“Planning to get alotof mileage out of that,” I said.
I should’ve known Harvey would be in town for Seth’s wedding.
“How’re you feeling otherwise?” Harvey asked. The sound of a plastic hospital chair scraping over the floor made my head hurt all over again, but then Harvey’s face swam into view, and things weren’t so bad.
Aside from the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was still white as a ghost, his face was nice to look at.
Not that Harvey had ever been all that many shades darker than recycled paper. Even in the height of summer, he’d always burned, never tanned.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” I said.
“It was a Volkswagen Golf,” Harvey said, scratching at his perfectly-sculpted stubble.
I kind of wanted to bite it.
Which I was definitely blaming on whatever medications I was on right now. I hoped they were the fun kind.
“Excuse me for not catching the make and model while it sped toward me at a million miles an hour.”
“I was doing less than twenty,” Harvey said. “Which is lucky for you, or a mild concussion and a sore wrist would’ve been the least of your problems.”
“I heard you say Theo was okay,” I said. Ihadheard it, but I wanted Harvey to tell me directly.
“He’s fine,” Harvey said. “He’s making friends with some of the off-duty nurses. I, uh. Told them he was a service dog.”
“Harv, they’re gonna notice I’m not blind.”
“Not… notthatkind of service dog.” Harvey gestured, showing off long, elegant fingers. “The mental health kind.”
“You told them I was crazy?” I asked.
“Youdidrun in front of a moving car,” Harvey said.
I couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t that I’d done it onpurpose, I’d just been chasing after Theo and hadn’t even noticed the car was there. Main Street was usually so quiet you could run across it whenever you wanted and the chance of getting hit by a car was zero, especially in the fall after the tourists left.
“He is good for my mental health,” I allowed.
Harvey picked at a scratch in the chair with his nail, brows drawn together. “You scared the hell out of me, Ig.”
Ig. Harvey was the only person who could take a four-letter nickname and shorten it to two.
At least, he was the only person I’d ever let get away with it.
“Mr. Kowalski,” a woman’s voice said over the squeak of a door hinge. “And the future Mr. Kowalski, you’re awake!”
“We’re hyphenating, actually,” I said.
I wasn’t just letting Harvey get away with claiming me as his fiancé. I hadn’t decided yet if he was the kind of guy I wanted to marry.
“We’re not hyphenating,” Harvey responded.
I grinned at him.
“You don’t think Beaumont-Kowalski has a nice ring to it, sugar bear?”
The look Harvey gave me for that endearment was almost worth getting hit by a car for.
“I do not, honey muffin,” Harvey said, reaching out to take my hand.
