Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I’ll be damned if she goes home in some filthy city cab.
“I insist,” I say. “I can have my driver take you home if you’d like.”
“She’s going to want to sleep in her own bed, trust me,” Indie says. “And I’m sorry, but you can’t just waltz in here like you’re her boyfriend after the way you talked to her the other day.”
“You guys . . .” Elle lifts a hand, wincing. “Please . . .”
Silence blankets the room.
“I’m going to my home.” Elle breaks the quiet. “To sleep in my own bed.”
Tightness floods my chest. While I understand and respect her decision, it pains me to think about walking out of here tonight without her.
Settling into my chair, I plant myself without another word. If she won’t be coming home with me, I’m at least staying until she’s formally discharged, and then I’ll see to it that she gets home.
“I’m going to call your mom,” Indie says, disappearing into the hall with her phone in hand.
“You don’t have to do this,” Elle says to me after the nurse leaves and it’s just the two of us.
“Of course I do.”
She doesn’t understand. And how could she?
“Go home. Be with Scarlett. I’ll call you as soon as this stupid migraine goes away.” She slides her hand away from mine. “I will. I’ll call. And we can talk. But you should go.”
I drag a sterile breath into my hollow chest before letting it go.
Shaking my head, I say, “I’m sorry, Elle, but no. I’m taking you home.”
“You and your nonnegotiables . . .” Her lips twitch, as if she has more to add, but the nurse returns with a paper cup of water and a packet of pills.
Moving aside, I take a moment to text Scarlett to give her an update.
ME: I’m sure you’re sleeping but just wanted to let you know Elle is okay. Just a migraine. Getting meds and going home soon.
SCARLETT: OMG! Thank god!!! I was so worried!!!
Despite the events of the past week, I knew deep down that Scarlett hadn’t written Elle off. She was angry, yes. But it’s moments like these that offer perspective.
If something had happened to Elle and the last words I’d spoken to her had cut through her kindhearted soul like a rusted knife, I’d never have forgiven myself.
She deserves better from me.
And that’s exactly what I’m going to give her.
CHAPTER FORTY
ELLE
“You’re awake.” West is blurry from the other side of the room. I rub my eyes until he comes into focus. “Are you hungry?”
It’s been a week since my aneurysm scare.
Six days since I let him back into my life.
Four days since I came home with West.
Twelve hours since he gifted me with the kind of earth-shattering, orgasmic romp people only read about in Penthouse magazine. These last several days have been nothing short of wonderful, with West doting on me and seeing to it that my every need is met. He’s also apologized profusely for the way he spoke to me that morning in front of Scarlett.
I’ve forgiven him, but forgetting may take more time.
Rising from the work desk he set up in the corner of his master suite, West strides across the room before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Brushing my hair from my forehead, he dips down to deposit a kiss.
“I’ll have Bettina prepare your usual,” he says.
While my migraine has long since left the building and my energy is on an upswing, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t adore all this extra attention. Plus, I think it’s good for West to devote his time and energy to someone other than himself.
Who knew he had a nurturing side?
“Thank you,” I say before climbing out of his bed and heading for the shower. When I emerge smelling like his woodsy bodywash with my body wrapped in a fluffy towel, a tray of covered breakfast is waiting on the bedside table.
West drinks me in with his bedroom eyes, his phone pressed against his ear.
“Yes, that’s what I said.” West speaks into his receiver, though his gaze is wholly mine. “And if he won’t agree, tell him we’ll walk. We have options.”
Last night Scarlett and I had a heart-to-heart about everything. We curled up under a blanket in the movie room while Gilmore Girls played muted in the background, and I told her everything from the beginning—about how much I hated working for her uncle, how he convinced me to help him with her, and how I’ve gotten to see a softer side of him I never knew existed. I assured her none of what has transpired was intentional, and I swore to her that whether or not things work out between West and me, I’ll always be there for her.
Scarlett wrapped me in a long, tight hug, and in true teenager fashion, she pretended like everything was cool thirty seconds later.