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“Yeah, that was a bit much. On the bright side, it was a really ugly chair.”
He laughs, and so does Kian. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Finally, there’s a knock on the door, and as Kian goes to answer it, I slide a hand over Garrett’s hair, smoothing it back so I can see his face. His beautiful, heartbreaking face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Fuck that. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m pretty sure the George V is going to have a different opinion about that.” He pushes into a sitting position, but makes sure to pull me up with him as he does.
“Yeah, well, you aren’t the first rich guy to trash one of their rooms and I’m pretty sure you won’t be the last. Just think of it as a badge of honor.”
“I’m a prince, not a rock star. We don’t get badges of honor for destroying things.”
“Sure you do. Otherwise war wouldn’t exist.”
I want a better look at his hand, so I start to scoot back a little. He holds me firmly in place, keeping me pressed up against his side as he surveys the destroyed room. “This wasn’t war.”
I’m not so sure about that. God knows, Garrett was battling something when he did this. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I nod toward the man gingerly making his way across the room toward us.
“Hello, Your Highness. My name is Craig Deveraux and I’m an internist the hotel has on call. Do you mind if I take a look at your hand?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to look at more than my hand,” Garrett tells him wryly. “But, yeah. Feel free.”
I push myself to my feet, then brace a hand under his elbow and try to help him up as well. But he just rolls his eyes at me as he climbs lithely to his feet. “Where do you want me?” he asks the doctor.
“Probably your bedroom, if that works for you. I’m going to need a flat surface to lay out the stitching materials.” Craig doesn’t say what everyone is thinking—that Garrett made sure every flat surface in the living room was turned upside down. Instead, he just waits patiently as Garrett decides if the bedroom is a viable option.
It must be, because he leads the way over to it. I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind them.
Kian whirls on me as soon as it does. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“Did he hurt me?” I look at him like he’s insane. “Did we just see the same thing?”
“I don’t know.” He’s ashen as he crosses to the suite’s outside door. “The only thing I understand from what I just saw is that my brother isn’t doing nearly as well as I thought he was. Then again, he has been drinking since you left.” The last is said accusatorily.
“I’m sorry. I fucked up.”
He nods. “Yeah, well. Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
He sighs wearily, but he nods. Then, after wiping a hand over his hair and down his neck, he walks to the suite’s main door.
I can hear him murmuring softly to the security guards. I think about getting closer, listening in, but decide it doesn’t matter. What happens next is going to be up to Garrett and his therapist, not Kian. I plan on making sure of it.
Crossing to the kitchen area, I pull a garbage bag from the collection of cleaning supplies under the sink. Then I get to work cleaning up the mess Garrett’s episode left. Much of it has to be done by the hotel staff themselves, but I can pick up the detritus of broken liquor bottles and chairs.
“Someone’s coming to take care of that,” Kian tells me after he finishes whatever he was doing in the hall. Savvy, who just got here, rolls her eyes as she, too, starts to pitch in. The look she shoots me seems to say, “freaking royals, man.”
Kian watches us for a minute, then throws his hands up in exasperation and starts to help too. We make a lot of progress turning furniture back to rights and cleaning up broken glass in the five minutes before hotel employees reach the room. There’s another small conference between Kian and the manager, and then we’re being ushered out of the suite and down the hall to Kian and Savvy’s room.
“They’ll take care of it,” Kian tells me as he forcibly takes the garbage bag from my hands. It’s harder to let it go than it should be, but I think that’s mostly to do with the fact that cleaning keeps me busy while I wait to hear what’s going on with Garrett. Without it, I’ve got nothing to focus on but him, nothing to do but worry about whether or not he’s doing okay.
Kian and Savvy steer me toward their suite. It makes me nervous being this far from Garrett, at least until Kian instructs Bryce and Samuel, both of whom are standing in the hallway with blank faces and worried eyes, to come get us the moment the doctor is through with Garrett—or before, if he needs us.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Kian says as he ushers me inside. “I don’t know what got into Garrett—”
