Clearing my throat, I brush some of his hair away from his face, “I don’t think so, sweetie.”
“But I’ll be there,” Sienna says, turning, “now what do you want on your waffles?”
Gus is successfully distracted, and I’m so grateful for Sienna. I think that, even if I’ve lost Russell, maybe something good is coming out of this after all.
“Fifty-thousand followers on Instagram,” I say, setting my phone down carefully and tapping on it with a single, manicured finger, courtesy of Ettie.
The insurance rep glances at the phone, then up at me with tired eyes. “…that’s very impressive, but I’m not sure what it has to do with the details of Gus’s case. We’ve already told you that it can take up to ninety business days to?—”
“No.” I cut him off, folding my hands in my lap and giving him a serene look. “For nearly an entire year, you—notyou,personally, but the insurance company as a whole—have been yanking us around on this. Gus had a hole in his heart, and the doctors all recommended the surgery.”
“And, as I understand, the surgeon did the procedure pro-bono,” the insurance rep says, spreading his hands. “The rest of the cost has been paid in full. So, there’s no way I can issue an emergency rush on this processing, because?—”
“Frankly, I don’t want to hear it. Every time I manage to get someone on the phone, after an hour of being on hold, it’s always another thirty, sixty, or ninety days. What if his issue had been serious? He could have suffered an attack before ever getting the medical care heneeds.” I pause, and the rep tries to talk, but I hold my hand up and keep going. “You have to do what you have to do. But I want to make something clear?—”
I tap on my phone screen, lighting up the follower count, which hovers above photos and videos of Gus smiling into the camera. The most recent one shows him in his hospital bed, a bandage running the length of his chest.
“—if the cost of the surgery isn’t refunded to the man who paid for it inthe next week, we’ll be telling our story. And not just on this Instagram, with fifty-thousand ears listening. I have contacts at CBS andToday, Tomorrowwho would be more than happy to pick up a story like this and run with it. Insurance company denies kid with heart condition the surgery he needs. How do you think that’s going to sound?”
He just stares at me, his jaw ticking, his fingers laced together tightly on his desk.
I know that it’s not him—it’s not like sets the policies here. And he’s probably under intense pressure to pay out as little as possible for each case. Maybe his salary even depends on it.
But I’m done thinking about everyone else before I consider myself. And if Russell isn’t getting his inheritance, then I’m notletting him pay for the surgery. Since he’s already covered it, the best I can do is getting him reimbursed.
“I’ll talk to my manager,” the rep says, after a long moment of consideration and silence.
“Great!” I give him a bright smile and tilt my head down at the phone on his desk. “Why don’t we give them a callright now?”
Chapter 35
Russell
Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the hospital forever, even though Jules isn’t answering me and I still feel like shit.
I finish up a routine surgery around eleven, wash up, and talk to the family. When I get back to my office, I find a message from Alena, asking me to meet her in one of the conference rooms. It’s a weird request, but her life has been weird lately. I grab a protein shake from the fridge and text her back that I’ll be there.
When the elevator door opens, I find her standing outside the room, looking twitchy.
“Everything okay? Has Matt tried to contact you again?”
“Oh—no,” she says, frowning, glancing at the door to the conference room. “Come on. Let’s talk in here.”
I nod and walk through the door, thinking she might be nervous that someone could overhear the conversation.
But the conference room isn’t empty. A single blond head is present at the end of the table, bent over a patient file, and raises up when I walk in.
“Russ?” Calvin asks, his brow knitting together. “What the?—”
I turn to the door just as Alena shuts it, wedging a chair until the handle and crossing her arms defiantly. Her voice is muffledthrough the glass when she says, “You two are staying in there until you figure this shit out!”
“Alena!” Cal says, startling me with his sudden proximity. “I have a surgery this afternoon.”
“And this,” I say, gesturing to the chair under the door handle, “is a fire hazard.”
“Guess you’d better make up fast,” she says, and maybe it’s the stress of her life lately, but she looks completely and totally like she means it. And just deranged enough to pull a stunt like this off.
I turn to Calvin, remember how fucking pissed I am at him, then back to the door, “Let usout, Alena.”
