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“This wasn’t your fault. This was Chad’s fault. He was always going to get to me. It was just a matter of time before something like this happened. I tried to explain this to Catherine earlier. There is no escaping him. If he wants to get to me, he will. And he has.”
I swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in my throat. “But it shouldn’t be happening to you. You don’t deserve this.”
She gave a little shrug before continuing. “Well, no one does. But like I said, this is Chad.”
“Jackson is at your place right now, with some people from Cole Securities. Ally says they’re going to handle this. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to get to you anymore. Someone much more qualified than me is going to be taking charge of this.” I said the words to lighten the mood, but Mia’s face fell.
“It’s fine. This is not your fault. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t either.” Her brown eyes searched me, and a small smile crept onto her face. “Come here.”
She motioned for me to come closer to her. I leaned in and her perfect lips met mine in a gentle kiss.
“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. It’s just a bump on the ankle.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than that,” a voice said, interrupting us. I looked over and saw Dr. Weston. “The x-rays showed you have a broken fibula. Right now, we’re going to take you to get it set and cast. You’ll be given some crutches to help you walk. And we’ll want to see you back in my office so I can check on you and determine if further medical intervention is required.”
“You mean surgery,” Mia stammered.
“Yeah, I do,” Dr. Weston replied. She looked apologetic. She could tell this news was killing Mia, as could I.
I reached out and squeezed Mia’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting fit for a cast. You’re not the one who can’t wear the very heels you design.”
“There will be no heels for a few months,” Dr. Weston confirmed. She then turned to me. “We’re going to send her home with some Valium to help her rest. I’ll also be sending some pain medication. See that that she stays on top of it, please.”
“Will do,” I promised, looking back at Mia, hoping she was planning on listening and behaving. We needed her to be a good patient. Something that, if memory served me right, she wasn’t.
