Page 18 of Claiming Genevieve

I walk slowly down the hall, wanting to make sure that Chris doesn’t catch a glimpse of me, wherever he is. The last thing I want is to start another argument here, where Genevieve might see or hear. I don’t know if he’s out in the hall or if he’s gone to her room, but I keep a slow, calm, cautious pace as I watch for a glimpse of her.

Finally, halfway down the hall, I stop. On the other side of a half-drawn curtain, I see her in her hospital bed, talking to a nurse standing on the other side. Her face is in profile, and I see the dried tear tracks down her cheek, the pallor of her skin, the way she looks utterly small in that bed. All of the life, the fire, the beauty that I saw in her on that stage, everything that, for a few brief minutes, made her seem larger than life, so muchmorethan anyone I’d ever seen before—it’s all gone, leaving her a delicate, injured bird swathed in blankets.

Chris is standing in the corner of the room, listening. I see him shift, and I back up quickly before he can catch sight of me. I look at Genevieve once more, and every part of me wants to go to her—to apologize for any part of this that might have been my fault, to beg her to forgive me. I want to tell her that I’ll do anything to make it better, to help her, to make this right.

You barely know her.That small voice prods at the back of my mind, but I ignore it. My mind might be telling me one thing—and it might be right, but every emotion, every feeling I have is telling me something else, drawing me toward her with a pull that feels impossible to resist.

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’ve never been very good at listening to my head. Not the one on my shoulders, at least. And maybe it’s just unfulfilled lust pulling me toward Genevieve, or the lure of something I want and can’t have, right when my life is being overwhelmed by things that I don’t want that are being forced on me.

I back up, turning on my heel to leave, knowing that I need to walk away right now before I do something I’ll regret… something that will make this awful day worse for this woman that I can’t seem to stay away from.

But one thing is for sure—I’m not going to be able to walk away for good.

8

GENEVIEVE

Ifeel like I’m trapped in some kind of nightmare.

Shortly after a nurse comes to talk to me about my vitals and the bloodwork they ran, Chris shows up. He gives me a cursory kiss on the cheek before retreating to the corner, and I try not to look at him as I focus on what the nurse is saying. I’m still so furious at him, I don’t trust myself to speak.

I’m furious withbothof them, but I don’t know what I’d say if I tried. I’m overwhelmed with shock and grief, and I feel as if a yawning hole has opened up inside of me, threatening to drag me down and never let me out again.

I’ve never felt like this before, but it feels impossible to fight against. Right now, all I want to do is close my eyes, sink down into the darkness, and never come back out.

“The doctor will be in soon,” the nurse says, and Chris goes to sit down. As he starts to sink into a chair, I finally find the strength to open my eyes again.

“I want to be alone.” The words come out smaller than I’d hoped, my voice cracking a little, and I hate it. I sound as if I’ve been crying, my voice thick and broken, and I hate feeling weak. I hate showing so much emotion in front of a man who is partially responsible for what happened.

I should have just broken up with him,I think despondently. I’d put it off because it had felt like a distraction, like it would take too much focus away from my performance, and told myself that it was better to wait.

Now look where I am.

“Genevieve, I—” Chris starts to speak, but I cut him off.

“I want to be alone. Please, just… go.”

His mouth tightens. “If I come back and find that redheaded piece of shit in your room?—”

My head drops back against the pillow, and I fight the urge to scream.Right now? That’s what you’re focused on right now?“I told him I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Well, he was here.” Chris sounds angry, and when I open my eyes again, I can see the muscle in his jaw twitching. “He was trying to get your room number.”

That should make me angry. I told him to go, that I never wanted to see him again, and he showed up at the hospital anyway. And yet…

A part of me can’t help but be touched that he tried. It makes me wonder, for just a moment, if I haven’t been fair to him. If I should have given him a chance, rather than writing him off completely from the start.

No. That’s the last thing I need.Rowan is complicated in ways Chris never has been. The chemistry between us alone would be a distraction, and his position in the mafia is a complication I don’t need in my life.

Although now… now who knows? Maybe it won’t matter any longer. That thought opens up that yawning pit of despair again, and I feel tears brimming at my lashes. “Well, clearly they didn’t give it to him,” I mutter. “And I really, really want to be alone. Just go, okay?”

Displeasure is written over every inch of Chris’s face, but he finally shrugs. “Alright,” he says. “Whatever, Genevieve. Just let me know when you’re coming home.”

He strides out of the room without so much as a peck on the cheek, but I’m honestly grateful. I don’t want to be touched right now. I don’t want anything other than to be alone, and to go to sleep.

I’m not alone for long, though. A few minutes after Chris leaves, both Evelyn and Dahlia burst into the exam room, Dahlia first. They’re both pale, faces wreathed with worry, and rush over to my bedside immediately.

“Genevieve,” Dahlia breathes. She, like Evelyn, is still dressed for the performance—wearing a mint silk gown in a Grecian style that disguises her growing pregnancy. It’s undoubtedly one of Evelyn’s creations. Evelyn is wearing a navy blue chiffon dress with tight sleeves off the shoulder, and the bump of her six-month pregnancy showing just beneath the waist of the dress, her hair piled up atop her head. “Are you alright? I couldn’t believe what we saw…” she breaks off. “Of course you’re not alright. I’m sorry. That was thoughtless. I’m just—” She looks at Evelyn, who is standing there quietly, her lips pressed together.

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