Page 72 of Consume Me

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He hadn’t been here for the brief explanation of what had happened, but he wasn’t one to pry. “How are you?”

“You really want to know?” His mouth quirked into a frown. “Your sister is driving me nuts!”

I bit back a laugh and tried to look sympathetic.

“She’s thrown out half my clothes, insists on taking me to fancy dinners to practice my etiquette”—he wiggled his pinky with a glare that could freeze hell—“and she keeps talking about a plant-based diet. I don’t mind some veg with my rashers, but I’m not about to become a bloody vegan.”

Lola had clearly gotten under his skin, and while I felt slightly guilty for finding it funny, I hadn’t felt this light in days. I let him continue his rant, pleased to see the world through his eyes for a few minutes.

When Alexander reappeared with my family in tow, he announced that visiting hours were over. “Clara needs to feed the baby and well, obviously…”

I had no idea what magic he’d worked on my mother, but she nodded reverently. Dashing over, she gave me a quick hug.

“We’ll visit tomorrow,” she promised.

I tried to hide my cringe. Lola and dad shook their heads behind my back. They’d keep her at bay now that they knew the seriousness of the situation. After all the hugs, I got up, tightening my robe around me as I slid my feet into a pair of hospital shoes for the long walk to the NICU. The weight that had lifted listening to Anders’s rant began to descend again.

Alexander held out his hand and I instantly felt lighter. There was nothing we couldn’t face together. We were alive and safe and we would see this through.

In the hall, Georgia glanced up from a Star magazine, a smug look on her face. “You already made the papers.” She waved it at me. “They said you’re still here getting a tummy tuck and boob job.”

Out of all the people who’d saved me yesterday, she was doing the best job of acting normally. Sometimes I even wondered if it was an act. But something else had shifted between us.

She was friendly but distant. The closeness I’d began to feel to her was absent.

“They’re going to be disappointed,” I said dryly. I glanced at Alexander. “Give me a minute.”

He nodded, taking a few steps down the hall.

“Can we talk?” I asked her.

She shrugged and tossed the magazine on a table.

“Shoot.” The second the word left her mouth, her casual veneer cracked. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible choice of words.”

“You said yourself that you’re not very good at this friend thing,” I reminded her. “Look, I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Thanks?” she repeated. “Clara, none of this would have happened if I’d stayed with you like I was supposed to.”

“You were angry.” And she’d had a right to be. But she was also putting too much pressure on herself. “They got through Norris. I mean…”

“Are you saying they could have got through me?” Her lips formed a perfect pout. “Now you’re the shitty friend.”

“I’m just glad nothing happened to you,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to press my luck further. She would blame herself and hide it beneath her tough exterior. I was beginning to understand Georgia Kincaid, even if I felt like I barely knew her.

She blinked, her eyes finding the ground, and then she stood. “Same.”

It was an awkward hug, but it was a start.

“Go see your kid,” she said, swiping at her eyes as she turned away.

Alexander was waiting near the end of the hall and to my surprise, we turned in the direction opposite the neonatal unit. “The room is set up,” he explained as we approached a private hospital suite.

We hadn’t bothered to move from the delivery room yesterday, knowing it would just mean another move eventually. That had left us with a less than comfortable situation, but neither of us complained. The recovery room was much better, especially because a tiny private NICU had been set up in one half of the room.

Norris sat beside the incubator, both hands on his lap, and his eyes on our son. As soon as he saw me, he stood so I could take the chair.

“I’ll give you privacy.”