Page 145 of The Wrong Groom

“Because she’s a cat. She can’t talk!”

“She can’t talk, but she can try,” I say with a smile. “I bet she meows at you because of how much you talk to her. You’re going to turn that kitten into a little chatterbox.”

Gabriel watches us, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes as he looks between me and Peyton. He’s always been so tender around her, and it’s clear just how much she means to him.

He’s a good father. A really good one. The thought pops into my head, unbidden, and I self-consciously lower one hand to rest on my abdomen.

The door opens, and Dr. Bryant steps into the room, her white coat billowing behind her as she enters. “Good morning,” she greets us, giving Gabriel a polite nod before turning her attention to me. “How are we feeling today?”

“Better,” I reply. “I don’t feel so dizzy anymore.”

“Good,” she says. “That’s the fluids doing their job.” She taps at her tablet a few times, making a quick note. “We’re going to do a quick check to make sure everything’s okay, then you should be good to go.”

She checks the monitor by my bedside for my vitals, then wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm and runs the machine, her eyes scanning the readings as the cuff tightens. After a few moments, she releases the cuff and taps at her tablet again, making more notes.

“Blood pressure is looking good,” Dr. Bryant says, offering me a reassuring smile. “You’re fine to be discharged. There’s just some paperwork to fill out, and then you can be on your way.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bryant.”

“I’ll send the nurse in with your discharge forms in a moment. Take it easy for the next couple of days. Keep your stress levels down,” she tells me. “If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to reach out, and if you pass out again, you should come straight back here.”

I nod, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabriel nodding too, like he’s taking mental notes on the doctor’s instructions. Shit, he probably is. That realization should be worrying, in a sense. I know he’s gearing up to take care of me, and I don’t know how to wrap my head around that fact. But honestly, all I feel is relief.

Relief at the thought that I won’t be alone. That I won’t have to fend for myself.

It’s not how I want to feel. It’s a dangerous way to feel. But I can’t help it. I’ve been propping myself up for so long that I feel weak, my energy depleted. I don’t know if I could do it for longer.

As Dr. Bryant leaves the room, Gabriel edges closer to the bed. “You good?” he asks, his voice low, full of concern.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Glad to be getting out of here.”

I don’t look him in the eye. I can’t. I feel like if I do, I’ll be drawn in, hopelessly entangled in his gaze. And I can’t afford that right now.

A nurse enters the room with the discharge paperwork. She reaches between me and Gabriel to set the clipboard on the side table. “A few signatures, and you’ll be all set. You can press your call button whenever you’re ready.”

She offers a polite smile before stepping back out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. I pick up the pen, my fingers still slightly unsteady, and begin working through the forms.

Gabriel remains beside me, close enough that I can feel his breath as he exhales. I don’t look at him, focusing instead on the forms. I move through the paperwork mechanically. Name. Date of birth. Insurance.

I pause, the tip of my pen hovering over that last box. My insurance plan was through Vérité. The reminder of my parents’ control, of how even something as basic as my healthcare was tethered to them, makes my stomach twist.

Everything is in shambles now. When I leave this hospital, emerge back into the world, where am I even supposed to go? The depressing apartment Gabriel set me up in? The Fashion For All warehouse? The entire foundation of my life has crumbled. I can’t fall back on my family, even if I wanted to.

I haven’t officially been fired from Vérité, not yet, at least. I think my insurance should still be in effect. I jot down the information, my handwriting a little shakier than I’d like.

Gabriel shifts in his seat. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I grit out. “Fine.” My grip on the pen is tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

He doesn’t pry, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

I finish signing the last form and toss the clipboard onto the side table, collapsing back onto the pillows. Just the thought of moving forward has taken its toll on me.

“Alexis,” Gabriel says.

For the first time in several minutes, I turn to look at him. Peyton has settled into a chair by the door, playing idly with a stuffed animal she must’ve brought with her. Gabriel is watching me closely, those deep, stormy gray eyes searching my face.

“What?” I want my voice to sound bitter, but it doesn’t. I don’t have the energy for bitterness. I just sound tired.