Page 139 of The Temporary Fiancée
Before I leave the room, I glance over my shoulder at the shareholders, an ounce of professionalism returning to me even though this meeting—and all of the people in this room—are the last things on my mind.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” I say, my voice clipped. “I need to make sure my fiancé is okay.”
There’s a chorus of murmurs from the assembled people, but I don’t bother to stick around. I’m out of the door in the blink of an eye, heading for the elevator and the waiting car outside.
My heart is in my throat as my driver takes me through the city, toward the hospital. The panic is an uncomfortable feeling. All I can do is be simultaneously annoyed at my driver for goingso slowly, and glad I’m not the one behind the wheel—I would be too reckless right now.
Marjorie didn’t say anything about Olivia’s condition. What if she’s hurt? What if she’s unresponsive when I arrive? What if?—
As soon as the car pulls up under the hospital’s awning, I bolt outside and into the lobby. The receptionist at the front desk points me in the direction of Olivia’s hospital room—apparently, she’s out of the ER where the paramedics originally brought her, which must be a good sign.
I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples as I enter Olivia’s room. The lights are turned off, with only the natural light of the afternoon streaming through the curtains.
Olivia is lying in the bed, a blanket pulled up over her shoulders. She looks so fragile, surrounded by the sterile white sheets, that a wave of protectiveness rushes through me.
Quietly, I make my way across the room and sit down in the chair by her bedside, reaching out to take her hand. She seems to be asleep at first, but as soon as my fingers brush hers, her eyes flicker open.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“Hey,” I respond. “Are you okay?”
She nods, though the movement is a little stiff, and a wave of relief crashes over me. “I’m fine,” she murmurs. “Just a little bruised. The road was a bit icy, and we got into a minor fender bender. Nothing too serious.”
For a few moments, I’m unable to respond. I feel overwhelmed by the sudden sense of gratitude that she’s okay.
It could’ve been so much worse.
I could’ve lost her. And I realize, in this moment, that I can’t bear the thought of losing her. She means far too much to me.
After a couple of seconds, I manage to say, “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”
“Me, too.”
“Where does it hurt?”
Gingerly, she reaches a hand to her collarbone. “Bruised a little bit here from the seatbelt. And I have a little bit of a headache, but the doctor said there wasn’t a concussion.”
“That’s good,” I say. I’m overcome by the urge to hold her, and have to settle for bending down and planting a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.
“The doctor said he would come by again soon,” she continues. “They told me that I can go home today—they don’t need to keep me overnight.”
“That’s also good. I can take you home,” I offer.
“Don’t you need to get back to work?” She frowns, a tiny crease appearing between her eyes. “I thought you had a meeting this afternoon.”
“It’s fine. Taking care of you is more important.”
“Reed—”
“Seriously, it’s alright.”
She stares at me for a moment, her lower lip quivering, then nods. “Okay. If you insist.”
“What happened?” I ask. “Was it my driver?” My hands tighten into fists at the thought. “Do I need to?—”
“No, no, it wasn’t his fault,” she says quickly. “The weather was bad this morning, and we hit a patch of black ice. It could have happened to anyone—it was no big deal.”
“But you ended up in the hospital,” I protest. “That’s a big deal.”
