Chapter 16 Adrian
ADRIAN
Sonya’s hands fist in my jersey, knuckles white against the blue fabric. She’s pissed, but her skin’s pale, and her eyes are too bright.
I don’t know why she grabbed me, because it’s not something she’s ever done before. Gotten as aggressive as this.
Is it weird that I kinda like it? Maybe too much?
I’m getting a rise out of Sonya. Quiet, frowning, always-ignores-me Sonya.
But she called me. Me.
My arms drop to the sides as I stand there and let her do whatever she wants to me. Because the storm in her eyes is a hell of a lot better than whatever was happening when I walked into her room, when she looked like she was trying to disappear into herself.
That scared the hell out of me.
But her fury?
Yeah, I’m worried and I want to fix it, but it doesn’t freak me out like her silence did.
“Why did you tell everyone I’m your wife?” Sonya forces out, demanding an answer from me again.
The truth? I wasn’t thinking clearly. At all. What was torturing my thoughts on repeat when I sped over, were the hospital beeps and code announcements I overheard on the phone. My protective instincts went into overdrive, at the thought of Sonya being hurt.
“I—” Panicked and lost it. “—thought they wouldn’t let me in otherwise,” I tell her. “Close family only.”
Her nostrils flare. “That’s not how visitation in this hospital works.”
She’s not wrong, but the volunteer guarding the emergency department door was new and taking so long to look up Sonya’s room number that I’d blurted whatever I could to get me inside. Like how I needed to find her right away—because she was my wife…
Then when I got into the room, I was hyper-focused on Sonya’s health. And when her dance instructor said being with me could help Sonya’s ballet career, I went along with it. But from the way Sonya is glaring at me right now, it’s obvious I’ve made a huge fucking mistake.
“Yeah. You’re right. Shit. Sorry. l’ll clear it up with her and Madame Kozlova and anyone else.”
Sonya lets go of my jersey, exasperated. “Oh yeah? How?”
“Easy. I’ll tell them I’m a massive idiot who only wishes he was your husband. Then I’ll donate a shitload of money to the gala without going.”
Sonya’s brows slam down. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll figure something out.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll tell everyone I dumped you.”
“That makes no sense. Why would anyone dump me?” It’s a weak joke, automatically made without thinking. I’m still trying to figure out how to make this situation better. Because it’s clear my lie has made whatever Sonya is going through worse.
“Because you can’t satisfy me in bed,” she says, bypassing me to gather her stuff.
Her tone is mean.
Still weird, maybe even weirder, that I don’t mind it at all.
She’s talking to me. Sonya has shared more words with me than ever before.
I like it. I really like it.
I don’t know what to do next, because as much as I’m happy she’s talking to me, I need to fix this for her. I’m not losing my chance to show up for her.
I drag my hands through my hair, and give her a lopsided grin, hovering close. “No, Sonya. It has to be believable. We should brainstorm something else.”
That should buy me more time to be with her. To solve this situation. I just want to help.
She whirls her back to me. “Turn around. I’m changing. Or better yet, leave.”
Ignoring that last part, I turn and slip my hands into my pockets. “Darling, I promise—”
“Nope, no more talking.”
She’s right. I accidentally let ‘darling’ slip out. I need to stop. “If you think my ego is massive, wait till you see my—”
Sonya snarls, cutting me off.
I quietly exhale to myself. Got it. No more jokes.
Soon she’s all changed and pulling herself together to leave.
I swipe the discharge papers and read them out loud even though I’m already pretty familiar with all of this stuff. “It says a headache is the most common symptom of a concussion.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out myself.”
I fold the discharge papers and tuck them into the back waistband of my pants. “Not a chance.”
She groans. “Don’t make a big deal about me calling you here…”
Grabbing the black jacket behind me that must be hers, I hold it open for her. “I won’t,” I tell her honestly. Sincerely. Quietly. “Call me anytime. I’ll always come for you.”
She yanks the jacket away and stuffs her arms through the sleeves, keeping her face averted.
“Okay,” grumbles Sonya, her voice losing some of its edge. As if what I promised moved some sort of dial inside her a bit. “Sure. Thanks. You can leave now.”
“I have to monitor you for concussion symptoms.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Darling,” I sigh, mostly at myself. I can’t stop calling her that.
Don’t say it, Adrian. I know I shouldn’t, but she’s right here. Finally right here. Her brother is too far to help. I’m the one who can. I want to be the only one who can. And if Sonya believes I’d leave her alone while she might have any kind of health issue…
So I say it.
“Get ready for the next twenty-four hours”—my grin is wide, unapologetic—“because that’s how long I’ll be glued to your side, Mrs. Hughes.”
Sonya whips around.
Her hands look like they want to aim for my neck this time.