Page 131 of The Christmas Wife

As if I need the family money? I am doing fine, more than fine, on my own steam.

I glare at her.

She tips her head back.

I flatten my lips. "Fine," I snap. "That's why I came up with this idea of a fake relationship. I should have known you were all wrong for it."

"Fine." She pulls herself up to her full height, "There's one more thing I need to tell you."

"Oh?"

She nods. "Go fuck yourself."

She brushes past me, walks out of the room, my house, my life… My everything.

My vision tunnels and my heart hammers so fast, I am sure I am having a cardiac as well.Stop her; stop her.I step toward her. Liam plants his body in my path.

"Get out of my way," I growl.

"Get ahold of yourself first." Liam grabs my shoulders. I shake him off, raise my fist—the wrong one—the one with my injured finger in a splint.Fuck.He swerves; my hand grazes his face. Pain crashes behind my eyes. The next moment something slams into my face, the world tilts, and darkness pulls me under.

38

Weston

"You’re a wanker, you ass," Damian frowns down at me.

I tilt my chin up from where I am sprawled out on the examination table.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Arpad drawls from the other side.

This scenario is all wrong. As a doctor, I am used to being in there, with the action, inside the OR, where I use my talent, my wits, my instinct, to save lives. Instead, I am sprawled out here…like the loser I am.Loser, fucking loser.

I try to sit up, and my entire body protests. I wince. Damian touches my shoulder. "Take it easy, Kincaid," he cautions.

"Fuck off," I mutter. What’s wrong with me? I shoved her away. I knew what I was doing, I was aware of it. I had done it while in full possession of my senses. I hadn’t been able to stop myself. What should I have said instead? Please stay; don’t go. All the shit I threw your way? Those were my issues, not yours. My insecurities, my bloody fallacies about myself. I thought I was invincible, invulnerable, I thought I could control my fate,I thought… I could live without your touch, your kisses, your beautiful cunt…your spirit, your sass, your lips that clung to mine, your heart…your tender heart, your fun-loving attitude, that I admit, sometimes got on my nerves. I mean, can anyone be that chirpy, that happy all the time? What hurts of your own had you been hiding underneath? I’d never bothered to find out… And now, it is too late.

"Too late," I mumble.

"What’s that?" Damian lowers his head to my eye level. "The fuck did you say?" he demands.

"It’s too fucking late." I drag my fingers through my hair. "I let her go, man."

"Who are you talking about?"

My head whirls; I squeeze my eyes shut to stop it. Run an internal check on my vitals—pain in my right shoulder and my left, my left eye hurts like a bitch, my broken finger is numb and my chest... The band around my chest, that hollow sensation in my abdomen... I straighten, "Mother, how is she? Is she…?" I swallow.Don’t say it; don’t think it."Is she…?" I swallow down the ball of emotion in my throat. Shit, since when did I become this weak? This unable to take on my share of the burden for my family? This selfish that I am slumped in a corner worrying about myself... My bloody love life, which isn’t… It is more than that. Hell. I sit up; my head spins, "Whoa." I slouch down again, "The hell is wrong with me?"

"They had to sedate you."

"What?"

"You had a bit of a breakdown, ol’ chap?"

"What?"

"You lost it there," Arpad’s somber voice reaches me.

"You’re not making any sense, man." I straighten. My shoulder hurts like a bitch—my right shoulder. I glance down at my injured finger; the splint has been replaced by a fresh one.

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