Page 20 of The Fake Husband Play
“I’m so sorry,chère,” I murmur, meaning it. “That’s damned hard. And not right. No kid should have toworry about getting the medicine they need. Especially not in a country as rich as this one.”
“Right? I mean, it’s just so awful and sad.” She turns to me, her eyes shining. “But you are so nice. Like…sonice. For real nice.”
“I try to be,” I say, with a soft laugh. “Like my mama always said, it doesn’t cost a damned cent extra to be kind. And we need more kindness in the world.”
“My foster mom used to say that, too,” she says, a smile curving her lips. “And now, I say it to Mimi. Mimi is my little girl’s name.”
“It’s a pretty one,” I say, wishing we knew each other well enough for me to offer her a hug.
Yes, I’ve been having impure thoughts about this woman for days, but right now, I just want to hold her and promise her everything will be all right.
We’re quiet for a long moment, smiling at each other in the dim room as the air charges with something I can’t name but don’t want to lose. Something that makes me want to touch her face, to whisper that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure her baby never suffers and she doesn’t, either.
Mystery Woman isn’t a complete mystery anymore; she’s a beautiful, funny, fierce single mom, working a part-time catering job in a tiny pair of shorts to provide for her sick kid, and I’m pretty sure I just finished falling head over heels for her.
But before I can figure out a way to tell her I want to help without hurting her pride, her phone rings.
Her eyes go round at the sound, a digital rendition of a song that was popular a year or so ago. “Oh God, that’s Nancy, my babysitter’s ring. She only calls when I’m at work if something’s wrong. Shit!” She answers onthe second ring in a breathless rush, “Nancy? What’s wrong? Is Mimi okay, are you?—”
She breaks off with a soft gasp.
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but one look at her rapidly paling face is all I need to know it’s not good news. In the span of a few seconds, her expression transitions from worried to panicked.
“I’m on my way right now. Hang tight.” She’s already moving, scrambling to her feet while balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder. “No, Nancy, don’t worry about the cost of the ambulance. You were right to call 911. You don’t have a car and you can’t carry a kid spiking a hundred and four fever down to the bus. I’ll meet you at the hospital as fast as I can. I just have to find my boss and tell her I have to go.”
She hangs up and starts for the door. “I’m sorry, I have to—” She trips over my foot in the cramped space, but I catch her before she hits the ground.
My hands go around her waist, pulling her close to steady her. For a moment, we’re chest to chest, her hands braced on my shoulders, both of us breathing faster from the sudden contact.
“I’ve got you,” I say, meaning it more than I should.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she whispers, but she doesn’t step away. “I have to tell Charlotte that Mimi is sick and find an Uber or something. The bus will be way too slow.”
“Where are you headed? Saint Bart’s ER?”
She shakes her head. “No, the Children’s Hospital. Nancy said that’s where they’re taking her.”
I nod. “Great. That’s closer. I’ve got a car. I’ll take you. Meet me out front by the valet stand?”
“But what about the party?”
“Screw the party,” I say. “We need to get you to your girl. She’ll feel so much better with her mama there.”
Her big brown eyes begin to shine again. “You’re right. She will. Thank you so much. I’ll meet you out front as fast as I can.”
“I’ll see you there,chère,” I assure her as we step into the hall. “Just keep breathing. We’ll get you through this in one piece.”
“Thank you. Really. So much,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at me one last time before turning to run down the hall as fast as her heeled feet will carry her.
I head for the valet stand, hesitating only a beat to tell Parker that a friend of mine needs me to drive her to the hospital, and he’ll have to find another way home.
“Of course, brother,” he says, his blue eyes worried. “Take care and let me know how it goes. I hope everything’s okay.”
“Thanks. Me, too,” I say, thankful for his understanding. I have a feeling he’d be just as cool about this if he knew my “friend” is a woman I’ve known all of ten minutes.
Parker’s good people.
So is…
