Well, honestly, I hadn’tthought about it. Not yet.
But hearing him explain it to me as if I were a child makes me all feel all prickly inside. “The hospital is perfectly safe,” I retort.“They have plenty of security. And the nurses check on me all the time.”
“Maybe so,” Nico concedes. “But what about when you go home? You said they took the cash from your wallet. They probably know where you live.”
My stomach jumps. “I have an alarm system at my apartment. And the complex I live in is safe.”
He sighs. “Sofia. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but?—”
“Then don’t.”
I know he’s just being practical. And given that he owns a security company, it’s not unreasonable that he’d bring up the issue of safety. But I don’t want his concern right now. Not when it’s eighteen years too late.
With a frown, he says, “Okay.” Then he pulls a business card from his pocket and sets it on the bedside table. “If you need anything, if you remember?—”
“I’ll call you,” I finish. “If I remember why I came to your place, I’ll let you know.”
Nico sighs again. “Alright. I’ll let you get some sleep.” He takes a few steps back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
The sight of his business card sitting there, so cold and impersonal, brings a bite to my voice. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”
And the unspoken part that I say in my head.
Not like you worried before, when my life was falling apart.
His features go still. That angry flush rises in his cheeks again. “Fine.” Then he turns and heads towards the door.
I almost think that’s the end of it. And though it’s better this way, my heart still aches.
But before he leaves, he turns around again. His gaze, dark and shadowed, meets mine. “Be safe, Sofia.”
And then he’s really gone, leaving just a rectangular piece of cardboard behind.
One tear breaks free. Then another. And another.
Don’t cry over him,my logical inner voice orders.You’ve spent far too long doing that.
You’re feeling vulnerable,the kinder voice reassures.It’s okay to be sad. Anger and hurt go hand in hand.
Both things are true.
I’m still angry with Nico. I’m still hurt. But there’s a piece of him still wedged deep in my heart, and no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of it.
“Oh, Miss Shaw.” A nurse comes into the room and hurries to the side of my bed. Sympathy fills her expression as she looks at me. “You’re in pain, aren’t you? Mr. Parisi mentioned it on his way out. That you needed more pain medication.”
More tears break free, trickling down the sides of my cheeks. A lump swells in my throat. “Just a little. It’s not too bad.”
“Well, you should just ask.” She pats my arm. “That’s what we’re here for. To make you feel better.”
As she fusses with my IV, she adds, “Your friend, he’s very nice, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I reply tightly. Because I don’t think the alternative answer, which is,He is when he wants to be, will go over quite as well.
“It’s too bad he had to leave,” she continues. “But I guess with it being so late, it’s better to let you get some sleep. Although—” She gives me a conspiratorial smile, “If he weremyfriend, I don’t think I’d mind if he stayed.”
But he’s not my friend.
And whatever reason he had for coming here, curiosity or a weird sense of obligation, I’m sure I won’t see him again.
