Page 30 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
Just like the new day that is starting.
11
WILLIAM
The elevator buttons in Saint Agnes are worn down to near-blank from years of pressing, and the corridor on Charlotte's floor smells like floor cleaner with the faint ghost of whatever was delivered for breakfast.
I left after Charlotte woke up. She surfaced for about twenty minutes, groggy, irritated and demanding to know if her partner was okay, which told me what I needed to know. She’s going to be fine.
Went home, showered, changed, and drove back in clothes that didn't smell like a waiting room.
I'm reaching for Charlotte's door room handle when I hear her laugh.
The full sound of it, unguarded, real. She's going to be fine.
The weight I’ve been carrying since I got the phone call releases in one fast move before I've registered it's happening.
Then I push the door open and see who she's laughing with.
Sienna is sitting on the edge of Charlotte's bed, sideways, one foot tucked under her, leaning in with something she's sayingthat I haven't caught. They're mid-laugh, both of them, the easy helpless kind that's been going on for a while.
The warmth in my chest from the laugh closes off and something colder takes its place.
They both look up.
The laugh stops.
Sienna gets off the bed.
I don't know why but the way they both react bothers me.
"You're back already." Charlotte says with the same voice from when I caught her sneaking in after her curfew. "I wasn’t expecting you back so soon."
"Clearly." I mutter while I cross the room, lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. Her color is better than last night. The monitor beside her bed gives its steady quiet beat.
Silence settles.
"Well," Sienna breaks the silence, "I should get going. I just wanted to check in. And drop off Keith."
I turn around.
"Keith?"
Charlotte lights up, which does something to my irritation that I don't appreciate. She points at the cabinet beside the window where something green is sitting in a terracotta pot against the morning light. "The plant Sienna brought. I think it looks like a Keith." She glances at Sienna with the expression of a private joke I’m not privy to. "Don't ask why. It just does."
Sienna glances back with amusement dancing in her eyes, which means she absolutely knows why.
They have a whole conversation in that look.
I've missed whatever percentage of my sister's life contains a language I don't speak.
"Most people bring flowers," I say. "They're more cheerful."
I'm not being amiable. I'm aware of that. But Sienna's jaw tightens slightly and I find, that I'm glad that I rattled her.
"Clearly you don't know much about plants." She narrows her eyes at me. "Studies show that post-surgery patients with plants in their room have better mood outcomes, lower analgesic requirements, fewer complications, and shorter stays."
I make a scoffing sound.
