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“Nice try.” He smirked. “But you’re not getting off that easy.”
Lanie glanced over her shoulder. “There’s really not much to say. I convinced Rose to discuss the situation with the vendors. I assume she told you their response was less than ideal?”
“She did. But I told her we should determine areas where we could cut back on expenses.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not realistic.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn’t even flinch.
“Steven, come on. You’re in rehab, for goodness’ sake! And no one can give a definitive answer for how long you’ll be here or even what exactly happens next. Wouldn’t it make more sense to postpone until you’re recovered so you can actually enjoy your wedding?”
Shaking his head, he clenched his jaw. His sister would probably see his refusal to listen as stubbornness, but he’d chosen his hill, and he would die on it if he had to.
Dad and Marvin entered then, and Lanie breathed a sigh of relief. Steven hid a smile. If she thought the conversation was over, she had another thought coming. As soon as he got out of that place, he would do whatever was needed to get his life back on track.
The first day of physical therapy at the rehab facility was probably the worst day Steven had had since his heart attack. While Lacey at the hospital had been willing to work at his pace, gently pushing him beyond his comfort zone, Adrian, his new physical therapist, was a drill sergeant. At the end of his physical therapy session, which lasted for two hours, Steven could literally feel every muscle in his body. Well, almost every muscle. His legs were still disconnected from the rest of his nervous system.
“You look like you could use a session in the massage room,” Adrian said as he laid several bags of ice over Steven’s arms and right leg.
Steven could only grunt, too tired to articulate a response. Resting his head against the bed’s pillow, he closed his eyes. Will I even be able to move the parts of my body that weren’t broken tomorrow? Everything felt like a dead weight.
“It’ll get easier.” Adrian patted his back. “I promise.”
“Sure it will,” Steven muttered.
Adrian’s laugh drifted away as Steven dozed off. But he was abruptly awakened a moment later when Adrian shook him. He opened his eye to a slit, not at all happy to have his well-deserved nap interrupted.
“You can go back to sleep in your own bed,” Adrian said, reading his mind. “I need to prepare for my next patient.”
“More like your next victim,” Steven scoffed, which earned him a grin. He had to admit that despite how much he’d hated every minute of their session, he liked Adrian. And if he wanted to stand next to Rose at the altar and walk with her down the aisle at the end of the summer, he needed to push himself. He just wished the exercises hadn’t been so grueling on his first day.
Adrian helped Steven into the wheelchair, then an orderly came and took him away. Once he was settled into bed, his mind was too preoccupied for him to sleep. Lanie had promised an update on how things were going at the office, but he hadn’t heard from her yet. It took some shifting and shimmying in the bed, but he managed to grab his phone from the nightstand. His email was filled with messages from Mr. Willoughby, which he ignored. The one nice thing about being stuck in rehab was his ability to avoid some of his more annoying clients, though he would have to deal with Mr. Willoughby eventually.
A knock on the door startled him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he met his sister’s gaze. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and gave him an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, but I’ve been sorting things out at the office.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not bad, though I’m still getting my bearings.” She bit her lip. “Sandra and I were discussing putting an ad in the paper for a law clerk.”
He crossed his arms. “I want to be there for the interviews.”
“But the work is piling up without you. Sandra can only handle so much. You need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Bring the work here. I can review it between my therapy sessions.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. Rose would kill me if she knew! Besides, we don’t even know how long you’ll be—“
“I’m only staying here for two weeks,” he insisted, interrupting her.
“That was the bare minimum,” she retorted, throwing up her hands. “And how long do you think we can hold off your clients? Mr. Willoughby has been blowing up the phone. Poor Leslie looked about ready to quit when I was there.”
“She won’t,” Steven said, though he sounded a lot surer than he felt. He nodded to her bag. “Do you have something for me to sign?”
He thought she would continue to press her case, but she sighed and removed a pile of folders. After setting them on his bed, she flipped the first one open.
“Just a few pleadings. And then Sandra drafted a will and trust she wanted you to review.”
