Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Quickly yanking the curtains across, I hurry from the room, feeling the lump in my throat growing. And as soon as I’m out of earshot, I let my emotions pour out of me in loud, body-jerking sobs, hearing his angry words playing on repeat in my head. I make it to the bottom of the stairs before I collapse to my arse on the last step and cradle my head in my lap to stifle the noise. My heart aches with hopelessness, and my head’s pounding with a stress I can’t take for much longer. I feel like I could break at any moment.
I somehow muster the energy to dial Dr. Smith’s office. But I don’t have energy beyond that to talk to him, so I leave a message with his secretary telling her we won’t be there for Billy’s appointment. Then I grab my bag and Boris’s lead, and head out. I need a time-out. Space to clear my head and try to find the determination that Billy just so easily knocked out of me. So I head off to pick up my dog, hoping he’s well enough to take a slow stroll home.
His tail is spinning like a propeller when they bring him into the reception area, his paws slipping across the tiles as he fights to get to me. “Boris,” I shriek, so happy to see him.
“He’s been a terrible guest,” the vet says, laughing. “Whining, scratching, and barking.”
“He was missing me.” I drop to my knees and let him trample all over my lap, giving him a day’s worth of love that he’s missed. And that I have missed too, for that matter. “Will he be okay?” I ask, looking up at her. “You said epilepsy.”
“Yes, but medication will keep his seizures under control.” She reaches for a paper bag and hands it over. “One tablet every day with his dinner.”
“For the rest of his life?” I take the bag and slip it into my handbag.
“Afraid so. Now, we only usually prescribe a month at a time, but I’ve bagged three-months’ worth until he needs to be assessed again, just to make sure all is as it should be. We’ll forward all the details of his treatment to his regular vet.” She hands me a sheet of paper on a smile. “Here’s the final bill. For the medication and the extra tests that we had to undertake.”
My eyes drop to the bill as my heart drops into my stomach. Oh, God, more tests, and now medication too. I swallow and take the paper, glancing down at the bottom line. It’s all I can do not to burst into tears when the figure greets me. “Four hundred and fifty,” I say to myself, reaching for my purse out of habit. Will they seize Boris because I can’t pay? Will I have to do a runner and hope they don’t find me before I have the money to settle my bill? Boris will die if I can’t pay for the medication he needs. Like my husband. I blink. Swallow. I can’t breathe through the blockage in my throat.
The lady spots my card in my hand and shakes her head. “The final bill’s been settled, Mrs. Harper. That’s just your copy of the invoice.”
“Excuse me?”
“A gentleman came by earlier.”
“A gentleman?”
“Yes, the man who you came in with last night. He paid the bill, but said he couldn’t take Boris as he had a meeting in a hotel that had a strict no pets policy. He said you’d be stopping by to get him.” She reaches for Boris’s head and scratches. “So we had to listen to a few more hours of your howls, didn’t we?”
I slowly rise, taking the lead from the vet. I should be smiling, overjoyed that Boris is okay and that I don’t have an enormous, unpayable bill to settle. But I’m a bit shell-shocked. “Thank you,” I whisper, hoping she hears gratitude past my obvious shock.
Why would he?
“You’re very welcome. Please call if you have any concerns.”
I nod on a weak smile and wander away, coming to a stop outside. He paid another bill? That’s over one thousand pounds he’s parted with. I look down at Boris, who’s sitting at my feet patiently, waiting for me to kick myself into gear and take him home. But I’m standing there for a good ten minutes in the cold, running over the same question.
I find his card and text him to ask.
Why?
His answer comes quickly.
Call it compensation for nearly killing you. Luke x
I shake my head on a disbelieving smile. The man is mad. I reply with a thank you and an assurance that he’ll get all the money back. Then I attempt to put one foot in front of the other.
Call it compensation for nearly killing you.