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“I’ll meet you there,” I said, already grabbing my coat and rushing out of the meeting.
The cab ride to the hospital felt like it took forever. My mind was racing with thoughts of London and what could have happened. When I finally arrived at the waiting area, I saw Mercedes and Gin sitting together, looking worried.
“How is she?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Gin stood up and gave me a hug. “She’s okay, Spencer. They’re checking her out now.”
I let out a sigh of relief and turned to Mercedes. “Thank you for taking her to the hospital.”
“Of course, Spencer. She’s my best friend. I had to make sure she was okay,” Mercedes said, giving me a small smile.
I paced back and forth in the hospital waiting area, my mind racing with worry, but also anger. How could this have happened? Was the theater not safe?
Finally, Stan arrived, looking frazzled. “How is she?” he asked.
I filled him in on London’s status, and my concerns about the state of the theater. “How could a stage prop fall down like that? This is unacceptable,” I said, frustration seeping into my voice.
“I know, I know,” Stan said, running a hand through his hair. “The Shubert Theatre has needed repairs for a while now, and the stage manager is overloaded. We need to hire more crew and pressure the Shubert Foundation to commit to ongoing repairs.”
I nodded in agreement, grateful for Stan’s level head. “We’ll take care of it. But right now, all I care about is London’s well-being.”
Just then, a nurse approached us. “Are you here for London McCrae?” she asked.
We all stood up, anxious for news. “Yes, we are,” I said.
“She’s being discharged now. She’s free to go home, but she should rest and take it easy for a week or two,” the nurse said.
As the nurse finished her sentence, London appeared from behind her, leaning on crutches and sporting a bandage on her foot. My heart swelled with relief at the sight of her.
“London,” I said, rushing over to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Spencer. Just a little banged up,” she said with a small smile.
Gin and Mercedes stood up to give her a hug, and I helped London to the cab that I had waiting outside. As we made our way to her apartment, I was grateful that she was okay. We chatted about her accident and she told me how fortunate she was that her foot wasn’t broken, only sprained.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I said, holding her hand.
“I’m lucky to have you,” she replied, squeezing my hand back, leaning her head on my shoulder as she closed her eyes.
Once we arrived at her apartment, I helped her inside and made sure she was comfortable on the couch. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her side after what had just happened.
“Spencer, I’m okay. You don’t have to stay,” she said, noticing my worried expression.
“I want to stay,” I said firmly. “Just until you’re feeling better.”
We spent the rest of the evening talking and watching movies, just happy to be in each other’s company. As I lay down beside her on the couch, my thoughts turned to how lucky we were to have each other. Nothing else mattered in that moment except our love and the knowledge that we would always be there to support and protect each other.
* * *
The timingof London’s accident meant I had to postpone my Valentine’s Day plans for a few days until she was feeling better. But tonight was the night.
At six, I picked up London, keeping the details of the evening a mystery. Dressed in a sharp, brand-new charcoal gray suit with a matching cap, I was ready for the night ahead.
When London stepped out of the door, her beauty struck me. She was dressed in a strapless, floor-length forest green cocktail dress with a slit that showcased her smooth, toned legs and heels. Her mass of curls flowed down her shoulders, nearly to her waist, and the thought of covering her up for the cold February evening felt almost criminal. She still had to use her crutches, but the ankle was feeling much better. Another week or two, and she would be ready to go back on stage, she told me.
As we approached the entrance to Savoir-faire, London’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Seriously?” she asked, and I couldn’t help but grin, knowing I had made the right choice. I made a mental note to send her brother a bottle of wine as a thank you for his recommendation.
“Carson said you’ve always wanted to come here,” I told her, offering my hand to help her from the car and tucking it into the crook of my arm as we walked inside.
