Page 17 of Wicked Things
SLOANE
“You are one lucky woman. There’s no other way of putting it. Yahweh’s obviously been looking down on you. If you’d been stuck in that elevator shaft any longer, your severed finger wouldn’t have been viable for reattachment. The skin that was ripped from your hand would also have been starved of oxygen for too long, the nerve endings crippled, and there would have been no way we could have performed this surgery. As it stands, we’ve been able to reattach your finger as well as the skin. We’ve had to insert a metal scaffolding to keep your fractured bones in place while they heal, so you’re going to have to deal with that for at least the next six to eight weeks, depending on how well you heal, but things are looking good. We won’t be able to tell exactly how much nerve damage you’ve suffered, there will be some loss of feeling and mobility unfortunately, but this isliterallya miracle, Pippa. Your hand will function again. It’s never going to be pretty, you’re going to have some scarring. Your finger may never extend fully again, but…damn. We’re taking this as a win.”
I’ve never particularly liked Dr. Gaffin. He’s a womanizer and a pretty boy. Clearly loves himself too much. Watching him churn through the nursing staff is enough to make me want to kick him in his family jewels most of the time, but right now I could kiss him. I watch Pippa’s face as he tells her how the surgery went, and I’m on the brink of tears. She looks so goddamn relieved. She just keeps nodding and nodding, biting on the thumb nail of her uninjured hand, and when she eventually tries to speak, thanking Dr. Gaffin for his hours and hours of hard work, her voice is as fractured and broken as her hand was before he worked his magic.
I watched him perform the surgery from the gallery, and I have to say I was impressed. His work was meticulous and pain staking; he spent most of the day working over her, his face less than three inches away from her open hand as he reconnected nerve endings and so carefully tacked and pinned her skin back into place. A lesser doctor would have done half the job he did and called it good, but he’s clearly a perfectionist. I’ll never tell him, but I admire his skill even if I do think he’s a pig outside of the OR.
He leaves, giving me a smug, faintly lecherous wink as he goes, and I sit on the edge of Pippa’s bed, grinning at her. “So maybe Chopin’s out of the question,” I say. “But perhaps you’ll still be able to play Chopsticks when all’s said and done.”
“I’ll take it.” She stretches, her eyelids half closed. She’s just woken up from the surgery and she’s on some pretty heavy-duty pain meds, so it’ll be a long time before she’s fully compos mentis, but it’s good to see my friend smiling again. It’s a massive relief, in fact.
“I believe you have some news for me,” she says sleepily.
I take her good hand, frowning. “I do?”
She raises her eyebrows, looking down at my stomach. “For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never seen your belly poking out through your scrubs before, Romera. The honeymoon phase is a real thing people go through when they’re happy and in love, but I doubt you’ve just suddenly gained a beer belly overnight, have you?”
I pull a rueful face, sighing. She’s way more observant than I’ve given her credit for. I assumed with everything going on she wouldn’t notice my baby bump, but the thing is growing daily it appears, and Pip has sharp eyes. I fold my hands over my stomach, still not really used to the concept that there is a life growing inside me yet. It’s hard to forget, what with the way my body is changing constantly, and how often I throw up, but I still the idea of it is…weird. “I was going to tell you,” I say. “I was going to, but…”
“But I’ve been a nightmare to deal with, and you were worried how I would react to the news that you were chaining yourself to a man I don’t approve of for the next eighteen years?”
“Well. Yeah.”
She smiles softly. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect and think on this. I’m going to be in your corner, no matter what. And come on… the two of your have stood at hell’s gates together on more than one occasion, and Zeth has thrown himself on the fire time and time again to protect you. It may have taken me some time, but I can see how dedicated he is to you. I’m not going to stand in the way of that. Not anymore.”
“I, for one, am glad to hear that,” a deep male voice says. Pippa and I both turn and look at the same time, and Michael’s standing in the doorway, fiddling with the his cufflink. He looks like a GQ model, posing effortlessly for a shoot, entirely out of place under the hospital’s grim strip lighting. Pippa shifts in her bed, trying to sit up, but I growl at her.
“Don’t even think about it, Newan. If you undo any of Dr. Gaffin’s work by fidgeting, I’m gonna be pissed, and so is he.”
“Okay if I come in?” Michael asks.
I look at Pippa. For a startling second, I can’t remember if she’s ever met him before, but then I remember the fiasco that went down here at the hospital, when Agent Lowell showed up here and all hell broke loose. She’s met him all right. I just have no idea if she’s going to be okay with seeing him again now.
She shrugs one shoulder. “Sure. So long as you don’t plan on shooting anyone while you’re here.”
“I’ll endeavor to do my best.” From Michael, that’s a fairly non-committal response. He’s smiling broadly as he enters the room, though. “You haven’t been home in nearly twenty-four hours,” he says, rebuking me. “I don’t wanna have to tell tales on you, girl. You’d better be heading home soon, otherwise your boyfriend’s going to string me up.”
“Come on. Let her hang out with me a little longer. He’ll never know,” Pippa says, smirking.
“Oh, he’ll know,” Michael says.
I nod, sighing. “Yep. Zeth always knows.”
Pippa groans. “All right. I suppose I’ve kept you here long enough. And you do need to make sure you’re resting properly now. I suppose I’ll forgive you if you need to go home.”
It’s funny how so many people are making decisions about what’s best for me these days. I am tired, though. Exhausted would be a better way of describing my current physical state. I get up, trying not to give away just how exhausted I am as I stretch. “Okay, okay, I’ll head down and get my purse.” I’m halfway between the bed and the door when a nurse appears, her cheeks red, her brow marked with perspiration.
“Elevators are out. Internal phone lines appear to be down as well. Dr. Patel’s been looking for you for a consult, Dr. Romera. Can you spare five minutes?”
I look to Michael.
He shakes his head, a wan smile pulling at his mouth. “Five minutes. Don’t make me come looking for you,” he says. He sits down on the chair beside Pippa’s bed, making a shooing motion with his hand. I’d have thought he’d have come with me and waited out front in the car, but whatever. Pippa doesn’t look even remotely fazed at her new visitor. She grins at me sleepily.
“A baby, Sloane.” She beams. “You’re having ababy.”
******
The nurse waits for me to catch up with her. She stands by the entrance to the stairwell, breathing hard, like she really has been running all over the hospital looking for me. To the right, I see the elevator doors roll open and Dr. Patel emerges, talking to one of his first year residents.
