I push away from the sink and shut the bathroom light off.
When I come back to the bedroom, she’s still lying there. The sheet is wrapped around her body, barely doing its job. Her hairis spread across the pillow in a dark mess, glasses on again, her eyes immediately locking onto me the second I step through the doorway.
For a moment, neither of us utters a single word.
My mind quickly replays what we just did in this bed, and my cock immediately thinks that was a fantastic idea and maybe we should do it again. My eyes scan her body, tracing the curve of her shoulder and how the sheet dips at her waist.
Her phone rings, piercing the house’s quiet.
Lola’s head turns toward the hallway, her phone still sitting out on the kitchen table where we had dinner.
“Shit,” she mutters, pushing the sheet aside and swings her legs out of bed.
She moves toward the door, and my eyes slide down her body. Beautiful tits. Tight waist. Bare thighs. That damn curve of her ass that makes my mouth go dry.
Fuck.
She quickly leaves the room, rushing down the hall, and I have to force myself not to follow her.
I lean back against the headboard and run a hand over my face, exhaling softly. Focus, asshole.
All of a sudden, the ringing stops.
“Fuck,” her voice echoes down the hall.
I shift on the bed, debating whether I should get dressed or just stay right here where the sheets still smell like her.
The answer never comes, because as soon as her phone starts ringing again, Lola appears in the doorway, phone in hand and face pale.
Her fingers grip the phone so tightly that I can see the tension in them even from across the room.
She looks up at me, fear clear in her eyes.
“It’s the hospital,” she says quietly. The words come out thin and fragile.
Her thumb hovers over the screen, but she doesn’t answer. She just stares at it as the phone keeps demanding her attention.
“Bells,” I say softly.
“I don’t know if I can answer it,” she whispers.
The fear in her voice hits hard. She’s scared this is the call she’s been dreading—the one that ends everything and changes her entire damn world.
Without thinking, I swing my legs off the bed and cross the room in three strides until I reach her.
I gently take the phone from her fingers. I know I have to do this for her—to be the one to hear the news first so I can catch her if she falls.
I press the answer button and lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hello, this is Nurse Patel from St. Mary’s ICU. I’m looking for Lola Bellamy.”
I glance up and see Bells still frozen in the doorway. Her eyes are locked on my face, terrified of what I’m about to hear.
“She’s... uh,” I clear my throat, forcing my voice steady. “She’s in the shower right now.”
A little lie. The kind that gives me a few seconds to figure out what the hell is going on before I have to watch her fall apart.
