Page 125 of Love Me Tomorrow

If I have to guess, I’m thinking that the show will do anything to ensure I don’t turn around and sue their asses to the moon and back. This hospital visit, to check if I have a concussion, is apparently “on them.”

And for the last forty-five minutes, I’ve been stuck in this room with nothing but Joe’s scuffed-up face on the TV for company.

I fall back against the pillows, then wince when the base of my skull connects with the metal headboard. “Ow.”

Hand to my head, I rub the sore spot, then cringe all over again when the bedside phone starts ringing. I throw out a hand, palm smacking the surface until my fingers grasp the receiver and I answer it, croaking out a weak, “Hello?”

“Savannah!” my mom shrieks in my ear. “Oh, God, we saw on the TV! We’ve been calling every hospital in the LA area for over an hour after we couldn’t reach your cell. Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay. I cannotbelieve that man—”

There’s a shuffling of hands, I think, and then Dad’s voice is coming through the line: “Cherie, I love you but are youcrazy? Taking on that man like you’re some sort of superhero?”

A weak smile pulls at my mouth. “You told me to get back up, Pops.”

Silence greets me for a second before he exclaims, “That isnotwhat I meant.”

“Pops, what other situations call for a headbutt like that?” I hear Amelie ask in the background. “She did good.”

“Well, now she probably has a concussion, and whose fault is that, Edgar? You never told me you taught them to headbutt people.”

Dad groans. “Marie, it was self-defense. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Too late for that! My baby is on the other side of the country with a probable concussion. I am worrying. I am pastworrying. Iamworry.”

Right, then.

As it turns out, I do have a minor concussion, but it’s probably best if I keep that diagnosis to myself. For now, at least. “Pops, Mom, Amelie, I love you all so much, but maybe we could hold off on the arguing until a point when my head doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode?”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

My family promptly launches into a discussion of flights that they can hop on and Mom telling me to get a second opinion of everything the doctor tells me, and I can’t help it—I smile, so wide, so big, it hurts. The Roses are not perfect, not in the slightest, but in this moment, I feelloved.

Dad’s voice jogs me back into the conversation when he says, “And you tell Harvey thank you,cherie.I don’t . . . I’ll tell him for myself when y’all get back, but please let him know how much I appreciate him defending you. He’s—he’s a good man. I would have seen it sooner if not for my pride.”

I know how much it takes for him to admit that. Throat tight, mouth dry, I whisper, “I’ll tell him, Pops. Thank you.”

When a knock sounds on the door a second later, I issue a quick good-bye that’s met with protests all the way around, and then sit up tall in the bed.Please let it be Owen. I haven’t heard a word from him after I was carted away in the ambulance, and my patience is wearing thin.

I need to have him here with me.

And I need to know that he won’t hate me forever for not telling him the truth.

“Come in!”

The door cracks open. Only, it’s not Owen’s familiar face that I see but Nick and Dom’s, followed by a tall blonde that I immediately recognize as Aspen Levi—fromCelebrity Tea Presents, of course. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Joe Devonsson really did have his fingers dipped in all of the pots.

Doing my best to ignore the throbbing in my head, I smile at the trio. “Hey, guys. Long time no see.” I look to Aspen, and for her, I try to smile a little harder. God knows I look a hot mess. “It’s so nice to meet you. Is Topher here?”

Her blue eyes go wide at my mention of her son, like she’s surprised I remembered his name. “No, he’s at home. In Maine, I mean. We were going to bring him, but Dominic thought we could use a small adults-only weekend before the school year starts up.”

Dom stands at the foot of the bed, his hands resting on the metal footboard. “She’s lying. Topher ditched us last minute for his friends. Apparently, a week of nothing but playing video games trumps three days in California.”

Aspen laughs, hooking one finger into the back of Dom’s jeans in a way that speaks volumes to the familiarity between them. My heart warms. Dom may have come onPut A Ring On Itfor all the wrong reasons, but so did I. I’m happy he found his person, and by the way he glances over at her, his black eyes practically glittering with affection, I know without a doubt that he has.

I turn to Nick. “Where’s Mina?”

It’s Aspen who answers with a wry grin. “Probably slapping herself silly for going to a beauty convention instead. Do you know what she texted me when the fight broke out?”

Nick glances over at her, his brows furrowed. “She texted you?”

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