Page 66 of Dark Island: Rescue
"Everything is okay, Angel." He patted her hand, which he was still holding. "You are safe, and this is all good. I promise. You just need to be a little patient."
"I don't want to be patient." She shifted her eyes to Julian. "You seem to know what's going on with me. Spill."
Julian chuckled. "I'll leave it to Edgar. I'll just take a few preliminary readings, get you something to drink, and leave the two of you alone. Everything else can wait until after you have the talk."
Edgar groaned. "You don't happen to have any whiskey here, do you?"
Julian shook his head. "Sorry. But you know where you can find some. Carol and Lokan will gladly offer you a drink from the bar in the penthouse."
Angelica looked between them with her mouth slightly agape. "Are you two for real? I'm lying here on a hospital bed, not knowing what's wrong with me, and you are talking about getting a drink?"
"My apologies." Julian pulled out the thermometer from his coat pocket. "You are absolutely right." He took her temperature. "Looks good. You still have a fever, but it's no longer so high. Your body is taking well to the transition."
"What transition?" Angelica asked.
"Patience, Angel." Edgar gave her hand another squeeze.
Once Julian was done, he pulled out a cup from the cabinet, filled it with water, and put a bendy straw in it.
"Drink slowly." He handed her the cup and raised the back of the bed. "I'll be in my office if anyone needs me." He winked at Edgar and hoofed it out of the room.
Angelica chuckled. "The handsome doctor ran out of here as if his tail was on fire. Am I that scary?"
"Yes."
She glared at him. "You could've lied."
He winced, thinking of all the lies he'd told her during the time they'd been together. Over four months had passed since he'd met her in that café, and this talk was long overdue.
She took a break from slowly sipping on the water through the straw. "You have that guilty expression on your face. Start talking."
He swallowed. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound crazy. You're not going to believe me at first, and that's okay. But I need you to listen and not freak out."
"Edgar, you're scaring me."
"Don't be scared. You're fine. Better than fine, actually." He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles.
"Did you notice anything unusual about Frankie after she returned from the Perfect Match cruise? About how she looked?"
Angelica's brow furrowed. "She looked great. Amazing, actually. Like she'd been working out and having expensive facials. I asked her what her secret was, and she said it was love, which was a bullshit answer, but if the girl had some procedures done and didn't want anyone in the family to know, that's her business."
"She had a procedure, but not the kind you imagine." Edgar paused, trying to remember the speech he'd prepared. "Frankie has a genetic trait that runs in your family. On your mother's side. You have it too."
"What kind of genetic trait? Are you telling me I have some genetic disease?" Panic crept into her voice. "Is that why I'm here? Oh my God, is it cancer? It's cancer, isn't it?"
"No! Nothing like that. Angel, you're not sick. You're transitioning."
"Transitioning to what? I'm not transgender, Edgar. I love being a woman."
Despite the tension, Edgar laughed. Trust Angelica to jump to that conclusion. And she did love being awoman. She was so incredibly feminine, soft in all the right places, always dressed to the nines. She had a huge heart and an even larger mouth, and she had no problem hurling profanities in English and in Italian.
There wasn't a boring moment with her around.
She was incredible.
"It's not that kind of transition. You're becoming immortal."
The words hung in the air between them.
