Page 522 of Manhattan Bossholes

“What about the restraining order you threatened? That could go both ways, you know.”

“Restraining order?” Amanda’s face twisted up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Your fiancé told me about it,” I sneered.

“Oh, ignore him. He has a flair for the dramatic,” she said brusquely. “What’s happening now is between me and Christopher. Not Tim, and especially not you.”

I was gritting my teeth, probably to keep from hurling a string of insults at her. Damn it, she was right. And I realized that despite everything he’d been through, Christopher probably did want to see her.

I wordlessly stepped to the side so she could pass.

Amanda paused as she put her hand on the doorknob. “I know you think that what happened is my fault, but I’m allowed to move on with my life. And he should too.”

I crossed my arms, unwilling to admit aloud that I knew she was right. My allegiance to my brother was too strong for me to make nice with the woman who’d broken him.

“Don’t talk about the baby,” I warned her. “Because you know he wanted that more than anything, Amanda. He begged you to start a family, and you said you never wanted to have children, ever. And now you’ve decided to do just that with someone else.”

The comment hit my mark. Amanda winced for a moment before she could get her expression under control. Then she stepped into Christopher’s room.

Part of me wanted to press my ear to the door and listen to what was going on inside the room. I couldn’t imagine what Amanda might want to say to him, or how he’d react. I felt relieved that he was in a safe place, and that the various alarms attached to him would alert the nurses if something went south.

I cursed the fact that I even had the thought.

Waiting outside the door made me feel like a bouncer, so I decided to head down to the coffee stand in the lobby. My phone never stopped buzzing with work-related alerts and messages but, I was in no mind to try to put out fires at Branson. My sole focus right now had to be on my family. I pulled the cursed thing from my pocket to turn it off and fumbled with it, realizing that I had no clue how to do so. My phone was never off. I was so focused on clearing the notifications off my screen that I didn’t realize that I was taking up half the hallway.

“Excuse me,” a brusque voice rang out.

I looked up with an apology on my lips only to discover the last person I expected to see staring at me.

“Natalie…”

“Bernie told me to come,” she explained, her face stony. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

My heart reacted viscerally, beating wildly at the sight of her. She looked beautiful and sad and angry, and all I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms. My body ached to connect with her, to find comfort in her touch, because absolutely everything in my world felt broken. But then I remembered that I couldn’t give her what she needed. And that meant that keeping my distance was better for both of us.

“Christopher will appreciate it, I’m sure,” I finally managed.

Her eyes looked red ringed, and her skin was pale and blotchy. She was still unbelievably beautiful, but broken in her own way.

We stared at one another in silence for too long.

“His room is that way?” she finally asked, pointing beyond me.

I felt like I was underwater, with all of my reactions slowed. “Yes, but you can’t go in.”

She frowned at me. “Excuse me? Why not?”

I recognized the edge in her voice, and it immediately brought me back to our first meeting. Firey, headstrong Natalie, the woman who never backed down from me was always ready for war.

Just this once, I was too weary to engage.

I sighed. “Amanda is with him. She showed up and demanded to see him.”

Natalie’s expression shifted to concern. “Is that…is that a good idea? Isn’t she at least half the reason why he’s here?”

I nodded. “Yes, but maybe this will bring him some closure.”

“I’d like a few minutes alone with her. I’ll give her closure she won’t soon forget,” Natalie muttered.