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Andre leans close to me, his hand coming back to clasp around my neck in that expert way that I’m beginning to realize isn’t as much of a threat as I initially thought it was. “I’m not waiting until Thursday to have you to myself, Paisley.”
I’m not really sure what to say to that, so I settle on, “Okay.”
Andre’s eyes drop down to my mouth and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me.
It would be all show, of course.
I’m sure the only reason I’m here is because I’m convenient, and the second that I’m not useful to him anymore Andre will drop me without a second thought.
And that’s fine.
As long as I get what I need from him before that happens.
But Andre doesn’t kiss me. He leans in, voice low enough that his driver won’t hear. “Go get your rest, Duchess. You will need it.”
* * *
I GRIPTHE cashier’s check from the bank tight in my hand as I look around the hospital waiting room. There’s a handful of other people filling the rows of chairs outside the offices Dr. Marshall uses, and he’s almost always running behind, so I try to settle in for the long wait I’m used to. When I brought my mother here for the examination process to be considered for the trial, we were usually here for most of the day.
At least until they decided she was too sick to be a part of the treatment she desperately needs, sending us home with no options.
No hope.
Thank God Dr. Marshall was willing to give us a chance. Without his kindness—
“Paisley?”
I jump at my name. I didn’t expect to be called back so quickly, especially considering I don’t technically have an appointment.
I practically leap from my seat and rush to the door a nurse is holding open. She eyes me, an odd look on her face. “They said you were here to speak with Dr. Marshall.”
“I am.” I give her a smile even though she’s not being super friendly. I don’t care.
My mother’s going to be okay and that’s all that matters to me. She sacrificed so much to take care of me.
I want the chance to return the favor. To return some of what she gave up.
But to do that I need time, and without this trial I won’t have it.
The nurse gives me another once-over, her expression still less than friendly. “Follow me.”
I press the carefully folded check to my chest, pinning it in place as I follow her to the last door in the hall. She stands to one side, indicating with her hand that I should go in. “I’ll let him know that you’re here.”
I step into the room, scanning the desk stacked with files. “Thank,” I turn to the doorway, but the nurse is already gone, “you. I guess.” I shouldn’t let her mood bother me.
Everything I’ve been working so hard for is happening.
But I don’t like when people look at me the way she did.
It makes me feel like I’m being judged.
Which I’m sure I was.
That’s just the way the world works. Always has been.
Always will be.
Women are held to a standard none of us can live up to.
