Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Armand is prattling in my ear like it never happened. “I’m calling to share the good news, darling. I’m expanding into New Rome, opening seven new locations.”
I make appropriate happy noises. I’m still waking up.
“I have a new investor. Just listen to his name: Sebastian St. James. Doesn’t it just scream wealth and power?”
I murmur my agreement, but I only understand half of what he’s saying.
“I nearly swooned when I met him,” Armand continues. “So stern and handsome. But young.” A pause, and then he adds, “You must meet him.”
“Uh, no,” I say quickly. Is Armand seriously matchmaking right now? “I think I’m good with the one I got.”
“Are you now?” Armand’s tone is so offhand, I know he’s super interested.
“Yes. Definitely. Logan is the man for me. Speaking of which,” I close my eyes as my stomach knots in embarrassment. “Uh, I’m sorry you came to my wedding...and it never happened.”
“It’s no problem, girl. I’m always happy to plan a wedding.”
I wince. I hadn’t realize he’d planned the whole thing. When I say so, he laughs.
“Your wedding, when it happens, will be the event of the year. I will make it so.”
“Uhh, thanks,” I make a mental note to elope if I ever want to say ‘I do.’ “Is Cora mad? She and her husband came all this way, and—”
“Don’t worry about that. Cora of all people understands what it’s like to be held captive by the man you love,” he says, which is not really an answer.
I frown into the phone. “Logan isn’t holding me captive.”
“Isn’t he?”
“All right, sorta. But...he isn’t holding me against my will.” Not really. Not any more. “He didn’t capture me. He saved me.”
There’s a long silence where he digests my words, and I feel relief at the life I escaped. I’m not CEO of my father’s company anymore, and so much has changed, but at least I’m living life on my terms.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. It’s one day at a time. Tell me more about your new spa.” He happily changes the subject and we chat easily for a few more minutes. He jokes a few more times about planning my wedding as the “event of a lifetime.”
I end the call and droop against my pillows, wondering if I can borrow his certainty about my future. There’s no way I can marry Logan when I know I’m dying. I won’t shackle him to me, and he won’t let me go.
Only one thing to do, I tell myself as I rise out of bed, hobbling towards the bathroom to start my day. Keep moving forward. Don’t waste a minute.
We will find a cure. We have to.
Logan
“Good morning, dove,” Daphne calls out in a singsong as her chair finishes riding on the track I installed down the wall of stairs.
I look up from the microscope. I didn’t know she was awake yet.
My breath catches for a moment. She’s so beautiful. She’s finally started putting on more weight again, even if just the slightest bit. I’m constantly trying to get her to eat more. But she just doesn’t have much of an appetite.
I would have been far happier simply carrying her down and up the stairs every day but her independence is important to her. And what’s important to her is important to me. I get it, I do. When I was stuck in that hospital, I hated having to wait for someone to bow and scrape for my every need.
But those were strangers. This is me. It’s been a hard lesson to learn. But we’re getting there.
“What are you working on?” She rolls over to my side and immediately her hand comes to my bare forearm where I rolled my sleeves up. I love that the second she sees me, it’s unconscious, she has to touch me. Reestablish contact. I cover her hand with my own and squeeze.
With a single touch, my tether to this world comes back into focus. I will be strong, for her.
“Same old, same old. The super T cells we treat with the rose essence colonize well enough in the petri dishes, but the ones that survive reentry into the body and start replicating just don’t last that long.”
She nods. This is the problem that we’ve been facing for weeks now. She wheels her chair over to the microscope where I’m working. I step aside and she fits her eyes to the sights. “At least it’s latching onto the Battleman’s antigen cells. We’ve got our targeting spot on.”
What does that matter, if we can’t deliver it into the body where it’s needed? I want to shout. But no, I never show my frustrations in front of her. I was selfish for too long. No more. Daphne’s going to get the version of Logan she should have gotten all along.
“Little by little,” I say.