Page 49 of A Deal with the Devil

I picture a younger, less damaged version of Hayes. One before Ella left him for his father, before his world started to fall apart. “But then you decided rich actresses were suffering too.”

His mouth curves. “Yes, exactly that.”

He starts to rise, and I realize I’ve done it again. I felt something when he talked about Operation Smile and had to make a dumb joke to pretend I wasn’t feeling a thing.

“Wait,” I say, reaching out to grab his wrist. “I actually want to know what changed your mind.”

A muscle in his jaw flickers, and his gaze drops to the floor. I hang on the breath of air that passes, hoping he’ll tell me.

“I didn’t want to live in third world countries my entire life,” he says. “And what I do now pays a lot better than performing pediatric surgeries in a hospital setting.” His eyes drop to my hand still holding his wrist. “I’m going to get you some food.” I let go of him.

I know he hasn’t told me the truth, not all of it. I get that there’s a big difference in salary, but that doesn’t explain why he became someone who cared about that difference so much. He has a lavish house he doesn’t use and nice cars he doesn’t drive, and he spends little but works like a man who’s barely staying afloat.

“Is it the Great Gatsby thing?” I ask as he reaches the door. “Are you still trying to win Daisy’s heart?”

I see something melancholy pass over his face, gone as fast as it came, before he grimaces. “If you’re trying to imply that I wish to win my stepmother’s heart, you must be more ill than I thought.”

Deflecting a moment of vulnerability with jokes, I think, as my eyes flutter closed. He’s as good at my tricks as I am.

* * *

The warmth of the bed and my continuing exhaustion must have pulled me back to sleep again, because the next time my eyes open, the light in the room has shifted and there’s a note on the nightstand saying he’s downstairs and to call once I’m up. My dress, I notice, is now missing.

I ignore his note and walk downstairs, clad only in his oversized T-shirt. My body is sluggish but I’m mostly over the worst of things.

He’s in the living room, long legs spread on the couch with a medical journal in hand.

“Get back in bed,” he says, his head jerking up.

“I’m fine,” I reply, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “I need to be up and about.”

His eyes linger for half a second on my chest. “Something about you is definitely up and about.” He crosses the room and pushes me into a chair before he drapes a throw blanket over me.

“Thank you for doing all this,” I tell him, snuggling into the blanket as he walks into the kitchen.

“It’s kind of fun,” he says, putting bread in the toaster. “I’m reliving my childhood experience with the broken bird.”

“That bird died.”

“You should probably speak up if you catch me putting you in a box.” He pulls butter out of the fridge and glances over at me—a quick, sheepish glance that darts away almost as fast as it arrived. “I made you custard, if you’d like some. It’s what my housekeeper made me.”

“I can’t believe you knew how to make custard.”

He shrugs. “If I managed to get through med school, I figured I could probably master a recipe online.” He is acting so casual about this but I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me.

What a ridiculous thing to bring me to tears.

I blink them away while he hands me two slices of buttered toast and sets the custard on the end table beside me. Suddenly I’m famished.

“I’m really sorry about all this,” I tell him, avoiding eye contact until I’m sure I have my emotions under control. “Thank you so much for taking care of me.”

“It was the least I could do. I’m sure you caught it from the Westbrooks, which is my fault.”

“No, it was the—”

“Food poisoning doesn’t make anyone that sick for that long,” he says. “It wasn’t the sushi. The Westbrooks all had the flu the day we were there. You caught what they had.”

My shoulders sag. God, I hope I didn’t get all his guests sick. I’m not sure how he’s being so forgiving of the whole thing. “Well, I’ll finish my toast and get out of your hair.”