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"Dr Evans, you're needed on the phone. They have those results you were waiting for." Robby nodded over in the direction of the nurse's station.
"Oh, thank you," Dana said. She turned back to the sales rep and said with a smile, "I'm so sorry, you'll have to excuse me, thank you for stopping by, you have a good rest of your day."
At the station, Dana held the receiver Robby gave her up to her ear and mimed saying, "Uh huh, yeah, uh huh," until Robby said, "It's okay, he's gone."
Dana let out a sigh of relief that came all the way up from her toes. "Bless you."
"Any time, boss," Robby said, quirking his eyebrows at her over the top of his glasses. "You know, your facial expressions were giving me flashbacks to Laurie's wedding."
"Not quite that bad," Dana said wryly. Two and a half hours stuck in between a guy from Philly who'd been trying to get her to invest in his yoga pants MLM company and the tipsy wife of one of the hospital board members, all while being served overdone salmon and flat champagne and wishing she could kick off her high heels, was definitely a more painful experience than ten minutes of an incompetent hard sell from a sales rep who looked barely old enough to have graduated high school. "Just bad enough."
"So is your gratitude for my mitzvah big enough to make you finally sign off on—"
"You are aware it hasn't been half an hour since we finished cleaning up the aftermath of Gamma Mu Delta's ill-advised drunken attempt at a human pyramid?"
"I am, and I'm also aware that I sent you the Docusign links three days ago," Robby said in a sing-song-y tone. He waggled a tablet under her nose. "So now that the Humpty Dumpty pyramid bros have been reassembled and I selflessly, nay heroically, rescued you—"
"Jeez," Dana said, taking the tablet from him with a show of mock grumpiness. "Fine, fine, you got me."
"Thank you, Dr Evans," Robby said.
In the time it took Dana to log in to the website and work through the backlog of things needing her digital signature—truly, was this what she'd slogged her way through med school with a toddler in tow for?—Robby fielded two phone calls, got one of their long-term boarders finally sent up to orthopaedics, and checked in with Perlah about another one.
"You ever think about swapping jobs?" Dana said as she finished up and handed the tablet back to Robby. She tried to ignore the nagging awareness that the number of unread emails in her inbox was well over a hundred by now, that she still hadn't swung back to see how Mr Ramirez in Central 14 was doing, and that since she hadn't had to go to a coffee shop on her way in this morning, her caffeine withdrawal headache was building to a crescendo. She was sure there were reasons she had accepted the promotion, but right now she couldn't think of any.
"What, me be a doc and you the charge nurse?"
"Yeah," Dana said as she redid her ponytail.
"Not if you paid me," Robby said with great emphasis, setting the tablet back on its stand. "I mean, you could pay me more..."
"Very subtle," Dana said.
"That's me," Robby said, and then from beneath the desk he produced a travel mug that he set in front of Dana with a flourish. "Refuelling time."
Dana unscrewed the lid, breathed in deep, and let out a little moan. Robby's instinct for what she'd need and when she'd need it never failed. "Medium roast with a dash of cinnamon. I swear, if you weren't married already, I'd propose."
Robby's eyebrows rose. "I'd settle for the pay raise."
"Eh," Dana said, taking her first sip of hot, beautiful coffee. Delicious, and she swore that she could already feel her headache start to recede. "You're married to a doctor, you're doing just fine."
Robby gave a gasp of mock outrage and pressed a hand to his chest. "Dr Evans, are you implying that I'm a kept man?"
"You're a strong and independent professional who isn't defined by your choice of spouse," Dana said, repressing a grin.
"Shucks, you'll make me blush," Robby drawled, which would have been a more convincing comeback if Robby wasn't one of the most vicious blushers Dana had ever known. She had some of the more infamous photos from her own wedding to prove it, from when her idiot younger brothers, tipsy at the reception, had tried to auction off Dana's best man to the highest bidder. The photographer had captured Robby in all his mortified glory: less ink, more hair, and ears so red they could probably have been seen from space.
Dana drank off her coffee; checked in with Mr Ramirez, who was responding to the bronchodilators and whose leg had been expertly set by Samira and Mateo; signed off on Dennis' proposed plan of treatment for the twins in Central 3; oversaw an intubation in Trauma 1; dealt with a series of confusingly phrased messages from Ashley about the laundry and where her blue sweater was; promised Gloria that she really was invested in patient satisfaction scores, and yes, she shared her concerns; went to the rest room and peed out all of that coffee.
When Dana next swung by the nurse's station, the board seemed under control and Robby was deep in conversation with Princess. Judging by the pleasantly scandalised looks on both their faces, they were exchanging the good gossip. Dana had no doubt that it would percolate its way to her in time—as department chair, she was rarely people's first port of call for scuttlebutt anymore, but she still had her ways—so she opted for snagging a seat at an idle computer and catching up on some of her charting.
Dana got half way through the second chart, and everything crashed. She said something short and unprofessional. A heavily tattooed forearm snaked past her, tapped at a few keys, and the program relaunched, with almost all of the data she'd entered still there. Dana let out a sigh. "How do you even know how to do that?"
"The League of Charge Nurses would never forgive me if I gave away our secrets," Robby said in a stage whisper.
"Okay, fine," Dana said. "Consider the job swap offer rescinded. We're clearly both where we were meant to be."