Page 12 of My Destiny
“Look to your left, follow the outer wall of the building.” When I hear her gasp, I know my suspicions are correct.
“Oh my god, is that his secretary? Shit, I think it is. Wasn’t he here with his wife tonight?”
“His secretary?”
“Yes. Jesus, is he giving her a tonsillectomy with his tongue? Get a room you two,” she mumbles to herself. Although there’s nothing funny about this situation, her observation makes me chuckle. One of the things I love about her is her wit and lack of a filter, although it’s gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion. “I’m sure when I did the seating plan, he was seated at your table with his wife.”
“He was. That’s who I’m at the hospital with.” The rage I feel in this moment is indescribable. I have a strict ‘No fraternising with staff policy.’It not only applies to me, but to all of my employees. It’s one of the clauses in their employment agreement, but I know my anger runs far deeper than that. This situation brings back all those ill feelings from my past. Emotions I buried many years ago.
“What a snake. His poor wife.” My sentiments exactly. “What happened to her?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you want me to go over there and tell him his wife’s in hospital? Although under the circumstances, I’m not sure he’s going to care.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll stay here until I know she’s going to be okay.”
“Keep me updated.”
“I will, Claire. Thanks.”
“Oh, and Mr. Cavanagh.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll cover for you here.”
“Thank you.”
I was tossing up whether to stay or leave, but that phone call just confirmed I’m not going anywhere, for the interim anyway. I couldn’t possibly leave her here to face this all on her own.
“I’m going to hang around for a bit,” I tell Chris. “You may as well head home.”
“I’m happy to stay if you want the company.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. “But it could be hours before I know anything. I’ll just get a cab home.”
“Okay. I’ll head out, but I’ll keep my phone close by. If you need me, or a lift, just call.”
“Thank you.”
I’m not sure how long I’ve been waiting to hear news on Brooke’s condition, but it’s been a while—a few hours, at the very least.
I’ve nodded off occasionally, despite my concerns.It’s been a long fucking day.
“Mr. Johnston,” someone says, nudging my leg. Sitting up straight in my seat, I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to come and see you.” I don’t bother correcting him when he calls me by the wrong name. The doctor thinking I’m her husband is probably the only way I’m going to get any information on her condition. “I’m Dr. Goldstein. I’m the doctor taking care of your wife.”
I clear my throat before I speak. “How is she, doc?”
“She’s doing well, considering.” I feel instant relief when he says that. “Come, we can have a chat in one of the private rooms if you like.”
“That would be great.”
Standing, I look down at my watch and see it’s just after midnight. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers, I follow him back through the doors to the emergency rooms, and halfway down the corridor. He stops at a doorway and gestures for me to enter. The room seems sterile and sparse of furniture with only a small sofa and coffee table inside.
“Sit.” I do as he asks. He takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table opposite me before speaking again. He’s still dressed in scrubs. “First and foremost, I want to assure you that your wife is doing okay. It was touch and go for a while, but I’m confident she’ll make a full recovery.”
“Did you find out what was causing the bleeding?”
