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“I’m fine.” He groans, slowly trying to push himself up. “Why weren’t you looking where you were going?”
“Why did you jump in front of the buggy?” I hit back.
“I was trying to get your attention.” He stands and dusts the dirt from his shirt.
Stupid man. Who runs out in front of a moving vehicle? I could have killed him.
“Dad.” Sam hugs him.
“It was an accident, Dad,” Willow mutters. “Brielle didn’t mean it.” Her nervous gaze flashes to me. “Did you?”
I shake my head. “No, no, I didn’t. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I ask. I cannot believe I actually ran him over. “We need to take you to the hospital.”
"I'm not hurt." He steps out and winces when his foot tries to take his weight for the first time.
My eyes widen. “You are hurt. Where did I hit you?”
“You just ran over my foot, but it’s fine.” He seems embarrassed, or perhaps just furious. Who can tell with this man?
A golf cart approaches us with two men riding in it. As they get closer I can see that they’re all splitting their sides laughing. The cart comes to a slow halt beside us. “Masters, funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I wish I’d filmed it.” One man laughs as he holds his stomach.
Mr. Masters looks at his friends. “Hilarious,” he mutters dryly. He tries to walk again and winces as his foot takes his weight.
I grab his arm to support him. “Please stay off it until we see a doctor.”
“I’m going to go home with these guys.” He digs around his pockets and hands one of his friends his set of keys. “Can somebody bring my car home, please?”
I glance up at the children who are both deathly silent. They watch on in shock.
Great, this is just great. We were having such a fun day, too. Honestly, I have never had so many things go wrong for me in one week in my entire life.
London is trying to bring me undone. Day by day my mistakes are getting bigger and bigger.
Mr. Masters waves his friends off and turns back to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Let’s get you to a doctor.” I sigh.
He nods, and Willow takes one arm, helping him as he limps back to the car. I return the buggy and climb into the driver seat. I glance over to see him sitting in the passenger seat, glaring out the front window.
I grip the steering wheel and drop my head. “I’m so sorry,” I say again.
Regret swirls around in me. Sorry seems to be the only word that I ever say to him. That’s it now. I know that’s it. And I’m okay with it being over. Some things just aren’t meant to be.
“You didn’t mean it,” Willow interrupts from the back seat. “It was an accident, Dad.”
Mr. Master’s jaw clenches as he looks out through the front windscreen. His anger is palpable.
“Tell Brielle you know it’s not her fault,” Willow demands.
“I said it was fine,” Mr. Masters growls. “I would like to go home now.”
The car falls silent and I start the car. I pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Can we go to the hospital and get some x-rays, please?”
“It’s not broken,” he says flatly.
“Fine.” I sigh. I turn onto the road that takes us home. “Have it your way.”
It’s 9:00 p.m. and I am washing the last of the dishes. Due to the fact that Mr. Masters is laid up on the lounge with an icepack on his foot, I cooked Italian for dinner, and I know I surprised everyone with my culinary skills. One thing I can do well is cook. They all devoured every last mouthful, and the kids even asked Mr. Masters if I can be the new cook from now on.
