She snort-laughed. “Lord, no. I love him despite the ketchup. Right after we started dating, it hadn’t gotten very serious, butI became very ill. Violently ill. I had been sick for a few days, miserable in my temporary apartment. And I guess I coughed so hard that Jesse could hear me upstairs. He knocked on my door to see if I was okay, and when he saw how bad I looked, he wrapped me in a blanket and carried me to the car. He drove me straight to the emergency room, where they diagnosed me with pneumonia.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. It was bad. I thought it was bronchitis or something, but no. Pneumonia. It was so bad they thought they might need to put me on a ventilator, but thankfully, the antibiotics and therapies kicked in.”
“How long were you in the hospital?” I asked.
“A week,” True answered. “Jesse came to see me every day. He didn’t do that thing that some people do when they come to see you in the hospital. You know, where they make it all about them? Or they ask you to entertain them, even though you’re hooked up to a thousand machines and feel like ass.”
I snorted. “Facts.”
“Jesse sat with me. Sometimes, he read me a passage from one of his romance novels.” She smiled as she shared the story. “Sometimes, he held my hand until I fell asleep. But he was there for me when I needed him. So, I look past when he pulls this nonsense about not knowing where the ketchup is or pretending he doesn’t know how to do laundry. I remember the hospital.”
Boots delivered our drinks, and I sipped the specialty cocktail. “No regrets then?”
She shrugged. “Well. This week has been interesting.”
“Hasn’t it?”
When she didn’t answer, I saw her slowly stirring her cocktail with a paper straw. I didn’t tell her the paper would disintegrate quicker if she kept doing that. She looked miserable enough.
“True? Are you sure you want to get married tomorrow?”
She looked up at me and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “No.”
Chapter 35
Rowan Rafferty drops a truth bomb
Jesse tossedme a light beer with more water than taste, and he must have clocked the face I made. “Sorry, it’s not Fosters or whatever else you Aussies drink.”
“It’s fine. I’m only half-Australian.”
Jesse walked to a recliner in the living area and plopped into the seat, throwing his legs over the arm. “Where’d you grow up, then?”
I took a seat on the couch. “In Tampa.”
“No shit?” He sipped his beer and gave me an appraising look. “Did you ever play any sports?”
“Football. American football.”
“How about that! I played football for our high school. But I don’t remember playing against any Rafferty,” Jesse said.
“Rafferty is my mother’s name,” I said. “In high school, I went by Seeger. My dad’s name.”
“Ah,” Jesse took a swig of beer and then pointed the bottle toward the room. “Did you know Ken used to live here?”
“I didn’t, but that makes sense,” I said.
“Lived here for two years while she fixed up her charter boat,” Jesse added. “I’m real proud of her.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Proud implies that you’re in a superior position to her. Do you feel superior to her?”
Jesse raised his bottle to his mouth but missed, poking himself in the cheek. “Uh, no.”
“Why didn’t you go into business with her?” I asked.
“Why would I go into business with her?”
