Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
* * *
“Did something happen?” she asked, taking the seat to my right. “With you and Mr. Dumont? You both looked so happy in the Bahamas.” Her face is tight, and I realize that she has been living my fairytale right along with me, the tabloids her peephole into our world.
* * *
I sigh. “Yes.” I can’t generate much more conversation than that, and she takes her cue and lets me be.
CHAPTER 54
I check into a Residence Inn three blocks from Crestridge, and spend the first few days at my father’s side. He is overjoyed about the constant companionship, but seems worried, his watery eyes often on me, his mouth frowning without him even aware of it. Whenever I catch him watching, he straightens, fixes his mouth into a smile, and reaches out to grip my hand.
* * *
I will tell him soon. I just can’t right now. It’s too soon, and I won’t be able to speak without crying.
* * *
Today, I have a meeting with the billing department at Crestridge, then a realtor. I need to find an apartment, preferably one with room for my father—should he ever improve enough to leave the hospital.
* * *
I pull into Crestridge, following the long, curved drive, my eyes picking up on all of the details that combine to create exorbitant billing. A huge gated estate with acres of gardens and rolling lawns, in an area known for high property values and ridiculous taxes, the security guard who waves me through with a familiar hand. The building, a complex that houses four floors of cutting-edge medical technology, a cafeteria that puts Ruth’s Chris to shame, and a patient-to-staff ratio that defies all financial logic.
* * *
I am reminded, with every glance, at how much this all costs. I am reminded of Nathan’s obligation, and my fear that he will default on our contract. I park in front of the building, and reach for my purse, willing my nerves to still.
* * *
Third floor. The elevator doors open to a place that reeks of obligations. I am cheerfully greeted by a receptionist and ushered to Mr. Hinton’s office.
* * *
The man, one tall and thin enough to be a basketball player, looks up with a smile, taking off his glasses and standing to shake my hand.
* * *
“Mrs. Dumont, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I take it that you are here to confirm the payment?”
* * *
I pause, halfway to my seat. “The payment?” I hadn’t exactly had a clear reason for coming, other than to find out the status, and current balance, on my father’s account.
* * *
He tilts his head, squinting at me slightly. “Yes. I assumed you knew. Your husband called earlier, and made a payment on Mr. Tapers’s account.”
* * *
Your husband. The title stabs me in a way that I thought I was insusceptible to. I settle into the seat and force a smile. “Mr. Hinton, you should know that Mr. Dumont and I are separated, soon to be divorced, though I hope that he continues the payments on this account.”
* * *
He shakes his head slightly. “There shouldn’t be any future payments. Mr. Dumont made a deposit that should cover at least three years’ worth of treatment.”
* * *
My mouth drops open. “Three years?”
* * *
“Yes. It’s a little unorthodox, but should your father’s health improve to a level where he can leave, I assured him we would refund him the credit.”
* * *
I hate him for this. I hate him for keeping his promise, and giving me another reason to love him. My fear had been something to lean on, to hold against him in the lonely night when my heart is weak. I should be happy that he’s kept his promise. But I feel sick, disgusted with the weakness of my heart and the inability to block him from my mind.
* * *
His mouth on mine.
His body over me, hands upon me, the trail of his fingers across my skin.
His eyes when they soften and look at me like I am whole.
His voice when it grows gruff and intimate, when it says words that make me swoon.
* * *
I thank Mr. Hinton for his time, and stand, moving unsteadily down the hall toward the elevators.
NATHAN
She sits at the bathroom counter, sitting forward at the chair, her face close to the mirror, a makeup brush in hand. Her hair is down, in blonde ringlets that lay against her bare back.
* * *
He sits back against the counter and watches her, his arms crossed over his chest. It is so foreign to have her here. To smell her perfume, to watch the familiar curves of her body step from the shower, to hear the gasp of her breath when he pushes inside of her. He straightens, moving off the edge of the counter and toward her, stopping behind her, his hands threading through the strands of her hair. She flinches, moving away from him. “Stop, you’ll mess it up.”