Page 46 of Phantom
Ben’s eyebrows rise, but Dr. Portia just nods. “Of course.”
My brother loops her medical bag over his shoulder and she follows behind as I lead her to the bedroom door. But before I can cross the threshold, Ben stops me from entering the hallway.
“We’ll just be a moment, doctor,” Ben tells her and juts his chin toward my foyer, indicating she go on.
I wait until she’s relatively out of earshot before questioning him. “What?”
At this point, I’m annoyed I even asked him to be here. I was worried and frantic when I ordered Jaime to contact him, but I needed my brother, not someone who would judge me and make the situation worse.
“Look, I’m sorry I was harsh.” Ben’s voice is gentler this time as my twin seemingly reads my mind again. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. What you’re getting ourfamilyinto. I needed to know you understood the risks.”
“You’ve no reason to worry. I won’t put anyone in danger.”
He raises his free hand, surrendering the argument. “All right. I hope that’s true. I won’t say anything else. I trust you.”
He claps me on the shoulder and walks out. The hallway is a straight shot to the foyer, so even though it’s dark, they don’t need a guide to the door. He opens it and allows Dr. Portia to walk through first before closing it behind him without saying a further goodbye.
I lock the dead bolt and turn off all the lights, not minding the fact that I’ll have to walk through darkness to my bedroom. Through the open doorway, the lamp seems to blaze like a sunrise against the garnet carpet. I’ll leave it on in case Scarlett wakes up in the middle of the night and wonders where she is. But if she does, I’ll be there to soothe her.
Before I slide into bed, I adjust the curtains to prevent the fabric from pulling the IV from Scarlett’s skin. Once I finish, I strip off my dress shirt, blazer, and pants in favor of a long-sleeved white T-shirt and gray sweatpants.
I wish I could help Scarlett out of her blush and gold costume and into more comfortable clothes. Unfortunately, after the trauma of the night, I’m afraid waking up in a new place with the realization that a relative stranger stripped her while she was unconscious would send her careening over the edge she nearly toppled from already.
Then again, waking up in the arms of said stranger may have the same effect.
No. Sleeping beside her is nonnegotiable. I’ve wished for months that I could hold Scarlett in my arms as I drift off to sleep. There’s no way I’m giving up the opportunity now.
I peel back the curtain on the other side of the bed and slide under the covers until I’m inches away from her. Afraid I’ll rip the IV out of her arm, I don’t dare move her, so I settle for lying on my side and watching her sleep on her back.
The lamp glows through the slim cracks between the curtains, revealing her profile to me perfectly. Her fair skin has a golden hue thanks to the dim light’s warmth, and her dark lashes fan over her cheeks above the darkened bags underneath her eyes.
Has she not been sleeping well? How did I not know this? Did I miss the signs that suggest she’s on her way into a manic state, or did something else happen?
Either way, she’ll sleep like a damn baby in my care, I’ll make sure of it. I’ve learned through my own research that for people with bipolar disorder, sleep is the best medicine to stave off a manic episode.
Hopefully, we’ve caught this one in time.
I lean into her and kiss her temple over her fine baby hairs and brush them back so they don’t tickle her face.
“Dors bien, mon amour.Tomorrow is a new day.”
Scene 12
COME IN, PETITE MUSE
Scarlett
My head… isn’t killing me.
The thought has me frowning before I even open my eyes. Something tells me I should have a huge migraine right now, but other than the extreme exhaustion weighing down every muscle, I feel… fine.
Why do I feel fine?
Visions of last night flicker across my mind like a slideshow at three times speed and it’s hard to grasp one moment over any other. All I can remember is a sweet lullaby and the soothing way the singer’s strong chest vibrated against my cheek as he sang to me. His whiskey, sugar, and leather scent envelopes me still in an intoxicating embrace. And even now, I imagine piano music playing in the background.
Wait… thereispiano music playing.
The notes are less muffled than they usually sound through the vent in my room. My eyes flutter open to take a look. They burn with fatigue, but I do my best to blink slowly until I’m finally peering out into the world.
