Page 92 of Angel In Armani

“Another doctor will cost you about a hundred thousand dollars,” Lucas said. “I didn’t think you had that sort of cash.”

She stared up at him. “So I need you because of the money?”

“No.” His mouth twisted. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what is sounded like. Poor little Sara needs the big rich doctor to save her family. Well, guess what, Lucas. I can save myself. And you can find yourself a new pilot. And a new girl to rescue. I quit.”

His mouth was flat. “Actually I think you quit back in that ballroom. You let my mother scare you off. Funny, I always thought you were brave. That you wouldn’t let other people hold you back.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I just let them make me forget about reality sometimes. But now I remember.” She reached for the door handle. “I have to go. And so do you. Your priorities are waiting.”

Chapter Twenty

“Sara, if you don’t at least pretend to eat I’m going to have to do something drastic,” Liza said three days later.

Sara looked up from the meat loaf she was pushing around her plate. “Sorry, Mom. It’s great. I’m just not that hungry.” But she made herself eat a forkful, which tasted pretty much like nothing, and forced it past the seemingly permanent lump in her throat, washing it down with water.

Across the table, her dad was frowning at her. “Have you heard from?—”

“Sean, don’t,” Liza said sharply. “Sara said she didn’t want to talk about Lucas.”

“Sara’s being pigheaded,” Sean muttered, but he subsided without saying anything further. He’d been very quiet since they’d come back from the hospital without him having surgery. He didn’t seem angry, just quiet. Though apparently not quiet enough to keep his opinion about Lucas to himself.

Sara ate another bite then pushed her plate away. “I have to go, Mom. I need an early night.”

Yeah, that was a plan. Go to bed early so she could lie awake staring at the ceiling and replaying the fight with Lucas over and over again for even longer. But it was Monday tomorrow and she would have to go into Charles Air and start working on getting the A-Star fixed. There might be enough money from what she’d earned at the Saints in the last month or so to make a good chunk of down payment on the repairs, even if the insurance company wouldn’t come to the party.

If there it wasn’t enough, then she’d just find another job and save until there was.

And then there was the fun task of finding a new surgeon for her dad. So far every orthopedic surgeon in Manhattan and the whole damned state seemed to be booked up for months. No one could even see her dad for a consult.

So she would start trying out of state if she had to.

She drove home with Dougal and gave him his last walk of the day. He looked almost as dejected as she felt. Every time there were footsteps in the hallway, he went to the door and stood there wagging his tail hopefully, obviously waiting for Lucas.

Watching him was torturous. Three days. Three days and Lucas hadn’t called her. No one from the Saints had called her. She’d thought maybe Maggie might, to try to talk her out of quitting, but apparently not.

She’d called the hospital to see if she could find out how Sam was, but they’d refused to give her the information over the phone. There was no way in hell she was going in person. Not when she might run into Lucas at the hospital.

Lucas whom she missed like she might miss a limb if she lost one.

But despite the fact that she’d smashed her heart to pieces, she didn’t think she’d been wrong. She didn’t want to be low down on the list with someone who was supposed to love her, and she couldn’t ask Lucas to give up being a doctor or to give up baseball. So he was always going to have competing priorities. Nothing was going to change about that.

Damned fairy tales. She should have remembered they were written to teach people lessons.

She almost caved to temptation and called Lucas on Monday morning. She’d lain awake most of the night again, and the emptiness where he should have been lying next to her had pushed at her and made the pain even worse for too many hours before she’d fallen into an uneasy sleep.

Just one last conversation. Closure. Isn’t that what they called it? End things on a better note. Tell him it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe then it would be easier.

But before she gave in, her phone rang and she found herself, much to her shock, speaking to the assessor from the insurance company. Who wanted a final look at the A-Star. That afternoon.

She resisted the urge to whoop in triumph down the phone and instead limited herself to a silent Snoopy dance of victory around the kitchen as she agreed to meet him at the airfield at two.

A record-fast shower and breakfast—hope apparently returning some of her appetite—and she was on her way, determined to have every single piece of paperwork the assessor could possibly want organized before he got there. She was going to call her parents and tell them the good news but decided to wait until she actually had some details. That might cheer her dad up at least.

The assessor even turned up at the appointed time and clambered up and around the A-Star with rapid efficiency. He took another statement about what had happened, collected copies of the paperwork—which the insurance company already had, but she wasn’t going to argue—and told her he’d call her in the morning with his final verdict.

Sara could have kissed him but she just nodded. Finally, finally, something was going right. Maybe losing Lucas had been the last kick in the teeth karma had in store for her. She went home, intending to call her parents, but decided on a nap first.

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