Page 33 of Hail Marry
“Ma’am,” she says like I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever talked to, “there’s a zero balance on the account.”
I blink. “What?”
“I see a payment was made based on the early estimate we provided. Now, that may change once your insurance processes things—there could be some small, residual amount owing at that point—but at this time, there’s nothing to pay.”
I sit with the phone against my ear, mouth open, nothing to say.
“Ma’am?” Mara says.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just…a little confused. Is it still processing with insurance? Is that why the amount isn’t showing due yet?”
“As I said, ma’am, there was a payment made. I can see it right here on my computer.”
“But that’s not possible. I haven’t paid anything. I didn’t even know how much the bill was until I got this letter today. Not a bill, yeah, I know,” I cut her off. “Are you sure you’re looking at the right account?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she says, audibly annoyed at my lack of confidence in her.
I sit in silence for a few more seconds. There’s got to be some error. “Who paid it?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information due to privacy policies,” she says like a billing robot.
“You can’t tell me who paidmybill? Can you tell meanything?”
I can almost hear her pursing her lips in annoyance. “The payment was made over the phone three days ago by credit card. Sometimes people make payments on the patient’s behalf. You could check with any friends or family you might have.”
Mara sounds like she sincerely doubts I have any such people matching that description in my life.
“But—” I cut myself off. She doesn’t want to listen to me processing things. But the truth is, no one in my family and none of my close friends even know I was at the hospital. Luca, Zach, and Jess are the only people who know. Jess’s sweet as pie, but she doesn’t have a spare five grand, and no offense to Zach, but he doesn’t seem the type to go paying off the medical bills of strangers out of the goodness of his heart.
I guess Tyler knows. And Ryan, probably. But the thought of either of them doing this is laughable.
Which leaves Luca.
“I’ll do that,” I say into the phone. “Thank you for your help, Mara.”
Once she hangs up—best part of her day—I bring my phone to my chest, staring absently at my room. My $5000 bill is paid. Zero balance.
Have there ever been two more glorious words?
I turn suddenly and head to the living room. Luca’s leaning forward, reading the miniscule text on one of his forms as he scrubs a hand over his stubble.
Did he really do this?
The idea is crazy to me. But who else could have?
He glances back at me, and his brows tug together. “You okay?”
I walk to the couch. “Um, yeah. Very okay, actually. I just called the hospital about my bill, and they told me something interesting.”
His eyes grow a bit more intent as I sit, but he doesn’t say anything.
“They said my bill had been paid.” I hold his gaze, and we stare at each other.
It’s a full-blown stare down.
“That’s good,” he finally says.
I’ll give it to him—the man has a good poker face. It’s kind of the only face he has, actually. He looks like he couldn’t care less about anything, but in reality, he’s helping old ladies at vending machines and saving thoughtless young ladies from death and medical debt, which can feel like the same thing.
