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“You’ve no right to speak to anyone the way you just did, Mary Margaret.”
“I’ve every right,” she counters. “She met my husband before and didn’t have the decency to say so right away. Why would she hide that?”
“Oh, for feck’s sake, Mags,” Keegan says, scowling. “She explained exactly what she remembers—and doesn’t remember for that matter.”
“What, exactly, are you accusing her of?” I demand. “Do you think she and Joey had a fucking quickie right there in her shop?”
The very idea of it has my blood boiling.
“We don’t know what they did,” Maggie says, raising her chin. “After everything I’ve found out about him, anything’s possible.”
“You’ll stop this insanity right now.”
She frowns and looks down, then swallows hard.
“I can’t believe the way you just behaved. Frankly, if I were in Anastasia’s shoes, I wouldn’t want any part of you either. Do you remember every customer you served a drink to four years ago?”
“Of course, not.”
“I understand that you’re grieving, and you’re hurt. Every single thing that piece of shit did to you is not okay, and you don’t have the luxury of taking it out on him because the fecker died. But Anastasia doesn’t deserve the blame for that. She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t even know us when she made those cakes, and she certainly didn’t know she was making something for a married man’s mistress.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “If you simply don’t like her, and you’d rather I not marry her, you shouldn’t have lied to me the other day when you said it was all okay with you.”
“I didn’t lie,” Maggie whispers and sags into a chair in defeat. She looks exhausted, like all of the fight has gone right out of her. She’s blinking, as if the person who just threw that tantrum is someone she doesn’t know. “And you’re right. She didn’t deserve that. I just saw the receipts, that she signed them, and that damn note, and I was so mad. At him, for buying something thoughtful for someone else. And at her for not telling me that he’d been her customer.”
“She didn’t know,” I say. “And now you’ve managed to not only offend her, but also insinuate that I’ve given up something very important because of her.”
“I’ve screwed it all up.”
“That’s an understatement,” Keegan says.
“I’ll go find her and apologize,” Maggie says, jumping out of the chair. “I’ll go now.”
My phone rings, and I immediately hope it’s Anastasia, but Amelia’s name is on my screen.
“Hello?”
“Kane, why is my sister alone on the side of the road having an asthma attack?”
“What?” I gesture for Keegan to give me the keys to his car. “Where the feck is she?”
“I’m not sure. She had to pull over because she was having an asthma attack and didn’t have her inhaler. She called an ambulance, but—”
I hang up before she can continue and drive faster than I ever have toward the freeway. The only place Anastasia would have been headed is home. She can’t be far.
I merge onto the freeway and make it only a few miles before I see her car and an ambulance behind it. She’s just being loaded into the van when I come to a screeching halt behind them and jump out of the car, running toward them.
“Stop!” I run to them, my blood rushing through my ears. My God, I’ve never been so bloody scared in all my life.
Anastasia reaches for me, and I take her hand, then kiss it.
“We’re taking her to Seattle General,” the EMT says. “You can meet us there. We need to have her checked out.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” I say, looking directly into Anastasia’s scared blue eyes. “I promise.”
She nods, and the doors are closed. I hurry back to the car and call Keegan’s number as I follow behind the ambulance.
“What’s going on?” he says immediately.
“They’re taking her to Seattle General,” I inform him. “She’s awake, so that’s a good sign.”
“We’ll meet you there.”
He hangs up, and I toss my phone into the passenger seat as I drive behind the ambulance, keeping up with their speed all the way into the city. I park and run to the emergency entrance, but I’m blocked from going inside with Anastasia.
“You have to go through by the front desk,” a nurse calls out, pointing to my left. “Once we get her settled, they’ll send you back to her room.”
They don’t give me a chance to respond. Left with no choice, I walk out to the waiting area and check in with the nurse.
“Please let me know as soon as I can go back with her. Her name is Anastasia Montgomery.”
She doesn’t even look up from her computer as she mutters, “Sure thing.”
I’m frustrated and worried out of my mind as I pace the waiting area. I push my fingers through my hair and answer when my phone rings again.
