“I know,I’m sorry. You’re not gonna believe this, but I hit Iggy with my car.”
Where the hell was I? My ears were ringing and my head felt like it’d been split open.
“I didn’t do it on purpose! He ran out into the road. He was chasing a puppy.”
Theo. Shit. Where was Theo?
I groaned as I forced my eyes open, hissing through my teeth at the harsh sunlight, made brighter by the white walls of the room I was in.
Thin mattress, unmistakable scent of bleach and disinfectant, distant beeping.
Hospital.
Another wave of nausea welled up in my guts, but I swallowed this one down.
I hated hospitals. I hated hospitals with my entire fucking soul.
“Yeah, yeah, the puppy’s fine. Oh, and if anyone at Otter Bay General asks, I’m Iggy’s fiancé.”
That made me snort.
“Gotta go,” Harvey’s voice said. “He’s awake.”
A pause. “Yeah, I’ll keep you updated. And I’ll tell him. Bye, Seth.”
Seth, right. That made sense, Harveywouldbe calling his cousin.
“You could buy me a drink first,” I said as Harvey came into view, charcoal probably-cashmere sweater and dark jeans a lot easier on the eyes than the harsh sunlight.
I didnotstare at the front of Harvey’s jeans, but if, hypothetically, I had…
He sure did fill them out a lot better than he used to. Harvey wasallgrown up.
“What?” Harvey asked.
“Before we get married,” I said. “Did I get a romantic proposal?”
I could picture Harvey rolling his eyes based on the sigh he let out, but I still totally wasn’t looking at the front of his jeans. Or the soft hem of his sweater that I kind of wanted to reach out and touch, or the tails of his shirt peeking out under it and giving him that effortlessly cool look.
He’d changed alot.
“You got whatever proposal you want,” Harvey said.
“Hmm,” I considered. “It was late in the afternoon. I was just closing up at the coffee shop, about to head home. Maybe you’d been out of town for a business meeting or something, but I wasn’t expecting you back yet. When I walked out, you were standing there with an acoustic guitar—no, a ukulele—and you sang your proposal.”
“I can’t play the ukulele,” Harvey said. “Or the guitar for that matter. And no one wants to hear me sing, least of all me.”
I shrugged. “That’s what made it romantic. It was embarrassing for you, but you knew it’d make me smile. We had marathon sex after. Obviously, I said yes.”
“Well.” Harvey blinked at me. “At least your imagination is still exactly like it always was.”
I smiled wryly, wincing when the movement made the cut on my head twinge. It was really only a scrape, but it stung, and it was giving me a headache even past whatever painkillers I’d been dosed with.
When I looked at Harvey again, his face had fallen. “Pain?” he asked.
“Just a little,” I said, toying with the bleached-thin sheets.
“I’m so sorry, Ig. Can’t believe I ran you over.”
