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I just knew I had to stay right next to him. I wanted to hold his hand when they weren’t poking at him, and I would’ve continued to hold it if they hadn’t hustled me from the room.
Surgery. Infection. Lots of words that I hated. This kind of thing never made sense to me. Not like numbers did, not like the markets did.
Before long—or maybe it had been a long time?—I sat in an uncomfortable chair and waited. Roy sat next to me, and he stared at the television.
“So, you were what? Fourteen when you met him?”
His voice startled me, so I jumped before I forced myself to appear calm. “Sixteen.” People usually wanted more information than I gave them, so I tried to add more. “Um, we went to a party. I mean, my sisters and I went to a party. I remember we got a lot of attention for some reason, and I remember them snapping lots of pictures of us. We ended up on the internet, and people started to refer to us as the Redheads. Like I said, we got a lot of attention.” I was the least interesting to the press, but they liked it best when we were all there. Pictures of the triplet Redheads sold for more if they captured all three of us in a single shot. “Anyway, afterward, we got some threats. My dad decided we were good for business, and Michael appeared in our lives. He was in charge of our security.”
I hoped I used enough words to remain conversational, but he shifted in his seat and glanced my way before he began to ask, “And when…?”
Whatever he would have asked was cut off because Stephen appeared, holding Michael’s phone. He said, “I thought you might want this. He didn’t seem to mind giving you his phone, so I thought you might want to contact your family and give them an update.”
“Thanks.” I took it from him, flipping it over to look at the screen. Sure enough, my sisters had texted me back—a lot. I wanted to answer them, but something seemed so wrong about communicating with them while Michael wasn’t okay. My head was too full. Besides, what would I say to them, exactly? I had to calm my mind. Everything was just too much, but Michael…he reallyhadto be okay.
“Hey.” Roy touched my shoulder, and I glanced up at him. “Are you okay?”
How much to tell them? “I’m fine.”
I wasn’t, but I really didn’t know them. Hell, people who did know me still wouldn’t know what to do with me in that moment. I was really good at hiding this part of myself from them—so good, in fact, that I’d taken myself to Hong Kong so they’d never have to see it.
“Okay.” Roy nodded to Stephen, and they stepped away from me. It was probably best if they gave me a minute. I walked to the window to stare out at the white-topped mountains in the distance as the two men continued to talk in low tones. How long had it been since they’d taken Michael into surgery?Fuck.I was really freaking out, my pulse racing until my chest ached with it. Even though I was silent and probably looked serene, my entire nervous system pulsed with screaming terror.
Or at least people told me over the years I looked calm while everything shattered inside me.
I always seemed like I had it together. I snorted. Everyone thought I had it together, but it was all an illusion.
“He’s going to be okay.” Stephen’s voice caught my attention, and I shifted my gaze to his eyes. “You’re different than I thought you’d be, Bridget. I always thought you were just another spoiled princess that Michael made money protecting. But Hope wasn’t like that, and you don’t seem to be either. I can see why he likes you. I didn’t understand it, but I do now.”
Roy elbowed him. “What I was going to say was too far but what you just said is better?”
He shrugged. “Look at her. She’s wrecked.”
So maybe I wasn’t giving off serene.
My voice shook, but I had to ask. “Is he going to be okay?”
They both nodded, but it was Roy who answered. “He’s insanely tough. It would take more than this to put down Michael Li, I can promise you that.”
I knew better than to put much stock in promises, particularly the ones that shouldn’t have been made in the first place, but I tried to cling to the sliver of hope anyway.
* * *
Michael was so quiet,and he didn’t move as he slept off his surgery. If the machines hadn’t beeped to tell me his heart rate, his pulse, and how he breathed, I might be afraid he’d died. Every once in a while, the whoosh of the IV pumping antibiotics to fend off infection pulsed through the room, but otherwise, the room was quiet.
I blew out a breath with the next whoosh and considered how I seemed to find all kinds of dichotomies lately. In this case, a room could be so noisy it was actually silent.
If he was conscious, would he want me in the room with him? I really had no idea.
“You came,” I whispered to him, fiddling with a corner of his sheet. He needed to rest, and I knew everyone cleared the room when Hope had needed to sleep after a similar surgery, but I couldn’t make myself leave yet. “I needed you and you came. You always come. Thank you, Michael. I’m not worthy of your attention, and maybe I never have been. Maybe I deserved to marry that guy? Maybe that was life catching up to me or something…” I wiped at my face, surprised to find tears again. I was ridiculous with all my crying lately.What is the matter with me?
Michael squeezed my hand, his fingers warm and reassuringly alive. “Bridget,” he whispered. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
I sniffed. “Oh no. You’re not comfortingme. You got shot taking care of me. I should get the nurse. And—”
He squeezed my hand again, effectively shutting me up.
“I’m okay. I wish this was my first go round with this, but I’ve taken a bullet or two before. I’ll be okay. Just sit here with me and try not to worry. I know that you do. All the time. About everything. Just sit here, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”
