Page 52 of Billionaire Hunt

Part III

Chapter 11

“Misha, are you awake?”

I wanted to reply but my mouth felt dry for some reason unknown to me. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was confused by the white walls around me and the beeping machines. I tried to sit up and a pair of strong hands stopped me.

“Take it easy,” said Wyatt, as he pushed me gently back into the pillows.

“Wyatt? Why are you here? Did Lacey call you?”

I was itchy, thirsty and felt a little drugged. I started scratching my arms as I looked around me. I was in the hospital. Why the heck was I in the hospital?

I groaned. I hope I hadn’t fainted when Lacey went into labor. And then I remembered, I hadn’t made it back to Lacey’s room.

“What happened to me?” I asked Wyatt, still confused by his presence but wanting answers.

“You were hit by a car.”

“Hit by a car? Now that you mention it, it does feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“It was actually a sedan. A Honda I think.”

“Thanks, Wyatt. Thanks for the clarification.”

“Sure,” he said and then frowned. “You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you? Well, at least that’s a sign that you’re on the mend.”

“What exactly did they do to me?” In a panic, I wiggled my toes just to make sure that I still could and bent my knees. I let my head fall back to the pillow and gave a sigh of relief.

“You can still walk,” Wyatt said. “The surgery went really well.”

“Surgery, what surgery?”

“You were injured. You went flying backward and landed on a piece of rebar. It tore through your lower abs...”

I looked down under the blanket, afraid of what I might find. “They had to operate?”

Wyatt seemed to be not telling me everything. It was something about his expression, something about how he couldn’t even meet my eyes that made me suspicious.

“What’s up, Wyatt? Why won’t you look at me? What happened? What did they do to me?”

“St. Anne’s is a great hospital, Misha--”

“That’s not what I asked you. What did they do to me, Wyatt?”

He swallowed hard and looked down at his toes. After a long minute, he looked back up at me. “They had to perform reconstructive surgery on your hand. It was badly injured when the car knocked you into the construction area.”

I noticed my hand then, but that wasn’t my concern. What was he leaving out?

“Spit it out.”

“Okay…here goes.” He took a deep breath and said, “They had to remove one of your ovaries...they were able to save one. But not the other...”

“So, what does that mean?”

“You might have some difficulty conceiving...maybe or maybe not…that is, if you changed your mind and actually wanted to have children.”

I shook my head...I didn’t know how I felt. I’d never given my ovaries much thought, but knowing that I was missing one made me feel sad and strangely incomplete. I knew it was silly, but I felt like I needed to grieve.