Читать книгу Hired by Her Husband - Anne McAllister, Anne McAllister - Страница 6

OF COURSE GEORGE would get a divorce.

The only surprise as far as Sophy was concerned, was that he hadn’t got one already. But even accepting the fact, Sophy felt her knees wobble as she walked away from George’s room.

She moved automatically, going to fetch her duffel, which one of the nurses had allowed her to leave in a storage area near the nurses’ station. But when she got there, her hands were shaking so much that she nearly brought down a load of paper supplies while trying to pull the duffel’s handle out.

“Here. Let me help you.” The nurse who had let her put it there in the first place took the duffel’s handle, slid it out and pulled it easily out of the storage space. She tipped it toward Sophy, then looked at her closely. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sure. Fine. Just…tired.” Something of an understatement. “It’s all right,” Sophy murmured. “I’m fine. Truly.” She did her best visibly to pull herself together so the nurse could see she was telling the truth. She shoved her hair away from her face and tried to smile. “I just need some sleep.”

“Of course you do. It’s been a bit traumatic. You go home now and get some sleep. Don’t worry.” She patted Sophy’s arm. “We’ll take care of your husband.”

Sophy opened her mouth to correct the nurse, but what could she say? And why? Even though she wouldn’t let herself think of George that way, it was impossible to lie to herself, impossible to say that walking into his hospital room had left her unaffected.

The very moment she’d laid eyes on him this morning, the years since she’d seen him fell away as if they’d never existed.

And even worse was the realization that, however desperately she might wish it, she wasn’t over him at all.

When she’d walked into the hospital room to see George lying there, his head bandaged, his arm in a sling, his whisker-shadowed jaw bruised, his normally tanned face unnaturally pale, she felt gutted—exactly the same way she’d felt seeing her daughter fall off the jungle gym at her preschool.

The sight of Lily slipping and tumbling, then lying motionless on the ground, had shattered Sophy’s world. That same sickening breathlessness had hit her again at the sight of George in his hospital bed.

The difference was that Lilly, having landed on wood chips that cushioned her fall, had only had the wind knocked out of her. Seconds later, she’d bounced up again none the worse for wear.

But George hadn’t moved.

It was early when she’d arrived, straight from the airport, still stiff and groggy from a sleepless night on the plane. He should have been asleep. But it looked like such an unnatural sleep. And Sophy had stopped dead in the doorway, clutching the doorjamb as she stood watching him never flutter so much as an eyelash. She had been too far away to see the rise and fall of his chest.

She must have looked stricken because the nurse had said, “Watch the monitor.” Its squiggly line was moving up and down jerkily. But at least it proved he was breathing because absolutely nothing else did.

“You can wake him if you want,” this same nurse had said.

But Sophy had shaken her head. If George wasn’t dead yet, the sight of her first thing when he opened his eyes might very well do it for him.

“No. Let him sleep,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll just wait.”

“If he’s not awake in an hour, I’ll be back. We have to wake him regularly to see how he responds and if he remembers everything.”

No doubt about his memory, Sophy thought grimly now.

She turned to the nurse. “He thinks he’s going to leave today, to go to work. The doctor wouldn’t really let him…”

The nurse smiled. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. They’ll be watching him today and probably tomorrow. You should go home now and get some rest. Come back this afternoon. Chances are he’ll be much brighter by then.” She gave Sophy one more encouraging smile, then checked her beeper and hurried down the hall.

Sophy stood there with her overnight bag and her briefcase and realized she didn’t have a home to go to.

Home was three thousand miles away.

On the other hand, why shouldn’t she go home? What was keeping her here? George had clearly dismissed her. As far as he was concerned, she needn’t have bothered to come in the first place.

And she certainly wasn’t going to come back this afternoon. She’d done her duty. “Payback,” he’d called it.

And he’d rejected it. Consider it paid, he’d said.

That was fine with her. Shooting one last glance toward his room, she turned and wheeled her overnight bag down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button and waited, trying to keep her eyes open and stifle a yawn.

She was in the midst of the latter when the elevator door opened. There were several people in it, but only one, a young, dark-haired, very pregnant woman, swept out, then stopped dead and stared at her.

“Sophy?”

Sophy blinked, startled. “Tallie?”

“Oh, my God, it is you!” And before Sophy could do more than close her gaping mouth, George’s sister, Tallie, swept her into a fierce delighted hug. “You’ve come back!”

“Well, I—” But whatever protest she might have made was muffled by the enthusiastic warmth of Tallie’s embrace. And Sophy couldn’t do much more than hug her back. It was no hardship in any case. She’d always adored George’s sister. Losing the right to count Tallie as her sister-in-law had been one of the real pains of the end of her marriage.

Before she could say anything, a firm thump against her midsection had Sophy jumping back. “Was that the baby?” She looked at Tallie, wide-eyed.

Tallie laughed. “Yes. My girl likes her space.” She rubbed her burgeoning belly affectionately. “This one’s a girl. But more about her later. It’s so good to see you.” She gave Sophy another fierce hug, but was careful to move back before the baby kicked again. “George should get run over by trucks more often.”

“No.” Even for the pleasure of seeing Tallie again, she didn’t want that.

“Well, not really.” Tallie laughed with a shake of her head. “But if it brings you home—” She beamed at Sophy.

“I’m not ‘home,’” Sophy said quickly. “I’m just…here. For the moment. I got a call from the doctor last night. When George was unconscious they needed his next of kin’s permission for any medical procedures, and because we’re not officially divorced—yet—that was me. And so—” she shrugged “—I came.”

“Of course you did,” Tallie said with blithe confidence. “Besides, it’s about time. How is he?” Her smile faded a bit and she looked concerned. “He wouldn’t let me come see him last night.”

“He looks like he’s been hit by a truck,” Sophy said. If Tallie hadn’t seen him yet, Sophy wanted to prepare her. “Seriously. He’s pretty battered. But coherent,” she added when Tallie’s expression turned worried.

“He flat-out refused to let us come last night. Well, there’s only Elias and me around. Mom and Dad are in Santorini. And none of the boys—” her other brothers, Theo, Demetrios and Yiannis, she meant “—are here. So he was safe. He probably wouldn’t have contacted me at all if he hadn’t needed someone to take care of Gunnar.”

“Gunnar?”

“His dog.”

George had a dog? That was a surprise. “Did he rescue it?” Sophy asked.

Tallie frowned. “I don’t think so. I think he got him as a puppy. Why?”

Sophy shook her head. “Never mind. I was just—never mind.” She could hardly say, Because George rescues things. Tallie wouldn’t understand.

George’s sister shoved a strand of hair away from her face. “He said to go to his place and feed Gunnar, put him out and absolutely don’t come to the hospital. He didn’t need me hovering.” She shook her head.

“George is an idiot,” she went on with long-suffering sisterly fondness. “As if I would hover. Well, I will. But at least I waited until this morning. I’ll go annoy him for a few minutes, just to let him know he can’t push me around. And because the rest of the family will fuss and worry if someone hasn’t set eyes on him in the flesh. But now you’ve come, you take the keys.” She dug in the pocket of her maternity pants and thrust a set of keys into Sophy’s hand.

“Me?” Immediately Sophy tried to hand them back. “They’re not mine,” she protested. “I can’t take George’s keys!”

“Why not? Because you and George are separated? Big deal.”

“We’re not separated! We’re divorcing. I thought we already were,” Sophy said. “Divorced,” she clarified.

“But you’re not? Good. Easier to work things out,” Tallie said with the confidence of someone who had done just that and was living happily ever after. “Elias and I—”

“Were not married when you went your own ways,” Sophy said firmly. “It is not the same thing. And I can’t take George’s keys.” She tried to hand them back again, but a yawn caught her by surprise and so she ended up covering her mouth instead.

“You’re exhausted,” Tallie said. “How long have you been here?”

“Not that long. A couple of hours. I got into LaGuardia before dawn.”

“You took a red-eye? Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Not really,” Sophy admitted. “But I’m hoping I will on the way home.”

Tallie looked appalled. “On the way home? What? You’re going home now?”

Sophy shrugged. “He doesn’t need me here. Or want me here. He made that quite clear.”

Tallie snorted dismissively. “What does he know? Besides, it doesn’t matter if he needs you or wants you. I do.”

“You? What do you mean?”

“You, my dear Sophy, are going to save my life,” Tallie told her, taking her by the arm and steering her to a pair of chairs where they could sit.

“Don’t you want to see George?” Sophy said hopefully.

“In a minute. First I want to get you on your way.” The CEO Tallie had once been came through loud and clear. “I need your help.”

“What sort of help?”

“George, bless his heart, thinks that I can simply drop my life and take over the running of his. And admittedly, there might have been a time I could have done it,” Tallie said with a grin. “But that time is not now. Not with three little boys, a baby due in three weeks, a homemade bakery business that has orders up the wazoo, orders I need to get taken care of before the arrival of my beautiful baby girl—” Tallie rubbed her belly again “—not to mention a husband who, while tolerant, does not consider sharing me with a dog for more than one night to be the best allocation of my time.

“Besides,” she went on before Sophy could say a word, “he has to go to Mystic for a boat launch this afternoon. He took the kids to school, but I need to be home to get Nick and Garrett from kindergarten and Digger from preschool. I was planning to bake today before I had to go get them. And I’d take Gunnar home but he doesn’t get along with the rabbit, er, actually vice versa. So—” she took a breath and gave Sophy a bright, hopeful smile “—what do you say? Will you save me? Please?”

Sophy was even more exhausted just thinking about it. She swallowed another yawn.

“And you can sleep while you’re there,” Tallie said triumphantly.

“George won’t like it.”

“Who’s telling George?” Tallie raised both brows.

Not me, Sophy thought. She should say no. It was the sane, safe, sensible thing to do. The less she had to do with George or any of his family before the divorce was final, the less likely she was to be hurt again.

But life, as she well knew, wasn’t about protecting yourself. It was about doing what needed to be done. “Payback” wasn’t always what you thought it would be. It didn’t mean you had a right not to do it.

“All right,” she said resignedly. “I’ll do it. But as soon as George can come home, I’m leaving.”

“Of course,” Tallie said, all grateful smiles. “Absolutely.”

Sophy hadn’t let herself think about where George might be living ever since he’d walked out of her life.

If she’d wanted to guess, she’d have picked some sterile but extremely functional apartment where he’d be called upon to do as little interaction with his environment as possible.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

George had a brownstone on the Upper West Side. Not just an efficient studio in a brownstone or even a complete floor-through apartment. George owned the whole five-story building.

And while most of the brownstones in the neighborhood had long since been subdivided into flats, George’s had not.

“When he came home he said he wanted a house,” Tallie told her. “And he got one.”

He had indeed. And what a one it was.

Sophy stopped on the sidewalk in front of the wide stoop and stared openmouthed at the elegant well-maintained facade. It had big bay windows on the two floors above the garden entrance, and two more floors above that with three identical tall narrow arched windows looking south across the tree-lined street at a row of similar brownstones.

It had the warm, tasteful, elegant yet friendly look that the best well-kept brownstones had. And to Sophy, whose earliest memories of home were the days spent in her grandparents’ brownstone in Brooklyn, it fairly shouted the word home.

It was exactly the sort of family home she’d always dreamed of. She’d babbled on about it to George in the early days of their marriage. He’d been preoccupied with work, of course. Not listening. At least she hadn’t thought he was listening…

No, of course he hadn’t been. It was coincidence.

All the same it wasn’t helpful. Not helpful at all.

At least, she thought as she climbed the steps, the sound of a ferocious dog barking his head off on the other side of the front door belied any homey feelings that threatened to overtake her.

So that was Gunnar.

He sounded as if he wanted to have her for brunch.

“He’s lovely,” Tallie had said. “Adores George.”

But apparently he wasn’t keen on rabbits—except perhaps for meals—and the jury was still out on what he thought of her.

Good thing she liked dogs, Sophy thought, fitting the key in the lock and putting on her most upbeat, confident demeanor. She had no idea if it would convince Gunnar. She just hoped she convinced herself long enough to make his acquaintance.

“Hey, Gunnar. Hey, buddy,” she said as she cautiously opened the door.

The dog stopped barking and simply looked at her quizzically. He was a good-size dog, all black with medium-length hair and some feathering.

“A flat-coated retriever,” Tallie had told her, and when Sophy looked blank, she’d elucidated. “Think of a lean, wiry black golden retriever—with Opinions. Capital O Opinions.” Gunnar’s opinion of her was apparently being formed even as she talked to him.

“I hope you like me,” Sophy said to him. She’d at least had the wisdom to stop at a pet shop on her way down Broadway, where she’d bought some dog treats. Now she offered one to the dog.

In her experience, most dogs took treats eagerly and without question. Gunnar took his, too. But instead of grabbing it, he accepted it delicately from her fingers, then carried it over to the rug by the fireplace where he lay down and nosed it for a few moments before consuming it.

She dragged her bag in over the threshold and shut the door behind her, then turned to survey Gunnar’s—and George’s—domain.

It was as impressive inside as it was out. From the mahogany-paneled entry she could see into the dining room where Gunnar was finishing his dog treat, up an equally beautiful mahogany staircase to the second floor and down a hallway to the back where a glimpse of a sofa told her she would find the living room.

But before she could go look, Gunnar came back and poked her with his nose, then looked up hopefully. “Treats are the way to your heart?” she said to him—and was surprised when he replied.

He didn’t bark. He didn’t growl. He just sort of—talked—made some sort of noise that had her looking at him in astonishment. So he poked her again.

“Right,” she said. “Yes. Of course.” And she fetched another treat out of the bag she’d bought. He accepted it with the same gravity with which he’d accepted the first one. But he didn’t eat it. He simply carried it down the hall.

Sophy followed. She thought he was going to take it into the living room, which indeed was at the end of the hall. But instead Gunnar turned and went down the stairs. He obviously knew better than she did what she was supposed to be doing and was showing her where to go to open the door to the garden.

She let Gunnar out into the back garden with its cedar deck and table and chairs and the bucket of tennis balls that George must toss for Gunnar. Even though it was small and utilitarian, it was still far more appealing than the parking lot behind her apartment in California. She left Gunnar there and went back inside because she was more curious about George’s office.

What would have been billed “the garden apartment” in a split-up brownstone, obviously served as George’s office. One big room contained a wide oak desk, a sleek state-of-the-art computer with what was probably the biggest computer screen she’d ever seen. There were file cabinets, a worktable and shelf after shelf of scientific books. There were papers in neat stacks on the desk and worktable, and a few spread out that were filled with equations in George’s spiky but very legible handwriting. When they’d been together, he had made out shopping lists in the same precise way.

Feeling a bit like a voyeur, though goodness knew she couldn’t understand any of whatever he was working on, Sophy deliberately went back out into the garden and threw some tennis balls for Gunnar.

She made a friend for life. He was tireless. She was even more exhausted by the time she said, “Last one,” and threw it across the small yard. Gunnar caught it on the rebound from the wall and trotted back to look at her hopefully. “Later,” she promised him.

She could have sworn he sighed. But obediently he followed her back into the house, up the stairs and on up the next flight where there was a spacious yet homey family room that looked decidedly lived in—right down to the toys in one corner.

Toys?

Surprised, Sophy looked closer. Yes, there were toys. Blocks, LEGOs, Lincoln Logs and a fleet of scratched and dented Matchbox cars. Boy toys, Sophy thought. But it was clear that Tallie’s boys were welcome at Uncle George’s. Or did George have a lady friend with children? Not that she cared.

The family room was on the back of the house, just above the living room. Sophy found it cozy and friendly, drawing her in. There were books on the shelves, not only scientific tomes, but also popular mysteries and sailing magazines. She picked them up, noting that they weren’t pristine. They had obviously been read.

She scanned the shelves curiously, then spotted a photo album as well. She opened it before she could think twice—and was quite suddenly confronted by memories that seemed almost like a blow to the heart.

The album was full of pictures from the reception after their wedding. Not the more formal portraits, but lots of casual family ones. She and George laughing as they fed each other cake. She and George dancing on the deck of his parents’ home. She and George surrounded by his whole family, all of them smiling and happy.

Numbly she turned the pages. After the ones from the reception, there were others of the two of them. On the beach. In a small cozy house before a fire.

Sophy’s throat tightened at the sight. At the memories of their honeymoon.

Well, it hadn’t been a honeymoon—not really. There hadn’t been time to plan one because the wedding had been so hastily arranged and George couldn’t take time off work.

All they’d had was a weekend in a tiny groundskeeper’s cottage behind one of the Hamptons mansions near his parents’ home by the sea.

But for all that it had been impromptu, it had been memorable. They had, she’d thought, forged a bond that weekend. They’d talked. They’d laughed. They’d cooked together, swum together, walked on the beach together. They’d slept together in the same bed—though they hadn’t made love.

Her pregnancy was too far along for that.

Still, for all they’d had a less than orthodox beginning, she’d dared to hope, to believe…

Now she shut the album and stuck it back on the shelf. She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to remember the pain of dashed hopes, of lost love.

No, she corrected herself. It hadn’t ever been love—not really. Not to George.

Deliberately she turned away. “Come on, Gunnar,” she said to the dog. “Let’s take a look at the guest room.”

That’s the most she was in George’s house, in his life. A guest. She needed to remember that.

“I didn’t change the sheets,” Tallie had apologized. “I figured I’d either be back there tonight or George would be home. There are other rooms up above. There’s a room for the boys up there, but George probably hasn’t changed the sheets since the last time they were there. And that’s where George’s room is, of course.”

Sophy felt enough like Goldilocks eavesdropping further in a house where she didn’t belong. The last place she wanted to look at was George’s bedroom.

George’s bed. She didn’t want to remember the nights she’d spent sharing a bed with George. Making love with George…

“I’ll just take the room where you were,” she’d told Tallie. “It will be fine.”

It was Spartan—but perfectly adequate. It had a bed, sheets, a blanket and two pillows. What more could she ask?

Sophy kicked off her shoes and pulled off her jacket, already heading for the bed when she remembered that she needed to get on the computer and put through a video call to Natalie and Lily.

She opened her laptop on the bed and was glad she often used the video program to help out and advise the “wives” in the field who worked for her and Natalie. So she was quickly up and running, and felt an instant pang of homesickness when the call went through and she could see Lily at home with Natalie in her living room.

“Mama?” Lily demanded, sticking her face right up against Natalie’s laptop. “Are you in the computer?”

Sophy laughed. “No, darling. I’m in New York. I had to come here last night, just for a couple of days. I’ll be home soon. Are you being good for Auntie Nat?”

“’Course I am,” Lily said. “I’m helping.”

“Great.” Though whether Natalie would think the help of a four-year-old was such a blessing, Sophy wasn’t sure. “What are you going to do today?”

The three-hour time difference meant that Natalie and Lily were just getting started on their day. But clearly Natalie had given some thought to what they would do. Lily rattled off an entire list of things that included “after lunch going to the beach with Uncle Christo,” undoubtedly so Natalie could get some real work done.

“Is that a dog?” Lily demanded, abruptly breaking off her recitation.

“Dog?” Sophy was confused, then realized that Lily wasn’t just seeing her. Her daughter could see at least a part of the bedroom behind her. And Gunnar was standing by the bed looking equally curiously at the computer screen.

“Um, yes,” Sophy said. “That’s Gunnar.”

“He’s big,” Lily said solemnly. “An’ really, really black. Would he like me?”

“Oh, I think so,” Natalie said. Gunnar, for all his ferocious barking while she was on the doorstep, had been an absolute gentleman since she’d crossed the threshold. He actually seemed to be looking at Lily.

“Hi, Gunnar,” she said.

He looked quizzical and tentatively wagged his tail.

“He likes me!” Lily crowed.

“Who likes you?” Natalie reappeared and bent down to peer into the screen, eyes widening when she spotted the dog. “Who’s that? Where’d he come from? Where are you?” she shot out the questions rapid-fire.

“That’s Gunnar. He lives here.”

“Here where?” Natalie demanded.

“At George’s,” Sophy said reluctantly.

“At Daddy’s?” Lily demanded, sticking her face close to the screen to peer around the room eagerly. “Are you at Daddy’s?”

“Yes, but—”

“Where is he?”

“Yes, where is Daddy?” Natalie demanded, frowning her concern.

Sophy heard the archness in Natalie’s tone. “He’s in the hospital.” She tried to sound calm and matter-of-fact.

“Is Daddy okay?” Lily asked. “He’s okay, isn’t he, Mommy?”

“He will be,” Sophy assured her.

“So what are you doing at his place?” Natalie wanted to know.

“Feeding his dog. And taking a nap. In the guest room,” she added in case Natalie had other ideas.

Fortunately whatever ideas Natalie had she wasn’t sharing them in front of Lily. She pressed her lips together, then shrugged and said, “Well, get some sleep then.”

“I will. I just wanted to see Lily. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, Mommy,” Lily responded. “An’ Daddy. An’ Gunnar, too.” She put her hand on the computer screen, as if she could reach out and pet him. Then she brought Chloe’s face up to the screen and pointed out Gunnar to her. “He’s your friend, Chloe,” she told her stuffed dog. “An’ he’s mine, too. Oh, Uncle Christo’s here. ’Bye, Mommy. ’Bye, Gunnar. See you later.” And Lily skipped off, dragging Chloe away by a paw, leaving Sophy staring at the empty chair in the kitchen.

“Sorry about that.” Natalie suddenly appeared. “Christo just came in bringing fresh cinnamon rolls from the bakery.”

“Ah, well. A girl’s got to have her priorities. Give her a hug for me.”

“Of course.” There was a pause. Then Natalie said, “I didn’t realize Lily was quite so gung ho about George. She doesn’t know him.”

“She’s fixated. All families have mommies and daddies. Or they’re supposed to. We don’t. She wanted to know why. Then she wanted to know everything about him.”

“You should have told her about Ari. He’s her father.”

“No.” Sophy didn’t accept that. “He sired her. He would never have been there for her. George was.”

“Briefly.”

“Yes, well—” But Sophy didn’t want to get into that. She had never told Natalie all the reasons for the breakup of their marriage. It was personal. “Anyway, she asked. I told her. She’s curious. It’s the lure of the unknown.”

Natalie looked doubtful. “What about the lure for you?”

“I’m fine,” Sophy said firmly. “Besides, it’s only one afternoon. I’m only putting the dog out—and grabbing a few hours’ shut-eye. George isn’t here. His sister asked me. I’m doing her a favor.”

“If you say so,” Natalie said doubtfully.

“I do.”

“Right.” Natalie shrugged, still looking concerned. “Be careful, Soph’.”

“I’m being careful,” Sophy replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later, let you know what flight I’ll be on.”

“So you’re coming soon?”

“Tonight. There’s nothing to stay for.”

Natalie smiled. “Great.”

Sophy shut down the computer and put it on the nightstand by the bed. Then she finished undressing down to her underwear, drew back the covers and slid into the bed. It was heaven. And what she’d told Natalie was true: she was being careful. Very careful.

She closed her eyes and didn’t let herself think about the photos in the album. She didn’t let herself remember those months of hope and joy. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she was in George’s house, that she could go up one more flight of stairs and lie in George’s bed.

She didn’t want the memories of loving him—of making love with him. She didn’t want the pain.

The bed dipped suddenly. Her eyes snapped open to see Gunnar had leapt lightly onto the foot of the bed. He stood peering down at her.

She reached up and fondled his velvety soft ears, then scratched lightly behind them. He arched his back, almost like a cat. Then he turned in a circle and lay down next to her, so close that she could feel the press of his body through the covers.

She didn’t know if he was supposed to be on the bed or not. She didn’t care. The solid warmth of his body was comforting, reassuring. Even if he was George’s dog, she liked him. She told him so.

Gunnar twitched his ear.

Sophy smiled, gave him a pat, Then shut her eyes and very carefully and resolutely did not let herself think about George. She slept.

And dreamed about him instead.

George wanted out.

Now. This afternoon.

“You can’t keep me here,” he told Sam, who was standing beside George’s bed saying he needed to do exactly that.

Sam wasn’t listening. He knew George. They’d ridden bikes together, climbed trees together and played lacrosse together. They’d even got drunk together and pounded on each other a few times—as friends do. George hadn’t decided yet whether it was a stroke of good or bad luck that Sam had been the neurologist on duty when they brought him in last night.

He was leaning toward the latter right now as Sam was standing there with a stethoscope, looking grimly official.

“Well, no. I can’t ground you. Or tie you to the bed,” Sam agreed drily. “I did think that perhaps I could appeal to your adult common sense, but if that’s a problem…”

George bared his teeth. It made his head hurt like hell. But then so did everything else he’d done today, which was pretty much nothing. He’d tried to read and couldn’t focus. He’d tried to write and couldn’t think. He’d tried to get up and walk around, but when he did, he’d barely made it back to the bed without throwing up. If they’d let him go home, he could at least get some sleep.

“It would be different if you didn’t live alone,” Sam was saying. “Having someone who can keep an eye on you would make it more feasible.”

“Babysit me, you mean,” George grunted.

Sam grinned. “If the shoe fits…”

George glared. Sam just raised his brows, shrugged and looked back implacably.

Scowling, George folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I promise I’ll call if I think it’s worse.”

“No,” Sam said.

“I have work, a dog, a life—”

“A life?” Sam snorted at that. “I don’t think so. You teach physics, for heaven’s sake!”

It wasn’t all he’d ever done, but George didn’t go there. He just stared stonily at Sam and waited for him to give in.

“No,” Sam said. “Just because I broke your nose in sixth grade doesn’t mean I’m going to surrender my obligation as a doctor to give you my honest medical opinion.”

“The hell you did! I broke your nose!”

Sam laughed. “Well, at least your memory’s not totally shot.” He lifted a hand and rubbed it ruefully across the bump in his nose. “At least I gave you the black eye.”

“It wasn’t that black.”

“Pretty damn,” Sam said. “Anyway, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. We need to make sure the bleeding has stopped.” He nodded toward George’s head.

But George didn’t notice. His attention had been grabbed by the glimpse of someone just beyond the door. “Sophy?”

Was he seeing things? She’d gone, hadn’t she? Done her “duty” and hightailed it back to California?

But just as he thought it, she poked her head around the doorjamb. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I thought Tallie might have come back.”

Tallie? George started to shake his head, then thought better of it. “No. She went to get the boys from school. You talked to Tallie?”

Tallie certainly hadn’t mentioned it. His sister had breezed in this morning to see how he was doing. Well, breeze might not have been the right word. Waddle, maybe. She’d looked as if she was going to have her baby any minute. He hadn’t seen her in a month, and she hadn’t been nearly that big last time he had. He felt a little guilty calling her last night and asking her to take care of the dog.