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Silently, Dylan hung up the phone.
"Go ahead, Mr. Hager," Jeannie replied. "We're listening.
CHAPTER 31
5:35 P.M.
Mt. Sinai Hospital
If looks could kill, Sabrina and Dylan would both be dead.
Carson glared at them, pushing himself higher up in the bed. "What do you mean you didn't pick out your r
ings? You both look fine. Much better, in fact. And Marie said you were both at work the whole day. So what gives? What happened to the Fifth Avenue marriage proposal?"
Dylan provided the answer they'd rehearsed, which was the truth, sans the part relating to Susan. With events unraveling so quickly—and so unpleasantly—the last thing they wanted to do was sandwich a joyous and memorable occasion like getting engaged between Stan's confession and Frank and Jeannie's YouthOp investigation.
Especially with Susan smack in the middle of it.
"It was a rough day, Carson," Dylan explained, smooth as silk. "Whitman and Barton were with us at noon which, if you recall, was when we'd planned to go to Tiffany's. That's when Stan walked in. He had a tough hurdle to leap, and we wanted to be there to support him. Plus, Sabrina's nose and throat were still burning her, and my head was aching. A marriage proposal isn't something you bulldoze your way through, like a rough business meeting. It's a once-in-a-lifetime event. So we decided to wait. Tiffany's is opened until seven P.M. every weeknight. For us to go tonight would be pushing it. It's already close to six o'clock. We want time to browse, to pick out just the right rings. So we have a date for tomorrow night. We'll leave work early, which will give us plenty of time for shopping. Then, I'm taking Sabrina to Central Park for a sunset proposal."
"What's wrong with tomorrow morning? You can propose in the sunlight, too."
Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Gee. Aren't you the romantic?"
"No. I'm a get-it-done guy. So's Dylan. You and I both know he can't wait to slip that ring on your finger. So what's really going on? Why can't you be at the doors of Tiffany's at ten A.M. to open the store?"
Another sore subject that seemed impossible to avoid.
Fine. If avoidance was out, then shoot-from-the-hip was the next best alternative.
"Because I've got an appointment with the nephrologist tomorrow morning at ten, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember," Carson grumbled. "I was hoping you'd forget."
"Not a chance. Anyway, Dylan's going with me. And so, I'm sure, is Bernard," Sabrina added dryly, referring to the linebacker of a bodyguard who'd been appended to her since mid-afternoon. "By the way, is it okay if he hangs out in the waiting room during my physical exam? He's a great guy and all, other than the fact that he never cracks a smile, but I'm not quite ready to do a strip show for him."
"Very funny. He's not paid to smile. He's paid to keep you safe. And, yeah, he'll wait outside while you get checked out."
"Good. So much for that. And don't worry about the proposal. By tomorrow night, Dylan's knee will be sore and grass-stained, and there'll be a glistening diamond on my left hand, which we promise to come by and show you. Okay?"
Carson's glare softened, and he appeared slightly mollified. "Yeah, I guess I see your point. Getting engaged is a big deal. Fine, okay, it can wait a day. But come by here afterward, no matter how late it is. I can't wait to see you gushing over your ring."
"If that's what this is all about, then you've got a much longer wait than you think," Sabrina retorted. "I don't gush."
Carson's lips twitched. "I guess not. Okay, I'll settle for a rosy glow." He settled himself against the pillows. "Did you at least get Dylan moved into your place?"
"No. Dylan got himself moved into my place."
A snort. "Damn, you're difficult. Semantics are bullshit. But, fine, Dylan moved himself. The important thing is, he's living with you, right?"
It was Sabrina's turn to stifle a grin. "Yes, Carson. He's living with me. But if you don't stop meddling, I'm going to relegate him to the guest room."
"Shut up, Carson," Dylan ordered.
"Gotcha." A chuckle. "All I care about is that you two are on your way. I'll stop sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."
"That'll be a first. Sabrina and I are lucky you haven't ordered Bernard to post himself in the master bedroom and keep a running count of how many times we..."
