I MADE GOOD time getting to the hospital despite the New York City traffic. I pulled into the parking lot by nine a.m. I was still busy texting directions to my college student lab rat as I emerged from the elevator to the VIP suites. I immediately saw that I wasn't Maxwell's only visitor. There was a tall, blond man with black tips dyed into his hair. He had a large tattoo of a tribal mark peeping over his gray t-shirt. I didn't have to ask his name to know he was a sketchy character. His arms were crossed, and he was tapping his foot against one of the nursing medication carts that peppered the halls. He seemed nervous.
Robert "Bobby" Pinkerton, I presume?
As a portly nurse emerged from the room holding a blood pressure monitor, she shooed him out of the way.
"I asked Mr. Weston. He said family only, Mr. Pinkton," the nurse said. "He says he's not ready for friends yet."
"He doesn't have any family!" Bobby yelled. "I'm the only person who knows anything about him."
"Ah-hem," I said as I put my cell phone away. I placed my hands on my hips and tried to look like I belonged here. "He does have family."
"Who are you?" Bobby asked, squinting his slimeball greenish eyes at me. "Go away; Maxwell doesn't need any hookers today."
"I'm his wife," I said in my most authoritative voice. Bobby called me a hooker. That must mean my top was low-cut enough. I had picked it up on my way to the hospital from a Forever 21. They were having an 80% off sale. I could see why no one else wanted to buy this particular top at full price; it was practically a tube top with spaghetti straps. I wondered if this was what the clubby young people were wearing these days. It showed off more of my bra than it concealed.
"WIFE?" Bobby asked. "What the heck? Who put you up to this?"
"He said that when Scarlett Weston came to show her in," the nurse said, and took me by the arm. She dragged me away from the furious boy, whose eyes were practically bulging out of his head. "Come, Mrs. Weston, your husband, has been asking for you all morning."
I nodded as the nurse closed the door behind us and led me down a hallway into the VIP suite. "You're lucky. He's very confused about most things, but he remembers you perfectly. It just shows that even in the face of impossible odds, true love prevails."
I laughed softly. True love? Weston was in love with me as long as I was a non-threatening carbon copy of his mommy.
"Thank goodness you're here, Scar," Maxwell said. His face broke out in a smile when he saw me. He went as far as to immediately make room for me on his narrow hospital bed. He raised his hand to me. "I thought for a while there that last night was a dream."
"Oh? You were so zonked out from all the pain meds last night; I didn't think you would remember a thing," I said and reached into my bag and withdrew the new cellphone Joey had given me earlier. I placed it in his open palm in lieu of giving him my hand. He only looked a little disappointed to have cold metal in his palm instead of my warm fingers.
"No, maybe it was my brush with death, maybe it was seeing you again — but I feel like my head is finally clear," Maxwell assured me. "Come sit with me."
He patted a spot on the bed beside him. I pulled up a chair instead and sat down an arm's length away.
"You're mad at me," Maxwell finally said, as though he were searching for an explanation as to my aloof behavior. "I understand. I'm the reason you're stuck here at a hospital during the holidays. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
YOU ARE READING
Fake It All the WayRomance
When Ph.D. candidate Scarlett is forced to play loving wife to her mentor's playboy son, the last thing she expects is to fall for the fantasy herself. ***** Scarlett Rong has ded...