He exhaled. “What I was trying to say is that because of the nature of your sprain, which I assume was made worse by your situation this morning...”
She sighed.
He continued, hating to be the bearer of negative news but tapping into the resolve molded in him by education. “You are looking at six to twelve weeks of recovery.”
Dedra gasped. Kenya laid her head back on her pillow, shutting her eyes tight.
“That is with specific and intentional physical therapy. Healing takes time and work.” He glanced at his smartwatch. “Which I’m sure is what your attending physician will say when he comes back in the room.” Solomon knew that all too well. His knee still bore the scars from the surgery that had ended his soccer days at boarding school.
He needed to leave, but how could he just drop this truth bomb on her without cleaning it up?
“I don’t know how I can heal in time,” she said, her voice drifting to the ceiling. “There is so much activity involved in my upcoming events—walking for long distances, running. I don’t know if I can squeeze in therapy. And if the investors’ tour doesn’t go well, we might not get to work with this organization next year.”
“Oh,” Dedra breathed, joining Kenya in her melancholy. “I forgot that their three-year contract with us was over this year.”
“Yup.” Kenya sighed, the air in the room as weighty as her expression.
A thought was triggered in his mind. Could this be the solution to what he’d been tasked to do? He stepped closer.
“I may have a solution for you, Kenya.”
“What?” She sat up, all at once intrigued.
Her curiosity and hopeful look set off an erratic rhythm in his chest. He needed to get out of this room. “I’m thinking of a creative way to get you back to normal and me out from being in over my head.” He rushed through the words. He wasn’t a risk-taker. Even going against his parents’ initial wishes for a career choice had been carefully calculated and planned. So much so that he’d committed to a detailed timeline in exchange for their financial support as he finished school. He’d never lost confidence in hisability to follow through with all of it until the past few weeks. And he’d never conjured up such crazy ideas until the past couple days. “Do you think one of the best event planners in the Southeast would make a deal with a doctor?”
“Thebest,” she corrected and tapped her chin, his words drawing her curiosity, lifting her despair. “But you have intrigued me.” A slow smile spread across her face and wild hunger lit her eyes. This was a woman built for spontaneity. “Tell me what you have in mind, Dr. Solomon Anruchi.”
He reached into his pocket and handed her a card. “Get some rest and meet me at this clinic tomorrow afternoon.” Surely her interest would be enough for her to follow through. “My supervisor should be able to squeeze you in.” She took the card from him, her fingertips brushing his. “I’ll tell you then.”
8
KENYA HAD NEVERbeen the patient type. She wished she’d been able to pull more details from Solomon yesterday, but he’d been adamant about her attending physical therapy today first. At least the anticipation was distracting enough to take the edge off of yesterday morning.
Throwing up in front of her coworkers and the Bellon Group reps was one of the worst moments of her life. To top it off, she’d hurt her ankle more in the process. But instead of Solomon adding to her embarrassment, his presence in the hospital room had calmed her and stirred her with expectation. And Dedra’s commentary on the way back from the hospital hadn’t helped. Yes,Dedra. She was quite aware of how attractive he was, with his close-cropped tight curls and neatly clipped facial hair. And those expressive eyes, framed by stylish black-rimmed glasses and focused so intently on her, had been unnerving. Combined with his wide grin, he looked like a younger version of Malcolm-Jamal Warner.
Still, a part of her wished she’d never agreed to meet him today. Kenya surveyed the pile of slim and fitted slacks on her bed with a sigh. A sprained ankle definitely put a wrench in her wardrobe plans. Hobbling over to her closet, she scanned the racks of clothes, some with price tags still on them, looking to see if she had anywide-leg pants that would accommodate her new accessory, otherwise known as her ankle boot. She sucked in a breath, already worn out from traveling five feet.
Instead of the high-waisted, fitted jeans her soul craved at the moment, she reached for wide-leg linen pants that were better suited for the resort in Jamaica where she’d worn them.
Truthfully, she needed more than regained mobility for her next few events. She had to figure out a way to salvage the debacle of the past few days, if she still had a job after filling the boardroom trash can with the contents of her stomach.
Kenya hobbled back to her bed, tossing the pants next to the loose top she’d already selected. Hopefully the small chance of rain showers would hold off so she didn’t have to add an umbrella to her ensemble. Unless it was a walking cane combo. Canes were chic in a way, right? Kind of like a Mary Poppins vibe. At the very least, a long umbrella would be cuter and more versatile than crutches.
She lowered herself into the plush chair in the corner of her bedroom and eased her hurt leg on top of the stack of style magazines and architecture books near her feet. She sure did know how to get herself into complicated situations. Usually, the getting out of dilemmas part was what gave her creative ideas and unique outcomes. But this situation was unfolding in the most frustrating way.
Her phone buzzed under her. Kenya groaned, pushing herself up to pull it out from under her thigh.
She answered, not bothering to keep the spice from her voice. “I don’t know why you are calling me, Adanne. Do you know where you are?”
“I know, I know, but I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“You should be enjoying your honeymoon, not checking on your cousin, who is absolutely fine.”
“Then why doesn’t it sound like you are?”
Kenya rose to perch on the edge of her bed so she could prop her throbbing ankle on the accent chair. But not before her foot hit a box on the floor. She took a few moments of silence beforehissing, “It’s nothing you should be concerned about. I just have a few more weeks than intended for recovery.”
“Oh no, Kenya, your work.”
