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Hmm. She wasn’t so sure about that.
“Good morning, Ian. Maggie. How are you today?”
“I’m not doing the MRI scan,” she blurted out. “No one can make me. Ian promised.”
Ian sighed behind her.
“Why don’t we talk for a moment? Come with me.” Jameson led them into a consultation room.
Jameson grabbed a chair and turned it to face her. She picked at a thread in her horrible hospital gown.
“Maggie, can you look at me, please.”
Even though he said please and worded it like a question, it definitely was not.
“I don’t want you to do that Dom voodoo on me,” she muttered.
“Dom voodoo?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Yeah, where you make me look at you, and suddenly, I’m agreeing to do something I don’t want to do.”
“Please, Shortcake.”
She let out a deep breath and looked up into his kind eyes. Shoot.
“Still not doing it.”
“All right. Can you tell me why?” Jameson asked.
“There’s no point. Besides, my insurance might not cover it.”
“And if I said there is no charge because you’re here as a guest of the royal family and that the point is to rule out any damage to your hip . . . what would you say?”
“I’d tell you that it isn’t attractive to have an answer to everything.”
He just gave her a lighter version of the ‘the look.’
“Why don’t you want the MRI? And I want the truth this time.” Firm. Unyielding.
Monkeyballs.
That tone of voice made her want to confess everything. So that’s what she did.
“When my sister turned twelve, I licked some of the icing off her cake and smoothed it back over. And when my brother was kissing his date in the living room when he was supposed to be looking after me, I set off the smoke alarm.”
And was no one going to stop her talking?
“That’s all very interesting, sweetheart.” Jameson patted her hand. Was he fighting a smile? “But still not what we’re talking about. Why are you scared of the MRI?”
“I don’t like small spaces. Well, small spaces where I feel trapped. Especially if they move. I don’t like lifts. And MRI scanners are worse. I have to stay still and I’m trapped and it’s cold and I just won’t.” Her breath stuttered in and out of her lungs.
This is ridiculous, Maggie.
It’s just a freaking machine. It can’t hurt you.
After everything she’d been through . . . the pain, the recovery, you’d think this would be nothing.
“Jameson,” Ian growled, moving toward her. “We’re leaving.”
