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Chapter Two
With worried eyes, Tyler glanced at the car’s digital clock. Speeding along the busy avenue and through heavy traffic, he arrived at City Hall in record time, parked the car, and dashed to the waiting room. He exhaled in relief when he saw her.
Sitting between her mother and brother, Beverly waited for him, her low-cut, white dress molding and enhancing her voluptuous figure.
He yanked off his winter coat, revealing his own wedding attire. “So sorry I’m late, babe,” he said, striding toward her, intent on hugging her.
She jumped to her feet and spun toward him. Her deep frown promised a storm and...delivered.
“An hour and half late, Dr. Kent,” she spat the words.
“Yes, I know. I’m so sorry, but I had an emergency.” He reached for her waist, wanting to pull her into his arms. Her perfume, a warm scent he could never resist, enveloped him in its gardenia overtones.
“Youalwayshave an emergency,” she complained petulantly.
“I wish I could help it, but you know what a doctor’s life is—”
Cutting him off, she hissed between gritted teeth. “Is this how our life will be?”
“Huh...not if I can help it, but if a patient—”
“Will your patients always come before your wife?” she shrieked.
He frowned. “Of course not, babe. I love you.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. Listen to me, Tyler. I’m not ready to play second fiddle to your patients. I’m always waiting for you—even on my wedding day,” she bellowed, her voice rising with every sentence, her hazel eyes glittering in anger.
Around them, people turned their heads, interested in the squabbling that broke up the monotony of the waiting room.
“It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t leave my patient—”
“You couldn’t call another doctor? You couldn’t tell your patient to come back later?”
Exasperated by her unending accusations and lack of empathy, he huffed out a frustrated breath. “Enough, Bev. I came as quickly as I could. Don’t make such a big hullabaloo—”
“A hullab... You call this a hullabaloo, you…you, jerk?” Her hand lifted and the side of his face stung.
“Are you crazy?” he blurted, touching his cheek and eyebrow.
“Go to hell, Tyler. I hate you,” she cried, before dissolving into tears.
“Look at what you’ve done,” her mother screamed. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”
“You really should say something to comfort her, man,” her brother Jeff suggested. “She’s waited all this time for you.”
“Waited for what? To slap me?”
If Beverly thought her tears would diffuse his own anger, she had another think coming. He was fed up with her storms and theatrics. He rubbed his tender cheek, felt something sticky, and glanced at his fingers.
“Blood. My loving fiancée draws blood just before our wedding,” he whispered in shock. Her fingers must have left a mark while her nails had clawed his lower eyebrow.
“Go to hell,” she repeated. “I don’t ever want to see you again.” She pivoted away from him and walked toward the door.
“Bev, honey, wait,” her mother called.
“Do something,” Jeff insisted.
Still stunned, Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I should clean the cut before it gets infected. Is there a restroom around here?”
