yet.
Longwood Medical Area is always a nightmare to navigate, but this morning, the parking lot looked like it was overflowing.
I watched nurses rushing across the asphalt, clutching giant coffees like lifelines, while residents dragged their feet toward the sliding doors.
In a few parked cars, I caught glimpses of anxious families just sitting there, probably trying to psych themselves up before heading inside.
I pulled into my usual spot on the third level, killed the engine, and just rested my forehead against the steering wheel for a second.
“Another day. Here we go.”
Out the window, the helipad was empty, but in this place, that could change in a heartbeat.
I’ve seen choppers drop out of the sky with critical trauma patients, the medical teams already sprinting out before the rotors even stop spinning.
Around here, you don’t measure life in hours—you measure it in seconds.
And the heroes don’t wear capes; they wear faded surgical scrubs.
The lobby was pure chaos when I finally walked through the doors.
Every single seat was taken, a kid was crying near the front desk, and the air smelled like that heavy, slightly depressing mix of hospital disinfectant and fresh coffee.
By the time I made it up to the sixth floor, Marie was already buried behind the reception desk.
"Morning, Dr. Barrett."
She didn't even look up, just spun her monitor around so I could see my schedule.
It was a total bloodbath. Consultations, back-to-back surgeries, follow-ups, and a mountain of charting. I couldn't help but flinch.
"You look totally wiped," she said, giving me a sympathetic look.
"I'm fine, just the usual," I lied automatically.
She smiled, obviously not buying it, and slid a coffee across the counter.
Extra sugar, exactly how I like it.
"You know me way too well."
"I try," she winked.
I took a massive sip, feeling instantly grateful, and walked down the hall toward my office.
But the second I pushed the glass door open, I froze.
Elise was sitting right in my desk chair, totally sprawled out with her laptop open like she owned the place.
"Good morning to you too," I said, leaning against the door frame. "Care to explain why you're hijacking my office this early?"
Without even looking up from her screen, she said, "I'm here to make sure you don't blow off dinner with your husband."
My stomach instantly dropped.
Oh, God. I’d completely forgotten.
"Elise, I have a killer day," I groaned, running a hand over my face. "I've got morning rounds, a massive head trauma case, consults, endless paperwork..."
Elise finally looked up, and her expression was deadpan.
"You didn't even talk to David yesterday because you buried yourself in charts."
She crossed her arms, letting that sink in. "Meanwhile, the guy booked a table at one of the best spots in Boston and emailed you the reservation yesterday afternoon."
My mouth fell open. The guilt hit me like a physical punch. "I... I didn't see it."
No excuse I could come up with was going to sound good, and I knew it.
Seeing my face, her strict expression melted.
"Lucky for you, you have me." She nodded toward a beautifully wrapped box sitting on the corner of my desk.
"I already talked to Desmond. He’s covering your surgery today."
I blinked, totally thrown off. "Wait, you did what?"
"And I bought you something."
I rushed over, practically tearing the ribbon off the box. Inside was a stunning, heavy red satin gown. The fabric practically glowed under the harsh fluorescent office lights.
"Wow. It’s gorgeous."
"I know. I have impeccable taste."
A wave of relief and emotion hit me, and I reached out to grab her hands. "Seriously, what would I do without you?"
She gave me one of those rare, genuine smiles she usually keeps locked away. "I ask myself that every single day."
I couldn't help but laugh. Looking at her, I suddenly remembered how we actually met.
Years ago, I almost lost my entire career after operating on a fifty-year-old woman named Anita.
She’d come in with horrific head trauma, and I spent six grueling hours trying to piece her back together.
Right before we rolled her into the OR, her husband, Derrick, had gripped my hands so hard his fingers were shaking. “Please,” he’d begged me, tears in his eyes. “Just save my wife.”
During the procedure, Anita’s heart stopped. Her chart had a clear Do Not Resuscitate order, but in that split second, with Derrick's voice ringing in my head, I made the call to revive her.
She survived. And then she turned around and sued me.
She wanted two million dollars for violating her medical directive.
We eventually settled for one, but the hospital investigation nearly broke me.
Through every single agonizing deposition, every terrifying hearing, and every sleepless night, Elise was right there.
She defended me when the rest of the board was ready to throw me to the wolves.
Somewhere in the middle of all that trauma, my lawyer became my absolute best friend.
"Earth to Roxanne. You should try it on," she said, snapping me out of my head.
I grabbed the dress and ducked into my private bathroom.
A few minutes later, I stepped in front of the full-length mirror.
The woman looking back at me was a stranger. The red satin hugged me in all the right places, and the thigh-high slit and delicate straps instantly wiped away the exhausted, overworked surgeon.
For months, I had lived exclusively in baggy scrubs and stiff lab coats. I’d completely forgotten what it felt like to actually feel beautiful.
When I walked back out, Elise just stared at me for a second before giving a firm, satisfied nod.
"Perfect. I’ll be back at two to do your hair." She pointed a strict finger at my desk. "Until then, stop staring at yourself and get to work on those reports."
Laughing, I changed back into my scrubs and dove into my workload.
The next few hours were a total blur. I ran through morning rounds, checked on patients, reviewed scans, signed off on charts, and dictated reports until my phone finally buzzed.
It was Elise. Two o'clock on the dot.
I hurried back into the bathroom and threw the gown back on, struggling with the last strap just as she walked in carrying a massive makeup bag.
"Sit," she ordered.
Within minutes, she had my hair pinned up into this effortlessly elegant, messy bun, leaving a few loose curls framing my face.
She did my makeup, threw on a bold red lipstick that matched the dress, handed me some pearl drop earrings, and gently clasped a delicate gold necklace around my neck.
It rested right against my collarbone. I touched the tiny heart charm and realized it was engraved with my name.
"Elise... it’s perfect."
"I know it is."
She stepped back to inspect her work, then ducked out to her office and returned with a pair of killer gold heels.
"Thank God we wear the same shoe size."
They slid on like they were custom-made.
I couldn't help it—my eyes welled up, and I threw my arms around her in a tight hug. "Thank you. Really."
She squeezed me back before pulling away with a smile. "Go. You deserve a good night out with your husband."
I took a deep breath, looking at my reflection one last time. I really hoped she was right.
