“I’ll… It’ll be weird without you.”
“Nah, it’ll be perfectly normal.” He nudged me. “I’m sorry, Kitty. I know shit’s been weird since Lara left for Vermont and Millie decided to take a sabbatical.”
“The last one standing of the five musketeers.” When he tugged me into a hug, I let him. First, Beatriz. Then Lara. Followed by Millie and now George. But at least Lara, Millie, and George weren’t leaving me for good. Not like Beatriz. “I’m sorry for being a crybaby.Your momdoesneed you nearby, and it’d be a damn shame if Millie never returned to nursing. She has a gift.”
“Just because it makes sense, doesn't mean that it doesn’t hurt you,” he said in that way of his that soothed even the gnarliest of patients.
If I gave off ‘older sister’ vibes as Valentini had accused, George was the caring nurturer who patted heads, cleaned up grazed knees, and always had suckers on hand.
I swiped at my cheeks. “Is Millie not okay and you didn’t tell me?”
“We’re getting there. Want me to make this better?”
“That’s possible?”
“Sure it is. I have gossip.”
I shoved away from him with a groan. “You can chart his obs.”
George smirked. “Only if you read this article.”
“Read?” That earned him a second groan. “What is it?”
When he passed me his phone, my eyes bugged. “That’s a lot of text. I’m not reading that! It’s longer than my sermon on medical ethics.”
“Not as boring.”
I harrumphed. “You sure this is your vocation?”
When Mr. Valentini moaned in his sleep, both of us glanced at one another. Especially as his heart rate spiked.
“Think he made up that shit about the homemade meds?”
“He’s high. How am I supposed to know if it’s true or not?” I waggled George’s phone. “Just like this bullshit.”
“That’s not bullshit. It’s about that woman who came in last week. The one who forgot her Birkin and you had to take it up to the VIP floor?”
I didn’t necessarily remember the woman, but definitely the Birkin and her disregard for a purse worth more than the contents of my apartment combined.
Ironically enough, venturing to the VIP floor was how I’d stumbled across Currau Valentini.
Because the coincidence intrigued me more than the blog, I’d already started reading when George, his back to me, bribed, “Read it and I’ll make the coff?—”
He didn’t even have a chance to finish the sentence. “You got it.”
A little bird has informed me that all is not well in the land of Graham and Anastasia Brackton—a divorce may even be in the cards.
Don’t have a clue who they are?
It wouldn’t surprise me. These two billionaires move at a whole other level than most mortals. Ever heard of Viseon? You bet you have—all those little chips in your phone that make it go pop? Viseon is the global leader in their design and manufacture.
If you’ve been living under a rock and think Viseon was an 80s rock band, you may have heard whispers about the Bracktons’ sprawling Vermont estate, which they constructed on top of a known bird conservation area despite local protests.
Of course, the billionaires won that war…
Regardless of your opinions on Bicknell's thrushes, their loss of habitation in Vermont’s luscious spruce-fir forests, or the fact that they’re one of the region's highest conservation priorities, I recently found out that Anastasia Brackton is currently residing in a VIP room at a very hush-hush hospital in NYC.
Why do I care, my darling reader?
