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“Yeah, you were,” Finley countered, a teasing smile on his face.
“I’m just glad Teagan is all right. I was worried.”
“She’ll be fine,” the doctor assured as Teagan fussed in Sadie’s arms.
“Mark, I need to speak to you when I get back to the office. While I’m here, I might as well visit with Oliver.”
“Shit, I completely forgot to ask how he was,” Finley said, his face flushing with guilt.
“He’s awake.”
Everyone stared at me, eyes wide. “When?” they asked in unison.
“Just yesterday. He’s still on the respirator, though.”
“So he can’t talk?” Mark asked, concern etched on his face.
I felt horrible that I couldn’t feel the same way they did, feel the same concern for Oliver they did. But they didn’t know what I knew and what my husband hid from me. The betrayal ate at me like bacteria.
“Not until they remove it. Doctor Shu said maybe today, depending on how stable he is.”
I tried to sound positive, but inside, I couldn’t care less if Oliver ever got off that respirator. The thought of having to talk to him again filled me with dread.
“If everything is good here, I’m going upstairs.”
“We should visit,” Mark said.
“Give it a few days. Let him acclimate to everything.”
“Will do. You let us know,” Finley said.
I said my goodbyes, kissed my niece’s soft head, and took the elevator to the ICU. The nurses let me in, and when I entered Oliver’s room, he was sitting up without the respirator. Tubes still connected to his arms, and two drip bags hung above him. He gave me a weak grin, but I remained stoic.
“They took it out?” I asked, eyeing the scar on his chest revealed by his loose gown, a stark reminder of that horrible night.
“This morning,” he replied, his voice rough and raspy. He saw me looking at the scar and quickly covered it.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Like I got run over by a truck.” He coughed, and a nurse came in.
“Can he have something to drink?” I asked.
“He can, but slow sips,” she warned.
I poured him some water and handed him the cup, resisting the urge to throw it in his face. It was ridiculous to think that way about a man who had just escaped death, but I hated him. I didn’t want to be here, but I would bide my time.
Oliver took a few sips, his hand shaky. He had lost much of his muscle tone from lying in bed for two months. I took the cup and placed it on the table by his bedside, my mind already drifting back to Fox Asset Corporation.
"You look beautiful," Oliver breathed, his eyes drinking in the sight of me as I stood awkwardly by his hospital bed.
I met his gaze, my voice ice-cold. "You don't."
The slight smile on his face crumbled, replaced by a deep frown that etched new lines into his pale skin. What the fuck was wrong with me? I couldn’t stop the venom that was oozing from me even though I knew it was wrong.
"I'll get back in shape," he said, his tone defensive as he shifted uncomfortably against the pillows. "It's only temporary."
I glanced at my watch, eager for an escape. "I have to go. I have a couple of conference calls today and a meeting with our contractor."
