“Because,” I cut in before Chantel got the chance, “sometimes it’s easier to be disappointed and move on than to hold out hope that things can be better. He doesn’t love me. He never did. And no amount of rehab was going to change that.”
“Oui.” Chantel gave me a sad, watery smile. “And I knew you would have waited for him, even though you deserved so much better.”
I held her gaze, searching for the truth in her flooded eyes. “I forgive you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. But I’m still really fucking mad at you. You’ve been a complete bitch.”
“I’m always a bitch.” She wiped her cheeks.
“True. But you usually reserve it for other people. It hurt having it aimed at me.”
Her composure cracked again, more tears escaping. “I promise I’ll do better.”
“Dr. Cotê?” Sean’s doctor appeared in the hallway. “I’d like to update you on Mr. Brennan’s condition.”
“It’s fine, Ed.” She waved him closer. “This is my family. Speak freely.”
“As we suspected, he’s got a mild concussion. But he’s not nearly as bad as we’d feared. He’s responding well to the medications, and we’ve been cautious, given his history. All in all, he’s doing remarkably well.” He shrugged with a reassuring smile.
Relief swept through me. I was angry. I was hurt. But I’d never wished harm on Sean.
Doctor Ed nudged Chantel’s arm. “I think your husband was right. Mr. Brennan seems to have a horseshoe lodged somewhere anatomically improbable.”
My mouth dropped open.
Husband?
“Please don’t let him hear you say that.” Chantel was still mopping tears but smiling now. “If there’s anything my husband loves, it’s being right.”
Husband?
“Oh, I don’t know,” Doctor Ed chuckled. “I think he’s quite in love with you, too. You can see Mr. Brennan now but keep it brief and low-key. Standard protocol for head trauma. But I’m telling you things you already know.”
“Thanks, Ed.”
He left, and Chantel turned back to us with a bright grin. “Are we doing this?”
“Is now really the best time?” I glanced toward Sean’s room.
“Really?” Caleb said. “We’re going to pretend that didn’t just happen?”
Chantel’s smile shifted to something considerably less innocent.
“I’m willing to let it go,” I said, cutting them off before war broke out. “For now. I assume you plan to tell us the full story at some point. Preferably over a very large amount of ice cream.”
When she didn’t answer, I propped my hands on my hips. “Unless you’d rather I go ask your husband about it. I’m guessing I’ll find him in the waiting room.”
“It’s a really long story,” she sighed.
“Lucky for you, we’ve got time,” Caleb said. “Zadie’s not due until May.”
“Shut it, Cal.”
“Enough.” I stepped between them. “Let’s go see Sean before it’s too late. Please.”
“Absolutely.” Caleb took my hand. “Chantel?”
