“Byeeeeee.”
I hang up the phone and toss it down on my bed. I let my eyes close for a minute, imagining what life would be like either way.
* * *
I shoot out of bed, realizing I fell asleep at six. Crap. I was supposed to meet Austin at Dickles after work. I grab my phone, finding several missed calls from him since it’s an hour after he got off work. Shoot, shoot, shoot. I tussle my hair on the way over to the mirror, scribble on some lipstick, change my shirt, and slide into my Jimmy Choos.
I send him a text message:
Me:Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep. I’m on my way.
I drop my phone into my back pocket and run out the door, through the hotel lobby and out the front entrance.
I’m walking quickly, but not running. I’ve learned my lesson about running in heels around here.
I make it to the end of the road and cross the street to the downtown area.
There’s some weird honking sound coming from behind me, and it sounds like a bike or something. What the hell is going on? Without slowing down, I twist my head around to see what the noise about. “Watch out!” I hear. “Betsy Blue, stop right now!” Betsy Blu—
* * *
“Scarlett, darlin’ can you tell me how fingers I’m holding up?”
“I’m sleeping,” I tell Austin. Why is he waking me up? It’s got to be the middle of the night.
“Scarlett, I need you to open your eyes for me, sweetheart.”
“No, I’m tired,” I tell him.
“Someone grab some smelling salts. That might work,” I hear him say. Smelling salts? What the hell is he talking about?
“Austin, stop.” I try to pull my sheets up, but they’re stuck. “Give me some sheets.”
“We need to get a CT scan,” I hear from another voice.
Who else is here with me and Austin? An unexpected horrible smell assaults my nose, forcing me to open my eyes ... or try to open them, anyway, but I’m blinded by a million lights, so I throw my hands over my face to shield my eyes from the glare. “What’s going on?”
“Dim the lights,” I hear Austin say. “Is that better?”
Again, I try to open my eyes, and it’s easier this time. Okay, I’m definitely not in my bed or Austin’s, so where am I? I try to sit up, but my head feels like it weighs a million pounds.
“Darlin’,” Austin says, leaning over me with a smile. “You’re okay.”
“Where am I?” I ask, sounding like a frog croaking.
“You fell. Again,” Austin says.
“No, I didn’t,” I argue. “I’m much better at walking in my heels here, now.” He must be teasing me.
Austin comes in a little closer, which is good because everything else seems out of focus. “What’s the last thing you remember, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I was taking a nap.”
“Do you remember coming to meet me at the bar?”
“No,” I tell him. “Shoot, I was supposed to.”
“Scarlett, you were coming to the bar. You were knocked over, and you hit your head.”
