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Taylor

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Days Later

I smile, wrapping up my shift and feeling lighter, as always.

The nurses think I bring joy to the children when I come to play, but the truth is the opposite. Since waking up from the coma, I haven’t felt this happy.

“I wish I had even a tenth of your talent,” a very beautiful blonde says as she approaches.

I extend my hand to greet her. I’ve never seen her here before, and I’m almost certain she doesn’t work at the hospital. “Nice to meet you, I’m Taylor Jarvis.”

“Yes, the woman with the magic hands. I already knew about you. I’m Brooklyn Foster. I know you started working here at William’s invitation.”

Ah, Brooklyn. I’ve heard of her. The staff calls her the first lady of one of the hospital’s partners, Athanasios.

The way she says William’s name makes me quickly realize that she knows about us, which means she must have heard it from Athanasios, who, in turn, is friends with my new . . . boss? I don’t have a label for him.

Not even on my first day at work did I see him. I don’t know if he’s avoiding me or if he just works a lot, but the fact is, we haven’t even bumped into each other in the hallway. And today is already the third time I’ve come to play for the children.

Our only contact after the dinner at his house was a text message the next day, where he gave me instructions on who to report to when I arrived at the hospital.

As promised, there was a driver waiting for me outside Jackie’s building, with a security car following behind. No one can accuse him of not taking his promises seriously. If just the possibility of pregnancy makes him this cautious, then if I really am pregnant, I’ll probably be protected with the same level of obsession as a member of the royal family.

“I don’t know if I have magic hands, but I love playing and I’m really enjoying the job.”

“Would you like to grab a coffee?”

“Sure.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, she has already told me a good part of her life story.

And what a story.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she says.

“Are you always this open with strangers?”

“No, but Athanasios told me you were in a coma. Now you know that I was too. More than anyone, I understand how hard it is to come back.”

“It’s not that hard. Maybe in my case, it would’ve been better if I had stayed that way forever.”

“Why?”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“What?”

“Do you have time?”

“I do.”

I tell her everything, even the part about people thinking I was William’s father’s mistress.

“But you don’t think you were?”

“I know I wasn’t, Brooklyn. Aside from the fact that I felt absolutely nothing for that man during the year we spent together, my best friend, Jackie, said I was in love with . . .” I trail off. “Swear to God you won’t tell Athanasios.”

“I won’t, Taylor. You have my word.”

“Jackie said I was in love with William. If that’s true, how could I have been with his father?”

“Yeah, that really doesn’t make any sense. So, you two aren’t doing well?”

I spin the empty espresso cup in my hands. “He hates me, despises me, or both.”

“Then what are you doing here? Sorry, but why would someone who hates you hire you?”

I shrug. “Who knows? Maybe to keep an eye on me. To make sure I don’t ruin another family.”

“Or because he can’t let you go.”

“He wants me, but as he himself said, it’s just physical. That’s why he kept seeing models and actresses.”

“I haven’t known him that long, Taylor, but I can tell you I’ve never seen him with anyone.”

“But what about the magazines? There are so many photos of him over the past year with gorgeous women.”

“Speaking from experience, let me give you some advice: don’t believe everything you see in celebrity gossip magazines. A lot of these women just latch onto guys at parties to get headlines. Do you know what the three of them are called?”

“No.”

“The Gods in White. They’re gorgeous and filthy rich. Women throw themselves at them like flies to honey.”

“How do you deal with that?”

“I have a sweet face but a terrible temper. Athanasios wouldn’t dare try anything with some tramp.”

I laugh, and she glances at the time.

“I have to go now, Taylor, but I’d love for you to come have lunch with our family. It’s pretty big these days since my sister married a Greek guy with three brothers. We always get together on Sundays.”

“I’d love to, but I don’t want to be a bother. William doesn’t like me, and since your fiancé is his friend, he probably doesn’t like me either.”

“I like you, and no one will treat you badly in my presence. Come. We’re loud and a little crazy, but very close.”

She pauses for a few seconds, as if there’s something else she wants to say.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Athanasios is the best neurosurgeon in the world. He could confirm whether you really have amnesia. That would put an end to all of William’s doubts. From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem to believe your memory loss is real.”

“Yes, he thinks I’m lying. And call me foolish, but I won’t take your suggestion. William needs to believe me, not just accept the truth once his partner examines me and tells him I don’t remember the past. Besides, even if he does believe I have amnesia, he might still think it changes nothing—that I really was his father’s mistress.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be fine.”

We exchange phone numbers and say our goodbyes, planning to meet in two weeks.

She hugs me, kisses my cheek, and leaves.

As I walk toward the exit, I text Jackie to let her know I’m heading to the bookstore.

I saw a brand-new Jane Austen collection among the belongings Jackie kept for me and decided to go look for more books. I need to clear my head, and I don’t feel like going out at night yet, despite my friend inviting me several times.

I’m almost at the hospital parking lot, where I know the driver is waiting for me, when I hear William’s voice calling my name.

Hating the way my heart races, I turn around cautiously, holding the violin case as if it’s a protective shield. “Hi, William.”

He looks insanely handsome. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a white coat, and it’s easy to understand the conversation I overheard in the bathroom the other day—the nurses were talking about how hot he is.

I can’t even disagree, though at the time, I was burning with jealousy.

“Are you leaving?” His arms are crossed over his chest, which only highlights every delicious muscle.

“Yes,” I answer quickly, looking away.

“I heard the kids love your performances.”

I give him an awkward, sad smile. Somehow, the casual way he’s acting hurts more than being the target of his anger. “I have to go. Have a good evening.”

“Where to?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s none of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business, for now.”

I notice a few staff members passing by, curiously observing our interaction. “We shouldn’t be talking here. People are watching.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“To a bookstore?”

He looks surprised. Where did he think I was going? To meet someone? A man? “Mmhmm.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

“I’m inviting myself.”

“Why?”

“I need to buy a book too.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Don’t be childish.”

“I’m not. I just have plans afterward.”

“What plans?” he asks, suspicious, which annoys me.

I should tell him to mind his own damn business—but I’m weak when it comes to him. “Fine. But don’t laugh at my book choices.”

“What kind do you like?”

“I don’t remember. But I have a game in mind—when I stop in front of one that makes my heart race, that’s the one I’ll take.”