Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“I don’t need you to remind me.”
“Then get your head out of your ass and do something about it.”
“I am, goddammit,” I say, slamming a fist on the bed.
I bite off the rest of the words I was about to hurl at him when everything inside me protests at the violent movement.
“What exactly are you doing?” he asks, challenging me. “Shunning her when she needs you the most? You didn’t see her face when I told her you didn’t want to see her.”
“Back the fuck down. I’m dealing with it.”
Standing his ground, he asks, “How?”
“I ordered new passports for her and Claire. New identities.”
He stares at me for a moment before asking with disbelief, “You want to send them away?”
As far away from here as possible. “Switzerland.”
He utters a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
My expression says otherwise.
“You want to send her to a country where she knows no one and doesn’t speak the language all by herself with a newborn baby?”
“I can’t protect her here,” I say, the volume of my voice rising. “It’s not safe for her and Claire anywhere in New York. And I’m tied to this goddamn hospital bed for God only knows how long. And then after. Have you thought about after? How can I expect her to live with the pieces of me that survived?”
He regards me with a wry smile, shaking his head. “You’re a real piece of work. They’ll go after her no matter where you send her. You can’t hide her forever. And that, my friend, is your doing, so you better handle it. You made her a part of this life the day you fell in love with her.”
“I don’t love her,” I say with force, willing myself to believe it.
Something like disappointment flickers through his eyes. “Then it’s true what everyone says. You only married her because you wanted a child.”
I want to climb off this bed and smash my fist in his face. “Why I married her is nobody’s fucking business.”
“Fine. So you don’t love her.” He says that with contempt. “It doesn’t change one damn thing. You made a vow, and the only reason I respect you is because you’ve never broken an oath.”
He lets that warning sink in. He’s telling me to do right by Anya or risk losing the only friend I have.
I look him in the eye. “She deserves better.”
“You’re damn right about that,” he says before stomping to the door and slamming it hard enough behind him for the bang to echo in my skull.
Chapter
Eight
Anya
* * *
Bertrand assures me that the wound is superficial when I call him on the phone.
“I’m so sorry, Bertrand. Is there anything you need, anything at all I can do for you?”
“Got everything I need right here,” he says. “More importantly, how are you? I saw the news. That’s some tragedy, girl.”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I hesitate. “Are you, um, going to lay charges?”
“I reckon you’ve got enough on your plate. Besides, it’s not the first time a patient attacked me.”
“I really don’t know what to say.”
“You just take care of yourself and that baby. I’m glad you’re both alive. How’s your husband?”
I swallow. “He’s going to be fine.” Changing the subject quickly, I say, “I’ll come see you as soon as I can. I’m going home today.”
“There’s no need, but I appreciate the thought. You have more pressing matters to focus on.”
“I’d like to see you.”
He chuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.” A pause follows before he continues. “Any news about your mother?”
“Nothing from the police.”
“I hope they’ll find her soon.”
“Me too.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Take care, Bertrand.”
“You do the same now, Anya.”
The doctor examines me in the afternoon, signs my discharge, and sends me home with painkillers and anti-inflammatories.
Dante drives me.
It’s difficult to leave Claire and Saverio behind. Every fiber of my being protests at putting distance between us, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t stay at the hospital when they already don’t have enough beds for their patient demands. There’s also a lot to deal with at home and preparations to be made, so I soothe myself with the knowledge that I can visit them twice a day.
Livy welcomes me with a home-cooked dinner when I walk into Saverio’s house. She already moved into one of the guest bedrooms. When we’ve tidied the kitchen, which mostly involved her doing the work and me feeling guilty, we retire to the lounge to make a list.
“We’ll need a wheelchair ramp for when Saverio comes home,” I say. “Dr. Loter said it may take a while before he can walk on crutches, and even then, he’ll tire. The wheelchair will be indispensable for a while.”
Livy cracks open a can of stout. “Bathroom renovations will be necessary.”
“Saverio is fiercely independent,” I muse. “I could help him, but I doubt he’d want that.”