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“What about the Oscar dress fitting?” she asked, pleased she remembered.
“Still scheduled for later in the week,” Harry responded. “But the designer is dying for you to wear her dress, so I’m confident I can get her to change the appointment,” he added, catching on to her unspoken new plan.
“Can you schedule the costume folks for sometime Monday afternoon and then the designer on Tuesday morning? That way I can drive down Monday morning and head back on Tuesday afternoon.”
“Is there a reason you’re rushing back, my darling?” Harry asked. His tone might have been teasing, but she knew better. He wanted an answer. A real one. As one of the most romantic and emotional men she knew, seeing her in love, and maybe even married, would be a highlight of his life. And if it were to a Warwick, then even better.
“Lots of reasons,” she responded. Her nonanswer would irritate him, but mentioning Asher seemed premature. Sure, they’d shared that moment in the bathroom when he almost kissed her. And yes, she’d considered it, too. Considered leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. But when Asher backed away, it hadn’t surprised her. Only moments before, he’d found her hiding in a closet, terrified and clutching a knife. He wasn’t the kind of man who would kiss her for the first time after something like that. She should be glad he had that level of integrity. Shewasglad. But that didn’t mean she didn’t also want the kiss. Or that she wasn’t disappointed when he’d stepped away.
Harry sighed. “Fine. But don’t think you’ll avoid me when you get down here. You know you will crumble at my truth-serum stare.”
He had a point. She would. Harry had a way of half coaxing, half guilting her into telling him things she didn’t tell anyone else. Thankfully, she trusted him. He might be nosy as all get out, but whatever went in, he locked up tight as a vault. Not once had she worried about him revealing personal information about her.
“We’ll see,” she replied.
“We both know how this will play out, so we won’t waste any more time discussing it. I’ll call everyone tomorrow and confirm appointment times. Once the times are locked down, I’ll send you a text. Drive safe. Love you. See you soon.”
Before she had a chance to reply, he hung up. Mentally, she began rearranging her week, including adjusting her Tuesday meeting with Dr. Garcia from the morning to the afternoon. She’d just sent the doctor a text with the request when Asher responded.
Asher:Just visiting some patients. Will be done in about fifteen minutes. I’ll come get you
Without giving it a thought, she responded.
Ellie:Where are you? I’ll come to you
He’d been so cautious about ensuring she could remain out of the public eye that it surprised her when, without further comment, he sent the floor and ward information. That he didn’t question her request gave her pause. Maybe sheshouldwait for him in Dr. Garcia’s waiting room. Maybe he was too busy to deal with her. Then, with a shake of her head, she rose. Asher was an adult. If he didn’t want her on the ward, he would have said so.
It took her a few minutes to figure out how to get from the medical office wing to the hospital. And then a few more to find the ward. When she was certain she’d found the right place, she approached the nurses’ station where an older woman greeted her and handed her a visitor’s badge. As soon as it hung from Ellie’s jacket, the nurse led her through a maze of halls until they stopped at an open doorway. Where she found Asher perched on the side of a bed, playing sock puppets with the young occupant.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the other three children that shared the room all laughed. As did Asher. A feeling of happiness stole over her at the rich sound. It filled her with warmth, and a smile spread across her face.
“He’s so good with them,” the nurse whispered. Ellie nodded. It was more than Asher being good with the kids, though. There was a sort of magic happening between him and the young patients, and the energy in the room radiated warmth and kindness.
“What ward is this?” Ellie asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
A sad look flitted across the nurse’s features. “Pediatric oncology.”
Ellie felt the words like a punch to the gut as she scanned the room. Four boys filled the four beds. None of them older than fifteen. All of them fighting one of the hardest fights they’d probably ever face. And they were laughing.
“Is Dr. Warwick here often?” she asked.
“Less now that he’s the chief medical officer, of course. But he still makes it down three or four times a week. Even if for just a short visit. Like tonight.”
The room suddenly fell silent. Then it filled with the kind of excited murmur she’d heard thousands of times before.
“That’s her,” one of the older boys said. One of the younger ones asked who he was talking about, but the oldest boy chimed in.
“You look like Ellie Cavanaugh,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.
Asher turned, the expression on his face wary. No doubt worried about how she would react to the boys, to being recognized. She wished he had more faith in her, but that would come with time.
She beamed at the boy who’d identified her. “That’s because I am,” she said, walking into the room. “And you are?”
The boy blinked, stuttered, then held out his hand. “Cyrus Abbot,” he said.
“Well, Cyrus Abbot, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m guessing you’ve seen a few of my movies?”
He nodded. “I saw that action film you did last year. You kicked as—” He cut himself off with a sheepish look at the two youngest kids. “Butt. You kicked butt. You’re my mom’s favorite movie star, too. Your movies are ona lotat our house.”
