My heart jumps, and my watch chirps in response. I look down at the screen as it flares yellow before dropping back to green.
Kelly’s eyes dart to my watch too, but before she can ask any more questions, the door opens. She looks up and sees someonewho makes her eyes swim with fear. Her face pales a shade, and she subconsciously pulls away from me to scoot back into bed.
I look over my shoulder to find one ofthemost handsome men I’ve ever seen strutting into the room. Tall and imposing, he’s got crystal blue eyes and a heart fluttering smile.
There are two women in the hospital cots beside me and four women across from me. All six ladies are different ages, sizes, and ethnicities, but they gasp as one when the man walks in.
He likes the attention because his chin tilts higher when everyone’s gazes latch onto him.
The male model gets to Kelly’s bed and drags a chair closer to her. “Honey, are you okay?” He reaches out to Kelly and picks up both of her hands as he inspects her face. “Oh no. Sweetheart, I heard you fell down the stairs. You should have called me sooner. I would have canceled that business trip to be with you.”
“I-I’m fine,” Kelly stammers. Her throat bobs as if she can hardly speak.
It’s a strange turnaround. She seemed so chirpy before the guy walked in. Sure, she was crying about her dad—but they were happy, nostalgic tears.
I observe the man from a closer vantage point. He has perfectly coiffed black hair and a straight, almost too-perfect nose. He’s wearing a polo and khakis and a large Rolex. It’s the classic “wealthy hedge fund manager” golf course attire.
Every inch of him screams “trust fund kid.”
But I guess that’s the circle of life.
Rich men like beautiful women like Kelly.
And beautiful women like Kelly like rich men.
The guy brings Kelly’s hand to his lips, and I see he’s wearing a wedding ring.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner. I just came in from the airport and got your message.”
Kelly blinks rapidly and turns to me. In a dull voice that sounds like all the sunshine’s been ripped out of her, she tells me, “J, this is my husband Shawn.”
“Hi, J.” Shawn’s voice goes up a couple octaves, as if he’s talking to a baby.
It’s something that a lot of adults do to me. Because I have the sickly appearance of a Victorian child suffering from a bout of tuberculosis, everyone thinks I’m younger than nineteen.
“If you don’t mind, I need to have a private chat with Kelly.” Still flashing me that patronizing smile, Shawn tugs Kelly out of the cot.
I notice her wincing from his grip and sit straighter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The doctor?—”
“It’s okay, J.” Her eyes have gone wide, begging me not to get involved.
I snap my mouth shut.
Kelly scoops her phone out of the cot and shuffles behind Shawn. The door clicks behind them.
The moment they leave, the other ladies in the room twitter.
“Is he a movie star?”
“I’ve never seen a man that handsome in real life!”
“What a lucky girl. Why, if I were a few years younger…”
I tune them out, something odd needling at my brain. Why did Shawn say that Kelly had gotten hurt falling down the stairs? She told me when she got here that she’d been in a car accident.
Either Kelly is lying or her husband is.
My gut is screaming at me to find out the truth, but when I met Kelly, I promised myself I wouldn’t go hunting for her secrets. She’s treated me like a true friend, and I want to return the favor.
