Page 140 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Nobody was seriously hurt. We didn’t?—”
The door to her room opens, interrupting her, and a woman in a white coat and dark, curly hair steps in, a tablet tucked under one arm. She smiles at the two of us as she enters.
“I take it you’d like me to leave the lights off?” she asks Olivia.
“Please.” Olivia smiles thinly. “My head still hurts a little.”
“Okay. I have your discharge papers and care instructions right here,” the doctor says. She turns to me. “Are you with Miss Quinn today?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m her fiancé. I’ll be bringing her home.”
I don’t miss the startled look Olivia gives me, but I keep my attention on the doctor.
“She’s going to be just fine,” the doctor tells me. “Here’s the discharge instructions. She needs to rest for the next few days. Keep an eye on any continued headaches or nausea, and come back if they persist for more than forty-eight hours. You should be feeling normal by tomorrow, but we need to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
Olivia nods, and I reach out to take the pages from the doctor, scanning the list of instructions myself—and committing them to memory.
“Are there any medications she needs to take?”
“We haven’t prescribed anything,” says the doctor, “but she may want to take a full dose of ibuprofen as needed, just to numb the pain of the bruising.”
“Sounds good.” I shake the doctor’s hand, and she gives each of us a warm smile.
“I’ll send a nurse in with a wheelchair to take you to your car.”
As she leaves, Olivia says, “Wait—did you leave work to come here? I thought you had a meeting today. Please tell me you didn’t skip it.”
“I didn’t skip it,” I say, which is at least partially true. “Don’t worry. It’s more important for me to be here right now, and if anyone at work has a problem with that, they’ll have to take it up with me tomorrow.”
A few minutes later, a nurse arrives in the room, pushing a plastic wheelchair. She turns to me. “Are you her husband?”
For a brief instant, I’m frozen in place by the question. It catches me off-guard, and I open my mouth, unsure how to respond.
Olivia seems to notice my hesitation, and rushes to my aid. “Not yet,” she says, smiling brightly. “We’re engaged, though.”
“Congratulations,” the nurse says with a nod. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”
As I wheel Olivia through the halls of the hospital, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of dismay. I do my best to hide it from her, but I know she can tell something’s off—she’s gotten to know me well enough by now to be in tune with my body language.
That nurse assumed I was herhusband.She assumed we were together. And now, all I can think of is the fact that she was dead wrong.
The fact that Olivia lied to cover our tracks, too. That I’mnother fiancé. That this entire engagement is fake, just a performance we’re putting on for the rest of the world.
It’s a disappointing truth, and it sits in the pit of my stomach, mingling with the relief I felt when I realized that she wasn’t badly hurt in the crash.
If I’m being honest with myself… this doesn’t feel fake to me anymore. It hasn’t felt that way for a long time. I don’t want her to be lying when she tells people we’re going to be married soon. I don’t want people to be wrong when they assume we’re together.
Outside, I help Olivia into the backseat of one of my SUVs. Her movements are stiff and uncomfortable, and now that the sheets are no longer covering her arms, I can see the bruises, blooming black and purple.
A flash of protectiveness goes through me. It’s terrible to see her in pain.
After we arrive back at The Luxe, I can’t help but hover nearby as she settles onto the couch.
“It’s really fine,” she insists, propping herself up on a pile of pillows. “You can go back to the office.”
“No. I’m sticking around. Do you need anything?”
“I already told you.” There’s an exasperated fondness in her voice. “I’m good. Really. You can relax. I’m just going to be sitting here and knitting all day.”
