“And how many others have signed up?”
My happiness sinks into a glum frown.
“Vanessa?” she presses.
I try a tactful response. “You only just asked me to get others to sign-up. It’ll take some time.”
Mom’s disappointment comes through the phone screen clearly. “You should’ve made it a priority as soon as you first approached the hospital.”
I bite my tongue. How on earth do I explain to my mother I’m not volunteering as a PR stunt to further the Ashworth family brand? It’s a non-self-serving exercise.
“Vanessa, you’ll get a list of volunteers at tonight’s meeting. Won’t you.”
My back stiffens at her tone. It was a statement, not a question.
I clear my throat and nod. “Yes, Mother.”
She smiles. “Okay, I’ll let you get ready for your shift. Talk soon.”
“Yes,” I reply as the call abruptly ends.
I lower the phone and sigh. “Love you too, Mom.”
I swipe my thumb across my phone and spot the notifications blowing up from my group chat with the girls. I open up the app to a bombardment of unread text messages.
“Seriously! Tell us what happened last night.”
“Ness, you left with LJ and then vanished. What is up?”
“Are you mad at LJ?”
“OMG. Are you mad at us?!?”
How am I supposed to respond?Hey girls, I’m sick of predicting what everyone will say and do, so I jumped on the back of the first motorcycle I could find.
Somehow, I don’t think that will fly.
Roger slows the sedan to a stop in front of St. Mark’s Hospital. As he walks around to open my passenger door, the perfect way to end the incessant texts comes to mind.
I reply with,“How about you all join me for a volunteer shift at the hospital?”
The texts run cold, with feeble excuses of other plans they have for the day. If I had suggested a day at the spa for facials and manicures, I’m sure it’d be a different story.
Do I know my friends, or what?
Before I leave Roger, I tell him I won’t be needing him for the rest of the day.
“Are you sure, miss?”
I give him a bright smile. “Yes. Have a wonderful day off.”
Roger smiles and nods. “Thank you, Miss Ashworth.”
I wave him off and make my way into the hospital. My brown leather ankle boots have a small heel, which clip-clop on my way in. The primary objective today is seeing Dax. This led to choosing pants over a skirt, in hopes of getting back on his motorcycle. My pants and shirt are navy, which I layered with my brown tweed blazer. My arms got so cold last night as the wind whipped pastwhile we rode. This outfit is still chic enough to maintain my image without arousing suspicion.
“Oh, Vanessa,” Nurse Trisha says, standing near the front desk. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I smile and wave on my approach. “I have some plans for later in the day and didn’t want to leave you in the lurch. Thought I’d clock in my volunteer hours now.”
