Page 37 of Facing Off
Wife?!
The numbers on the heart rate monitor jump. The nurse pays it no major attention since she’s smiling at Hughes and he’s…not correcting her?
“Did she just say—” I ask sharply.
“Sonya is married tohim?” Nina interrupts, her eyes going round. She pulls out her phone. “Is he who I think he is?”
I wait for Hughes to clear the air. To tell everyone he’s either lying or kidding. He doesn’t say anything.
Now it’s up to me to speak up, but I don’t know what to say. I’m frozen. Not just from the shock of this gigantic lie, but because it feels like this moment has folded all the stress inside me into a tighter, heavier knot.
I’m quiet. Too quiet.
What’s wrong with me?
I pull at my hair, which finally snags Hughes’ attention. What’s with that look on his face? He’s gone all stiff, and his jaw muscles are flexing. What’s he staring at?
It’s the hospital bracelet around my wrist.
Hughes turns to the nurse. “Tell me everything. I need to know what happened.”
In the background, Madame Kozlova and Nina huddle around her phone, reading something. Her screen tilts long enough for me to catch a glimpse. It’s Adrian Hughes’ online biography.
Okay, what the actual hell is happening?I’m clearly in a coma.Hospital drugs have brought my nightmares alive, and now they feel real.
“Sonya had a fall,” explains the nurse. “Her partner’s elbow hit her head.”
Hughes’ nostrils flare. “What partner?”
That’snot a tone I’ve heard him use before. It’s blunt and gravelly.
“Who did this to her?” Blue eyes flash over and land on me, darkening further. “Who did this to you, darling?”
The nurse laughs. “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Hughes. Sonya’s vitals are okay. Her scans came back good.”
“We need to run them again,” he says, as if that’s a completely reasonable request.
“What? No.” Finally, I have some energy to argue.
Hughes doesn’t like that answer. I see his reaction: the rise and fall of his chest under his gear as he frowns. His measured steps as he comes closer, blotting out some of the light above. The pads on his shoulders make him seem even bigger than usual.
The rest of the room feels like a dollhouse replica when both his hands palm the scratchy hospital sheets on either side of my legs.Sandalwood, soap, mint.
He lowers his voice, eyes fastening on mine. “Tell me you aren’t pretending to be fine.”
Why would he ask me that?
He simply looks at me, as if he’s trying to figure out exactly what I’m thinking.
I lift my legs up until they tuck against my body, away from him. My heart beats like a hummingbird, because he needs to stop. I don’t want him searching my expression as if heknowsme. He doesn’t.
My face burns. “Don’t,” I tell him.
“Don’t what, darling?” His voice goes low and sincere. Nothing like his usual cocky tone. “What do you need?”
Nothing, I want to shout at him. But shame and embarrassment turn my stomach, because again, he’s seeing me at one of my lowest points. I absolutely hate it. My teeth clench. I’m working my way up to getting annoyed.
“You’re such a good husband.” The nurse claps her hands together as if this ridiculous conversation is the sweetest exchange she’s seen. She gets busy unhooking me from the monitors and rattles off more information, like how we can leave as soon as I’m ready. Her parting request is an autograph. She hands him a marker. Hughes absentmindedly signs her scrubs.
