The Other Mrs. Hayes

Back in New York, my first surgery was on a young woman with fibroids.

While signing the consent form,

she was still whining to her boyfriend on the phone.

“It’s literally a minor procedure. Did you really ditch a huge deal and fly back from London for this?”

“And stop buying me bags and jewelry. I seriously have no room left.”

She handed me the form. My eyes landed on the emergency contact line.

Ethan Hayes.

Same name as my boyfriend.

I smiled politely. “What a coincidence.”

She took my hand, looking utterly innocent.

“Doctor, are all guys named Ethan this obsessed?”