Marcus went on, “I didn’t tell you that I’ve known Sadie for ten years and I’ve known what kind of woman she was since I first saw her. I didn’t tell you that she would no more talk about you behind your back than I would.”
Marcus watched his wife’s face grow pale.
He continued, “I also didn’t tell you that after you thought she did, she called the house and came by and tried to explain and I didn’t let her.”
That’s when Marcus watched his wife’s face go red.
He carried on, “Then I forced her father to warn her off.” When Daisy’s face looked in danger of turning purple, Marcus kept explaining (quickly). “I did it to protect you.”
Daisy’s brows were drawn and her eyes were narrowed when she said, “Is that it?”
“No.”
“Well then, finish it.”
Marcus blew out a sigh. “Lastly, I didn’t tell you that she was the reason Nanette’s husband left her for the pool boy. Which, if I read Sadie’s actions right, considering she outed Charles Hardy in front of a room full of people and he was so relieved, he didn’t give a damn but Nanette was so humiliated, she hasn’t shown her face in society since, was Sadie’s retribution for Nanette being mean to you.”
Daisy glared at him.
Marcus waited.
Then Daisy spoke. “Let’s get to the goddamned hospital.”
Chapter Two
Stretch My Legs A Bit
Sadie
I knew I was in the hospital before I opened my eyes.
Hospitals had a certain feel and a certain smell and, before I opened my eyes, I experienced both.
The first thing I saw was the ceiling. Then I decided, if they had a suggestion box, before I left I’d suggest they should get a ceiling cleaner. Sick people were on their backs a lot and the ceiling looked filthy. Major gross. Sick people didn’t need to see that.
Then I realized I had to go to the bathroom, like, bad.
This kind of stunk considering when I looked down at my arm there were tubes and stuff sticking in it. Not easy to get to the bathroom with tubes stuck in you.
I also saw my wrist was in a cast but I blanked that out as quickly as I saw it.
I was kind of hoping some of those things sticking in my arm were what was taking the pain away.
I remembered the pain. I would never forget the pain. But I had the strength of mind borne of loads of practice to set the pain, and what caused it, aside.
For now.
As I looked down at my arm, on the floor I saw something weird.
It looked for all the world like a pair of cowboy boots. Not just cowboy boots but jeans and cowboy boots. Not just jeans and cowboy boots but legs in jeans and feet in cowboy boots. The legs were crossed at the ankle and stretched straight out.
I followed the legs up, up, up until I saw Hector “Oh my God” Chavez sleeping in a chair by my hospital bed.
Maybe I wasn’t awake. Maybe I was dreaming.
I stared at him. His hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled (or, more wrinkled than normal) and he needed a shave.
What was he doing there?
Oh my.
I remembered.
Oh no.
I remembered.
He’d been there. Last night, he’d been there.
He’d carried me from the stairs to the car then I passed out.
I woke up again when there was a commotion, a commotion caused when Luke Stark and a security guard were trying to pull Hector out of my emergency bay. Hector didn’t want to go, as in, really didn’t want to go.
How bizarre was that?
Maybe I dreamed that too.
I closed my eyes. Then I remembered I had to go to the bathroom.
Well, I knew one thing. I sure as certain wasn’t going to call the nurse just in case Hector wasn’t a dream. I didn’t want him around when I explained what I needed.
Therefore I knew what I had to do. There was really only one choice.
It took some effort but I managed to twist and look at the bottom of my IV stand thingie. In the TV shows, they had wheels.
I sighed in relief. My IV stand thingie had wheels. I reached out, grabbed it and rolled it a bit down the bed and then stopped.
Hector’s legs in jeans and feet in cowboy boots were in the way.
Darn. What to do now?
“What are you doing?”
My head jerked up and I saw Hector was no longer asleep. He still had his head against the high back of the chair, his forearms were still resting on the arms, hands dangling and his long legs were still stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
But his black eyes were open and they were on me.
“What are you doing?” he repeated his question then got up and approached the bed, coming to a stop at the side, towering over me.
My eyes followed him, my head tilting back as he got up and closer. I didn’t answer.
“Sadie, talk to me. What are you doing?”
I didn’t even try to be Ice Princess. In the circumstances I forgot all about being Ice Princess. I forgot that “Ms. Townsend, Ice Princess” even existed.
“I thought I’d take a walk,” I answered.
His eyebrows went up. “You thought you’d take a walk?”
He sounded like this was more bizarre than the fact that he was even there which I thought was mega-bizarre in the extreme.