NICOLE DID HER BEST not to move. She hurt. The pain was dulled by the miracles of modern drug therapy, but it was still there, lurking, threatening. She ignored the heat of it and blessed whoever had invented beds that raised and lowered with the push of a button. She would just lie here for the next six or eight years and eventually she would be fine.
Someone walked into her room. She heard the footsteps and braced herself for the inevitable poking and prodding that followed. Instead, there was only silence. She opened her eyes and saw Wyatt standing next to the bed.
She felt like crap and figured she didn’t look a whole lot better. At times like this she was grateful they had only ever been friends.
“It’s going to be a hell of a scar,” he told her.
“Guys are into scars,” she whispered, her mouth dry. “I’ll have to beat them off with a stick. Not that I can ever imagine having the strength to lift a stick. Can I beat them off with a straw? I could handle a straw.”
“I’ll be there to help.”
“Lucky me.”
He touched her cheek, then pulled up a chair and sat down. “How are you feeling?”
She managed a smile. “That falls under the category of really stupid questions. Did you get the whole concept of surgery? I’ve been sliced and diced and I’m thinking of getting hooked on painkillers.”
“You won’t like rehab. You’re too cynical.”
“And crabby. Don’t forget crabby.” She pointed to the plastic cup on the tray beside her bed. “Could you hand me that?”
Wyatt picked it up and passed it to her. She took it and risked a sip. The last one had nearly made her throw up but a very mean-looking nurse had informed her she had to start drinking and peeing. Nicole didn’t see the point, but the nurse had been insistent.
She took a tiny sip and winced as a wave of nausea washed through her. At least it was less intense than the previous one. She sipped again and didn’t feel much of anything. Progress.
She handed him the water and drew in a breath. “You talk. I’ll listen. But please, don’t be funny. I don’t want to laugh. It will hurt too much.”
Wyatt leaned forward and took her fingers in his. “I went by the bakery. Everything is fine.”
“Good. They’ll be okay without me. They know how to handle the business. I don’t have to worry about anything.”
She would worry because it was her nature, but it was nice to know it wasn’t required.
“So, um, I met someone there.”
Despite the pain and the drugs, Nicole opened her eyes. There was something about the way Wyatt wouldn’t look at her. Something almost…guilty.
“A woman?”
He nodded.
She didn’t understand. What was the big deal? He’d met someone. That was a good thing. “So ask her out.”
“What?” He straightened and stared at her. “You’re not-” He leaned toward her again. “I didn’t mean I’d met someone I liked. I met someone I didn’t expect to be there.”
“Maybe it’s the surgery and everything, but you’re not making sense.”
“I met Claire.”
Claire who? But even as the question formed, she already had the answer. Claire, her sister. Claire, the perfect one, the princess. The concert pianist and soloist. World traveler. Rich bitch. Her selfish, narcissistic, shallow, cruel, awful sister.
“Not possible,” she murmured as her eyes closed. Sleep would be good, she told herself. She would sleep now and this would all go away.
“Apparently Jesse called and told her about your surgery and she flew in.”
Nicole’s eyes opened. “What?”
“She’s here to help during your recovery.”
If Nicole hadn’t been so uncomfortable and drugged, she would have laughed. “Help? She wants to help? Where the hell has she been for the past twenty-two years? Where was she while I was stuck here, raising Jesse and working in the bakery? Where was she when our mother went off to be with her and then died? Where was she when Dad died? Does she bother to show up even once? I can’t believe it. She needs to leave right now. She needs to get her designer-wearing ass out of my city and back to her cocktail party circuit or wherever it is she spent her-”
Nicole made the mistake of trying to sit up on her own. Pain ripped through her, stealing her breath and making her moan. She sank back into the bed and closed her eyes. Claire here? Because Nicole’s life wasn’t sucky enough already?
“I hate her.”
“I know.” Wyatt squeezed her fingers. “She thinks she’s helping.”
It was too much, Nicole thought. “I can’t deal with her right now. Just keep her away from me. I mean it, Wyatt. Don’t let her come to the hospital.”
“I won’t,” he promised, then kissed her forehead.
He was a good guy, she thought as sleep beckoned. One of the best. Why hadn’t she been smart enough to fall in love with him? Instead she’d fallen for Drew. Talk about a disaster. All of it. And now Claire? What was next? Locusts?
CLAIRE ARRIVED at the hospital in plenty of time to take Nicole home. The previous day she’d made the drive twice so she was familiar with the route. Driving was a little less scary, as well. As long as she stayed off the freeway, she felt almost competent. She’d also talked to Nicole’s nurse, explaining that they were family and that she, Claire, wanted to pick her up. They had given her the approximate time of release. Now Claire was here and ready to help.
She tried not to think too much about Wyatt’s claim that Nicole knew nothing about her visit and wasn’t going to be happy to see her. Despite repeated calls to Jesse’s cell phone, she’d been unable to catch her, nor had Jesse answered any of her messages. Obviously something was going on, but Claire was confident it was little more than a misunderstanding that could be easily cleared up. At least that’s what she told herself every time her stomach flipped over or her chest started to constrict.
She tightened her grip on her handbag as she exited the elevator and started down the long hallway. The signs pointed to the nurses’ station, but before she got there, she saw Nicole in a wheelchair being pushed by a nurse, with Wyatt bringing up the rear.
Emotions flooded Claire, bringing her to a stop as she just stared at the sister she hadn’t seen in years. Nicole looked good, pale, but that made sense. The woman had just had surgery. She wore a zip-up hoodie over a T-shirt, with her hair pulled back in ponytail. Claire instantly felt overdressed.
“Nicole,” she whispered, fierce joy filling her. They were together again. Finally.
“Oh, crap,” Nicole muttered. “Can I get more drugs?”
“Your sister?” the nurse asked. “You look alike. Almost like twins.”
“Fraternal and don’t make a bad situation worse by talking about it,” Nicole said.
Wyatt put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take care of this.” He walked to Claire. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”
She ignored him and Nicole’s snarky comments, instead rushing forward, then crouching in front of her sister. She wanted to hug her, but was afraid of hurting her. She settled on touching her arm and smiling into her eyes.
“You look great. How do you feel?”
Nicole stared at her. “Like I had an organ ripped out. What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“No, you’re not,” Wyatt said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“What are you doing in Seattle?” Nicole asked. “Please tell me it’s a short visit that ends in an hour.”
“I heard about your surgery, so I flew here to take care of you.”
“That’s so sweet,” the nurse said.
