And I will eternally be a gold-digging whore-slash-slut to Ivy Allen-Golding-Smith.
At least she won’t be adding Walker to her surname. Winston and Ivy broke up last year. I’d love to know if he kicked her bitchy ass to the curb, but Garrick wasn’t speaking to his mom or Pepper at the time, so we never got the deets.
“It suits you,” Beck says, draining the remains of his coffee.
“Mom named me after Stevie Nicks from—”
“Fleetwood Mac.” Now it’s his turn to complete my sentence.
I nod, tipping my head back to catch every last drop of my macchiato. When I’m finished, I take his cup and mine and walk over to the trash can to toss them. I glance at my watch, startled to find an hour has passed since my run-in with Pepper and the she-devil.
When I return to the bench, Beck is staring at an expensive-looking silver watch strapped to his wrist.
“Reality calls, huh?” I say, looming over him.
“Unfortunately.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he stands, sinking his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Can I walk you inside?” He looks around. “I don’t see anyone hovering, but you can never be too sure.”
“Okay.” Swiping my purse from under the bench, I wrap it around my shoulder and across my body.
We walk amicably side by side, both lost in thought. The closer I get to the hospital entrance, the more stress presses down on my shoulders, cording the muscle into knots. Although I know Pepper and Ivy are long gone, anxiety still flows through my veins. The altercation with them has shaken me more than I’d realized.
Beck and I cross the lobby, heading for the same elevator. Miraculously, it’s empty when we step inside, both of us reaching for the same button at the same time. The floor Garrick’s new room is on is a private one. All the suites have their own waiting areas, but it’s not uncommon to meet other visitors in the hallways, and sometimes people congregate in the communal waiting room for a change of scenery. I regularly bump into the same people in the cafeteria or at one of the espresso stands, the tearooms, or the coffee truck outside.
I have never crossed paths with Beck before, so I’m pretty confident in saying whomever he’s visiting must be a new addition to the floor.
Our eyes meet in mutual surprise as the doors close. Beck scrubs a hand along his smooth jawline, standing rigidly still as the elevator begins to rise. I lean against the wall as tension fills the gap between us.
He breaks it first.
“If it’s not too intrusive to ask, who are you visiting?” Warm brown eyes pierce mine.
“My boyfriend,” I whisper, automatically touching the ink on my wrist. “He’s been in a coma for eight months.”
Sympathy splays across his face. “That must be very difficult.”
“It is.” I clear my throat as I watch the numbers go by, bringing us closer and closer to the ward. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
He wets his lips before speaking. “Brielle…my girlfriend”—his face pulls into a grimace—"just got moved over from the ICU.”
I want to ask why she’s here, but I don’t want him to feel like he has to tell me. He volunteers the information anyway.
“She’s in a coma too. Three weeks.”
“I empathize. It sucks.”
He nods before lowering his eyes and picking at imaginary lint on the sleeve of his coat.
The doors ping as they draw open, and we silently step out into the corridor. We stand in front of the elevator for a few nanoseconds, staring at one another, both of us reluctant to part for reasons that have nothing to do with wanting to remain together. “I’m this way,” I say, pointing left, after I pull my big girl panties on.
He jerks his head over his shoulder. “I’m back there.”
A pregnant pause ensues. I break it first this time. “Well, it was nice talking with you, Beck, and thanks again for the coffee.”
“Any time, Stevie.” He runs a hand across the back of his neck. “See you around.”
I shoot him a small smile before I turn on my heel and head in the direction of Garrick’s room.
ChapterForty
