The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

“Today was . . . difficult.” And it wasn’t over either.

His expression softened, reminding me of his mother’s sympathetic one. “Royce mentioned you and Sophia are . . . friends.”

I understood what he meant. “Yes.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but a woman in hospital attire approached. “Mr. Hale?”

Both of us turned, and she hesitated. Her gaze bounced from me to my son, unsure which of us to address.

She gave up trying to figure it out. “Come on back.”

He turned to me and sounded unsteady. “Want me to come with you?”

I appreciated the offer. “No. Thank you.”

He nodded. “If you get a chance, tell us how she’s doing. I’m sure Marist will want to know too.”

After he left, I told the woman I’d like to change first, and she led me to a private restroom.

“When you’re finished,” she said, “she’s in room four. It’s just down there.” She pointed to the hallway leading away from the nurses’ station, and then she left me to it.

When I emerged in the new clothes, I felt marginally more composed, but still not myself. I longed for my cold indifference, the emotionless state I typically operated in. It’d make the impending conversation easier.

“Come in,” Sophia called when I knocked on the door.

She sat angled up on a bed that looked too much like a gurney to likely provide comfort. She had on a pale blue hospital gown, a thick white blanket pulled up and tucked beneath her arms. Her long hair was wavy and wild, her pale face devoid of any makeup, and although she was still beautiful, it made her look impossibly young.

When she saw me, her brilliant smile burst on her face, lighting up the entire room. I hadn’t seen anyone ever look at me like that before, as if I were the center of their universe, and presented with this evidence, I couldn’t deny it any longer.

Sophia Alby was absolutely in love with me.

Something deep inside me warmed and came alive, but I suspected it was merely my pride responding, enjoying her affection. At least, that’s all I hoped it was.

“My hero,” she said, both teasing and serious, her eyes going glassy with tears, but she blinked them back. She lifted an arm to reach out for me, but then slowed and grimaced, pressing her other hand to the center of her chest for support.

“Don’t.” I wasn’t sure if I meant for her not to move, or for her not to label me a hero.

She waved her fingers to encourage. “Come here.”

Although my desire to go to her was strong, I stayed in place and forced my gaze to sweep the narrow room. My hatred for hospitals ran deep. With the exceptions of the births of my sons, I always lost here. My parents. My wife. My chance with Marist.

And now I’d lose whatever it was I had with Sophia.

“I left a message with your parents,” I said, pretending to study the signage about proper handwashing posted over the sink. “I couldn’t reach them.”

“They’re in Fiji for their anniversary.” She was impatient. “Macalister, please.”

I set my attention on her, not able to avoid it any longer. “I think it’s better if we maintain some distance right now.”

Chagrin took hold in her. “And why’s that? You didn’t want distance when we were on the boat. You didn’t have a problem with it in the ambulance.”

She’d curled her hand around mine as we’d sped through the streets of Cape Hill and on to Port Cove. I’d allowed her to twine our hands together, wanting to maintain our connection just as fiercely as she did. Or perhaps more.

I raked my fingers through my hair, destroying the work I’d done in the restroom to make it lay flat. “I have gained some perspective since then.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care about your perspective right now. You saved my life, Macalister. Come here and let me thank you for it.”

“I didn’t save your life.” I sighed with frustration. “It’s not heroic for a man to rescue someone from a burning building when he’s the one who started the fire.”

She stared at me unblinking as she digested what I’d just said, before lifting her gaze to the ceiling. “Oh, my God, this is the curse thing?”

I swallowed thickly. “You stopped breathing. You nearly died.”

She shook her head. “For such a smart man, you’re being really fucking stupid.”

Anger flooded through me, and I charged forward, not realizing she’d baited me until it was too late. It put me within striking distance, and she snagged my hand in hers.

Months ago, my touch had disabled her, but now I found myself in the opposite position. Her warm hand squeezed my fingers, and I felt lost. Adrift with nothing to hold on to but her.

“Listen to me,” she pleaded. “You’re not cursed.”