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She gave him a dubious look, and he imagined she was wondering what Rose would say. But she nodded and began handing him documents.
For an hour, they went through the paperwork, with Steven dictating the next steps in each case. By the time Lanie left, Steven’s confidence in the state of his law practice had increased, except for the matter of Mr. Willoughby. While nothing would replace going into the office to get work done, he was glad he could handle some of it remotely. He just hoped he could keep up with it all.
Chapter Six
“Steven is being transferred from ICU this afternoon,” Dr. Myers said.
Rose looked up from her chart. “What time?”
He shrugged. “It depends on when they can find him a bed and get him moved, but I would imagine around lunchtime.” When she didn’t respond, he raised an eyebrow. “You can take your break then if you want.”
As much as she knew she should visit him, part of her didn’t want to. As if his reaction to being discharged to a rehab facility wasn’t bad enough, he’d then had the audacity to ask his sister to bring work by on a daily basis—right after Dr. Myers had told him he needed to take it easy or risk another heart attack. Though she tried to see things from Steven’s perspective, she couldn’t help being frustrated. Was he in denial about the reality of his situation?
She understood his desire to go home. He was getting restless after being cooped up in the hospital. And the idea of continuing that existence probably sounded like a prison sentence to him. But throwing himself back into work when he was still healing wasn’t going to get him out of a facility any faster. In fact, if he didn’t give himself time to heal, his stay might just be extended.
With a forced smile, Rose nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Myers. I’ll do that.”
He leaned back, assessing her. “Trouble in the love nest?”
“Not at all,” she said with feigned sweetness. “We all want him to get better so he can come home.”
“It should only be a couple more days here, assuming everything goes well.” His expression turned stern. “But I wouldn’t expect him to be home anytime soon, and the recovery is likely to take months, if not longer.”
“I know.” Her tone hardened as her patience wore thin. Who does this guy think he is? Like she didn’t understand how varied the recovery timeline could be for heart attack survivors, let alone the other injuries Steven had sustained.
“Oh, I have no doubt you understand, but does he?”
She glowered at the doctor. “I will ensure he follows all of your advice.”
To her surprise, he laughed before turning to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck with that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.
Glancing at her with an impish grin, he said, “Just that I’ve seen his type before. Workaholics don’t like to be kept away from the thing they love most.”
“That shows how well you know him.” She stomped away, heading to the nurses’ station. His laughter followed her down the hall.
Her irritation rose when she realized Dr. Myers was right. Steven was a workaholic, and he’d already demonstrated that he would resist the changes his doctors had suggested he make. Rose sighed, leaning against the wall. Convincing him to take it easy would be a battle, but she was ready for it. At least, she hoped she was.
But she didn’t need to worry about it yet. Steven would be in the hospital for a few more days. With that in mind, she started her rounds, all while mentally preparing herself for when she saw Steven again.
At lunchtime, Rose went up to the ICU and was surprised to find Steven already gone. The nurse at the station gave her his new room number, and she took the stairs to his floor.
Steven was propped up in his bed when she entered, watching something on the television on the opposite wall. His room already had several flower arrangements set up on the limited furniture, and the scent reminded her unnervingly of a funeral home. She knocked lightly on the door, and he turned toward her with a lopsided smile. His face still had angry scratches from where it’d been cut by glass, and a bruise bloomed on his forehead. But they’d removed the IV from his arm.
“How do you like the new digs?” he asked.
The tension in her shoulders eased as she took in his expression. No furrowed brow, no sense of frustration. Maybe moving out of the ICU was what he needed.
“Much less restrictive.” She stepped over to his bedside and took his hand. “How do you feel?”
“Not as bad as yesterday.” He gestured to his lunch tray. “Is the food served here different? It sure tastes better.”
Rose laughed. “It all comes from the same place.”
“Maybe it’s just that I’m that much closer to freedom.”
“You’ve got a few more days,” she warned, trying to keep her tone light.
