Page 93 of Paging Dr. Hart
Stewart’s still talking. “And I had to cover the tracks you stupidly left behind.”
I had been right. Stewart had protected me, had done whatever he needed to do in order to hide my crime. No wonder the police never came. I swallow hard, realizing that if he hadn’t intervened, my entire life could have turned out differently. All my dreams of becoming a doctor came true because of what he did.
“I appreciate that, Stewart. You have no idea how much. Everything in my life I owe to your shielding me from my own dumb, selfish mistakes. I’m sorry I put you in that position, but it was kind of you to help me. I didn’t deserve it.”
Tears threaten, but I won’t yield to them. I don’t want Stewart to believe I’m trying to manipulate him in any way. I’ve promised myself to be completely honest during this conversation. To throw away all the false masks I’ve worn over the years.
“You sure as hell didn’t.” An angry scowl dominates Stewart’s features. “You could have asked me, you know. If you needed money, you could have told me and I would have helped.”
“I know you would, but I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to end up beholden to you. That would have been leading you on, which I was trying not to do.” I shift on the uncomfortable bench.
“Agreeing to come to a party with me and wearing a pretty dress wasn’t leading me on? If you were trying to avoid that, then you did a poor job of it.” His clenched jaw ticks.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else to say. I knew this would be a hard conversation, but a little part of me had hoped that Stewart would forgive me. I’m losing that hope now.
Mouth in a straight line, he stays silent, not accepting my apology. Again, I’m taken aback by the changes in Stewart. His face is stern, and his eye contact is direct. It makes me sad, missing the bashful sweet man I had known.
How we all have changed.
“Wait,” I say, a thought occurring to me. “If you covered for me, then why did the guard try to stop us when we were leaving the Luxor?”
“They stopped everyone from the party. The police tried to retain all the guests for questioning because of the shooting. They wanted statements from the witnesses.”Oh yeah, I was still wearing my mask so the guard would have known I was from the party.It all makes sense now. Stewart shoots me a look like he can’t believe I didn’t figure it out on my own, but how could I? Back then, I was too wrapped up in my guilt to think through all the possibilities.
Stewart’s eyes shift to something behind me. I follow his gaze and see he’s looking at the car where Ethan stares at us intently.
“Looks like you have a bodyguard with you today,” he comments.
“No bodyguard. He’s my,” I pause, uncertain how to describe Ethan. We haven’t had the “define our relationship” talk yet, but given the declaration of love he made yesterday I feel confident enough to say, “my boyfriend.”
“He knows about the diamonds you just gave away?” He arches a brow and tilts his head, blinking at me owlishly.
“Yes, he does.” I had told Ethan about my plan this morning, and he had agreed it was a good idea. It was a relief to be honest with him. I won’teverlie to him again.
“Besides, I’m pretty sure you have a much more professional bodyguard than I do.” I wave toward Stewart’s town car and the brawny man inside. “Is it always like that?” I ask him. “Do you always have a bodyguard with you now that you run the Luxor?”
His face is grim. “I usually have someone with me if I don’t want to end up like my father.” He sighs, and some of his anger seems to deflate as the air blows out of him. “It’s a hard job running a casino. Always surrounded by people, but I’m still alone. Maybe it’s better this way. I never was much good at making or keeping friends.”
An urge to reassure Stewart that I’m his friend comes over me, but I hold my tongue. That would be overstepping. As much as I want him to realize he’s not alone, I understand I gave away our friendship when I acceptedthe invitation to that party. Still, Ethan has shown me how persistence and patience can thaw even the most frozen heart. Hopefully, there’s still a chance with Stewart.
“Look,” I begin. I brace for rejection but plow ahead anyway. “I don’t deserve it. You have every right to say no, but would it be all right if I emailed you sometimes? Maybe called you just to see how you’re doing? You may not believe me, but I really counted you as my friend.”
Lips pursed, Stewart contemplates my offer. “What about your boyfriend? Wouldn’t that bother him?”
Glancing again at Ethan, I send him a tight smile to reassure him that I’m okay. “He’s not like that. He trusts me.”
Stewart stares at an empty space over my head, his lips tight in a frown. “I don’t know about being friends again. I’m not sure I can do that with you. Not sure I want to.”
Even though I’m expecting it, hearing his words stings. I look down at the mottled brown-green grass under my feet. “I understand.”
A plane drones overhead, the only sound between us.
Finally, Stewart stands up. He takes a quick breath. “I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can do.”
Wind stirs the leaves by our feet, and I shiver. I gather my sweater tight and button it up. As we walk back to the parking lot, I tell him, “That’s all I’m asking for.” I’m grateful for even that small glimmer of hope. I truly want to mend our relationship.
It’s time to make friends again.
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