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Though we had a pretty clear picture ofwhather actions would be.
“You were trying to do the right thing.”
“A lot of good that’s gotten us.” I was stuck in a hospital bed, as helpless as ever.
JoJo was stressed to the max, not to mention struggling with her own ailments.
And Penelope was only breathing because of a machine.
The right thing could shove it.
“I’m tired of being scared,” she admitted.
That made two of us.
The constant worry was taking its toll on both of us. Would it ever go away?
I hoped the feeling at least turned down to a simmer at some point.
The doctor came in, chart in hand. “Do you feel like making a move, Mr. Zegas?”
“If it’s to be near my daughter, yes.”
“We’ve coordinated with Savannah House to facilitate a transfer. I’m pleased with your progress.” He glanced at JoJo. “And your wife is quite convincing.”
Wife.
I’d come to loathe the term. It felt like a stranglehold.
At least it used to.
When the word referred to someone else—to JoJo—it wasn’t so bad.
Had she told the doctor she was my wife? Or had he assumed?
She didn’t correct him. And that was fine by me.
She touched my arm. “Do you hear that? You’re getting out of here.”
“On the strict condition you remain under a physician’s care for at least another week.”
“A week?” I asked incredulously.
“If you don’t agree, I’ll keep you here.” He didn’t look up from his chart. His tone said he’d do exactly that.
“Whatever you say, Doc.”
JoJo lifted a skeptical brow at my easy acquiescence.
I could be nice when I wanted something. And once I was at the other facility, I could do what I wanted. I was already paying them enough to support a small country. Might as well be king.
“I’ll make sure he’s a model patient,” she said.
It was my turn to lift a brow. How did she plan on doing that?
The doctor took off his glasses. “If you don’t let your body properly heal, Mr. Zegas, you will be in pain for the rest of your life.”
No way could I tolerate feeling like this for another week much less what life I had remaining.
