Loving the Crown (The Crown 3)

I could almost feel the prickly cold start to creep along my spine. The thought of the MRI was enough to make me nauseated.

“I-I don’t like small spaces. Claustrophobia.”

He rubbed the sharp angles of his jaw. “All you do is lie there. There’s nothing to it. It’s not a procedure, love.”

“Maybe for you,” I argued. “For me, it’s the beginning of a panic attack.” I realized how few people knew my secret. “Can you keep that between us?” I asked. “Please.”

“Ok. Ok. Let’s just see Dr. Fines first. It might not be that bad.” I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t believe a word of what he had said.

I nodded just as a wheelchair wheeled into view.

“That’s not necessary. I can walk.” But when I tried to stand, my knees buckled as a shot of pain fired to my fingertips.

“Whoa.” Liam’s arms caught me with a strong grip. “You’re going in the chair.”

I had practically wiped out in front of him and the nurse. I couldn’t debate my walking skills. I wasn’t going to win that argument.

“Fine.” He placed me in the chair and followed behind as the nurse wheeled me into an elevator.

We stopped on the fourth floor and I realized how different this part of the hospital looked from the first floor. We might as well be in a different building.

I glanced at a row of orchids on display. The lighting was soft, along with the classical music on the speakers overhead.

“Is this the same hospital?” I asked.

“Dr. Fines is at the end of the hall,” the nurse answered.

Everything seemed ridiculous. I had a nurse, a prince, and a security escort. I covered my mouth so no one saw me laughing. Was I delirious from the pain?

“Ahh, Your Highness.” A man with a startling white full head of hair greeted us. There was a stethoscope draped around his neck.

“Dr. Fines, thank you for seeing us.”

He glanced at me. “You are the patient, mademoiselle?”

I nodded, still confused when I was supposed to answer in Spanish or French. It was one of the things I loved about Galona. How the languages blended and flowed together, but there were times when it made me feel like a clunky American, stuck in a language that had neither flow nor finesse.

Liam helped me to the examination bed. It certainly wasn’t a table. It was lush and pilowy. I looked at it, realizing I hadn’t slept in almost twenty hours. Combined with jetlag, my workouts, and the all-day shooting marathon, I was exhausted in the deepest parts of my bones.

I’d accept the pain, if everyone would leave me alone and turn off the lights. I even spotted a throw tossed on a visitor’s chair. I eyed it longingly.

The nurse began to untie Liam’s jacket. I bit my lip when the grip loosened on my arm.

“We’re going to need to remove your coat,” she instructed.

I tried to helplessly wriggle out of the wet leather. I was embarrassed that underneath was nothing but a skimpy matching leather crop top. My stomach and chest were exposed. I heard the prince inhale quietly. I shivered.

“Hmm.” Dr. Fines looked at my shoulder over the bridge of his nose. His fingers pressed into my arm. “How did the injury happen?”

I looked at the prince, standing in the corner. “Well, I was on the set filming our season finale. Our closed set,” I corrected. “I was supposed to run and jump into the center of the fountain. I’d rehearsed the maneuver a hundred times today.” The doctor nodded along to my story. “But on the last take the path to the fountain wasn’t clear.” My eyes landed on Liam’s. “I didn’t see the prince and we fell into the fountain. I think I hit my arm on something on the way in.”

“I see.” Dr. Fines tapped my elbow and wrist gingerly. “At least that explains why you are both soaked like wet kittens.”

“I didn’t want to go into that fountain any more than you did.”

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

I wanted to get back to the set. I wanted to let Lance know I could film tomorrow. And I wanted my stomach to stop flipping every time his gaze caught mine. Every time his deep voice said my name. I had to get out of this hospital and away from the prince.