Bought For Marriage
“Kinsley Taylor?”
The feminine voice was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place from where I recognized it. “Yes?”
“This is Julia Connor with Luxe Connections. We met at Jack and Sylvia Hawthorne’s wedding.”
Considering the offer she’d made me during the reception, that encounter was quite memorable. “Now’s not really a great time for me, Julia. Could I call you back this afternoon?”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But please make sure it isn’t later than today. The matter I’d like to discuss with you is time sensitive.”
“Will do,” I promised, disconnecting the call and tucking my phone back into my purse. Although she’d piqued my curiosity, my focus immediately shifted to more important matters as I rode the elevator up to Graham’s floor and walked down the long hallway to his room. Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile onto my face before I pushed the door open and called out with as much cheer as I could muster, “Candygram!”
“Too funny,” he chuckled, but it quickly turned into a groan of pain.
I rushed to his bedside and put the box of his favorite candy on the nearby table. Carefully, I fussed with his pillows and pressed my lips against his forehead. “Your temperature seems good.”
“It was the same as it always is when the nurse last came in to do a vitals check.”
“That’s good news, right?” I asked.
His normally bright blue eyes, so similar to the ones I saw each time I looked in a mirror, were dulled by pain. “I don’t know, sis. This is probably the only time in my life I wished I had a fever.”
“That’s not entirely true,” I disagreed, dropping onto the chair next to his bed. “There was that one time when you took the thermometer and held it up to a lightbulb for so long that it registered one hundred and seven degrees, and mom freaked out. She had you just about bundled into the car for a trip to the emergency room before you fessed up about trying to skip school.”
“True,” he conceded. “But this time a fever would get me a hell of a lot more than an excused absence.”
“What do you mean?”
When he reached out and took hold of my hand, I braced myself for bad news. “My insurance denied the appeal for my surgery.”
“What?” I shrieked. “No! That’s not possible. You need it.”
“I know, but apparently they still think that the surgery isn’t medically necessary for my diagnosis. And if they eventually budge on that point, they also made it clear that they consider the specific surgery I need to be experimental in nature because it hasn’t been performed on enough patients to be considered the usual standard of care needed.”
“Not even with all the additional information your doctor provided? We sent an insane amount of paperwork to document exactly why the only option for you is spine surgery if you’re going to have any relief from the pain.”
I wasn’t exaggerating when I called it insane, either. I’d made sure we submitted every single thing his doctor and social worker thought would help sway the insurance company. We documented how the surgery was necessary to his daily functioning. The amount of pain he’d suffer if the surgery didn’t happen. Every medicine, therapy, and procedure they’d already tried that had failed. How his diagnosis and treatment history brought him to the point where he had no other alternatives. I’d been completely certain they’d change their minds, even when his doctor had tried to prepare me for the worst-case scenario.
“I don’t understand how someone could have reviewed your case and said no,” I cried, tears filling my eyes. “I’m so sorry I failed you.”
His grip tightened on my hand. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Kinsley. I know you tried your hardest, and it means everything to me.”
“If I had the money—” I sniffled.
“No playing the ‘what-if’ game. It’s not going to do us any good.” He offered me a small smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Without the insurance coverage, the surgery isn’t going to happen. Not unless someone decides to throw a couple hundred thousand dollars of charity my way. And I’m not too proud to admit it. I’m at the point where I’d be willing to accept it.”
I dropped my head onto his chest, holding on tight until his hand loosened around mine and I heard his light snores. Gently tucking his arm under the sheet, I bent over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Sleep well, big brother,” I whispered.
It was the only time he wasn’t in a horrible amount of pain, but rest in the hospital was a hard thing to come by with how often the nurses needed to come in and check on him. I left the room and shut the door behind me as quietly as I could. Stopping at the nurse’s station, I caught the attention of one of the aides.