Page 87 of Twisted Prince

“Does that mean I can go home?” I ask, relief flooding me as my eyes shift to Gleb for confirmation. My heart skips a beat to see his green eyes watching me intently, and I look back at the doctor before the heart monitor goes berserk.

“With your level of improvement, that should be fine. If your head continues to hurt, you can take another dose of acetaminophen—not ibuprofen—up to every four hours.”

“Okay.”

“But if any of your symptoms get worse, you need to seek immediate medical attention. Your husband here says you were on your way home to New York when you got in the accident?”

The word husband knocks the wind from my lungs, and I gape at the doctor for a moment before realizing that would only draw unwanted attention. Attempting to recover quickly, I pull my lips into a smile and answer, “Mm-hmm.”

But with the heat that pools in my belly, I don’t trust myself to use words. I scarcely hear the doctor’s next directions as I wrap my mind around the thought of being married to Gleb. It sends an unexpected wave of giddiness to my stomach, releasing butterflies. The heart monitor grows more persistent, but thankfully, the doctor doesn’t seem to notice as he finishes his instructions.

“Well then, it’s perfectly fine to seek your local professional if you need to, but do so if the concussion symptoms—headaches, nausea, dizziness, confusion—continue for longer than a week. You may need further testing.” Dr. Heinz finishes his explanation as he scribbles notes on my chart. Then he gives us each a nod. “The nurse will be in shortly to give you a dose of acetaminophen and help you on your way.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Gleb says, rising to shake his hand before Dr. Heinz departs.

37

GLEB

“Husband?” she asks as soon as the door closes behind him. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows arc in surprise as she turns to look at me, her onyx eyes shining with what must be amusement.

“It was the only way they would allow me in the room with you, and Gabby was too little to come in alone.” I keep my voice even, though a strange heat creeps up the back of my neck to my ears.

Mel smiles bashfully. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

I shrug. “It’s not your fault.”

To my surprise, her eyes suddenly shine with unshed tears, and I can’t fathom why. The trauma of everything that’s happened since she called must be catching up to her. But in true Mel style, she licks her lips and swallows the emotion down to give me a brave smile.

“Thank goodness it was only for three days, right?” she jokes.

A deep ache tightens my chest, and I nod. “Right.”

I have to remember, Mel called me in a state of severe distress. Nothing’s changed.

She just needed an escape.

The door clicks open, shattering the painful moment as the nurse enters.

“Well, Miss O’Mara, I hear you’re feeling well enough that we can get you dressed and ready to go,” the young brunette says sweetly.

“I picked up some clothes for you,” I say, gesturing to one of the empty chairs. “I’ll go… get us a rental car and meet you out front.”

Mel nods, giving Gabby a tight squeeze and pressing her cheek to the top of her daughter’s head. A silent signal that she won’t be letting her out of her sight.

And as the nurse approaches the hospital bed, I slip silently from the room.

A rental doesn’t take me long to find. I ditched the old man’s car as soon as I got the chance because, even if it didn’t get reported stolen, Vinny’s men were sure to have come looking for it. I rent a simple sedan along with a car seat and pull up to the hospital entrance a half hour later.

A nurse rolls Mel out the door in a wheelchair as I step out of the car and come around to open the passenger-side door.

“Really, I’m fine,” Mel insists as the nurse carts her right up to the car, Gabby on her lap.

“It’s hospital policy,” the nurse assures her, locking the tires.

As I lift Gabby from her mom’s lab, Mel gets shakily from her wheelchair and leans on the back door.

“I can strap her in,” she insists when she sees me buckling Gabby’s car seat.

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