No Complaints

You know me so well. Better than I think anyone else. And I play off of that every chance I get.

You are waiting for me when I walk out of the operating room, but of course, only I know that. We're still a "secret." I gave you a ring just last night, getting down on one knee and everything. You don't realize, but it broke my heart when I watched you take it off just this morning. "No one needs to know just yet. Let it just be our secret for now."

And I agreed. I can't ever argue with you.

Now we walk down the hallway after a long surgery and all I want to do is grab you and hold you. I want to lose myself in your smell and in the comfort of being in your arms.

But I keep myself under control. I rub my neck tiredly and I grab the closest patient chart, keeping my hands busy.

She walks up to me first, giving me that smile I have seen time and time again. I glance at you waiting for the icy glare and I'm surprised to see you deep in a conversation of your own; with that young new doctor that you know I don't like.

I'm jealous. But I'll never give you the satisfaction of knowing it. Even now.

The nurse in front of me continues rambling about the cafeteria lunches or some other boring information I don't care too much about, while all my attention is concentrated on you.

You're so beautiful. But I told you that already today. When we woke up and your hair was a mess and you didn't have any makeup on.

My name is called over the intercom but I don't want to move. I want to keep an eye on this hot shot doctor. Who does he think he is anyway?

I stalk away, catching your glance in my direction and that silly smile written all over your face.

--

When I walk in the door late that night, you are waiting up for me ready with a smile and a kiss. Suddenly the stress of the day disappears. I forget that I lost a patient today. I forget that I have to return to that same place and the same people tomorrow. Right now all of my attention is on you.

We walk to the couch holding hands, and snuggle close together. No words are spoken out of fear of ruining our moment, our time together.

You tell me later that we are to go to your uncle's house for dinner. We're going to break the news; tell them we're engaged.

An hour or two later we are walking through the door of Mac's house; the laughing voices being heard right away. I won't lie, I'm nervous. I'm not exactly who they all envisioned you spending your life with.

We are seated next to each other at the table, our plates full of food begging to be eaten. But you think it's the perfect time to tell your family our great news. Somehow I don't agree. But of course, I go along with you. They are your family after all.

Your eyes light up with joy and all my reservations float away. "We're getting married." The words flow from your mouth and I wait for the crash.

We're getting married. I'm marrying you, the love of my life. The surprising congratulations are passed around and your drug into the planning by your aunt and cousins before dinner is even finished.

When we leave an hour later, you have a promised lunch date with those three lovely ladies and internet print offs of wedding dresses, that I of course can't see.

We climb into the car, me driving and you in the passenger seat and head for home. Somehow our hands find each other and our fingers lock. You have changed me. We have changed together; I believe for the better. But I don't mind.

I have no complaints.