Page 5 of I Loved You First

Gloss, Inc.’s CEO had been thrilled with the seemingly flawless weekend, and ultimately, Fiona was happy, too. Laurier Group would get their whopping payout for a job well done, and she would get a generous cut of the profits.

But her paycheck and bonus mattered little at the moment. The next eight hours were for her—before she had to meet with the next client booked into her packed calendar and do it all again.

“You’re living the dream,” she reminded herself as she stopped in front of her dresser mirror, noting the wrinkles in her blouse and the dark under-eye shadows her concealer couldn’t hide. But even as she said so, she couldn’t deny that lately, the dream felt more like a nightmare.

Heading to the en suite, she plucked a makeup wipe from the package on the marble countertop, cleaning her face as she eyed her electric toothbrush on its charger.

Opting for a quick swish of mouthwash instead, she pulled off her shirt, then unzipped her skirt, tossing both toward the hamper as she walked to the bed.

Thrilled to be half-naked in her panties and bra, she debated whether to pull back the covers or just collapse on top of the comforter.

“Pull back the covers, Fi,” she encouraged, making herself do it. Climbing in, she moaned as she snuggled her head on her pillow and her body against her soft sheets.

“So good,” she murmured with her eyes closed, already mostly asleep.

At some point, she jerked awake when her cell phone started ringing somewhere across the room. Blinking at the bedside clock, she realized it had barely been twenty minutes since she dozed off.

Groaning, she got up. Because no one called at eleven thirty unless there was a problem.

She grabbed the phone from her purse, reading the Vermont area code as she swiped her screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Fiona?”

She struggled to keep her eyes open as she wandered back to bed. “Yes, this is she.”

“Fiona, this is Gage Mickle. I’m sorry to call so late.”

Still groggy, she frowned as she sat on the mattress, calculating the time difference between here and the East Coast as she listened to her longtime family friend. It was two thirty a.m. on the other side of the country. “That’s okay. What’s going on?”

“It’s your mom, hon. She, Cheryl, and Denise were in a car accident. Bobby and I just made it down here to Boston⁠—”

Any remnants of her sleep-induced fog vanished as she rushed back to her feet. “Boston? Is she okay? Is everyone okay?” Because a transfer to Boston typically meant things were far from good.

“Everyone’s alive and conscious. But the extraction was a delicate process. It took quite a while.”

“Extraction?” Fiona sank back to the bed when her legs felt like jelly. “What happened?”

“They were heading back from a girls’ weekend down at the cabin. A tractor-trailer clipped the car when it passed them on 91. Denise lost control, and they crashed in the woods.”

“Oh God,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her racing heart as she blindly stared out at the city through the huge panes of glass.

“They’ve got everyone settled into beds here in the emergency department,” Gage continued. “I’ve only been able to talk to Cheryl’s doctor since she’s my wife and all. Bobby’s in with Denise now. But I peeked in at your mom a few minutes ago. They were casting her arm, and she had a couple of bandages on her head. I heard them saying something about getting her a CT scan since she’s a little banged up.”

Fiona stood again, hurrying to the dresser, pulling on fresh jeans and a top from her drawers. “Do you think I can talk to her?”

“I’ll see what I can do. They’re just about to wheel her away.”

Seconds later, there was a small commotion. “Fiona?”

She closed her eyes, struggling not to cry when she heard her mother’s voice. “Mom.”

“I’m okay, honey. I’ve got some bruised ribs, a broken wrist, and a headache.”

Fiona blinked back her tears, relieved that Mom did indeed sound mostly fine. But mostly fine wasn’t good enough.

Getting to work, she dumped the clothes from her suitcase into the hamper before moving between her closet and dresser, pulling out several items to pack. “Do you know how long they’re keeping you?”

“They said it would depend on the scan, but at least for the next several hours.”