Page 25 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

When they weren’t in the public eye, they both liked reading, listening to music, and even watching Netflix. It all worked. They weren’t living together or married, but still, it felt real as anything else Goldie had been involved in.

And she needed him now, as she faced her surgery. She was scared. If he would just be there at the hospital to talk with her beforehand, that would be so nice. Shouldn’t he want to if he cared about her?

“Still, it’s not run of the mill to me.”

“I hate hospitals, you know that. It reminds me of death and my dad and all that.”

Drake’s family life was a wreck. She did know that.

And he was right. There would be a higher chance of the press finding out about her hysterectomy if Drake was there.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Just be there after? Maybe when I wake up?”

“Ah, yes, okay. I’ll have them smuggle me in.”

“Also, smuggle in coffee. I’m going to be going on two days without it. I think my head might explode.”

It was early. Goldie wanted to go in before anyone was awake. That, too, would help her keep her secret. Drake went back to sleep. It was Hollis who drove Goldie to the hospital.

She checked in alone. She was in surgery prep alone. And she felt like she might be having a panic attack before the surgery, alone.

The anesthesiologist came in to talk to her beforehand.

The doctor was young and cool and looked like she could be in Burgundy Four, too. She had nearly as many tats as Drake.

“I just want to check in. You’re okay?”

“I’m freaking the heck out.”

“You know what, we can up your medication a bit. That nervousness will go away in a second.”

“Yes, please. Also, coffee, I am going to wake up from this needed caffeine. Like really need it. I’m addicted.”

“I’ll put it in your chart, no worries, it’ll be bedside, or I’ll zing a little caffeine in your I.V.” The doctor winked.

It helped. She was so nice. “My boyfriend is going to be in the recovery room, so he knows, too.”

“Sounds like a plan. We gotchu, Ms. Hayes.”

“Thanks, call me Goldie.”

The meds were kicking in. Her worries were evaporating, along with the ability to keep her eyes open.

She remembered being wheeled down a hall. She remembered saying hello to her doctor. And that was it. That was all.

Hours later, she was still in the bed, alone. She was struggling to open her eyes.

Her head hurt. Was she in for brain surgery?

There was no one to ask. Nurses bustled around, but no one stopped.

She closed her eyes again, but the pain in her head was getting stronger.

“Can someone…?”

Goldie felt like she was in a dream. Inside she was screaming, but all she could manage was a week croaking sound.

Finally, a nurse approached the bed. “Ms. Hayes, hello. You’re coming out of it. Wonderful.”

“I need caffeine.”

“Yes, here, let me pour you a cup of coffee.”

She drank a sip. It dribbled down the front of her gown. She tried again. This time with a modicum of success.

“Where’s Drake? Can he come in now?”

“Uh, who?”

“My boyfriend.”

The nurse left to check.

Goldie took another sip of coffee. She wanted to sit up. Could she sit up?

The nurse returned.

“There’s no one in the waiting room. But if you like, I can call someone for you.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Can I sit up?”

“Give it a little time, maybe in about half an hour. The doctor will swing by in a bit.”

“Uh, nurse, am I okay?”

“You’re fine, flying colors.”

“Thank you.”

The nurse left to attend to other patients. Slowly, Goldie got less groggy. The doctor talked to her. She could leave today. As planned.

Drake never showed.

She’d thought he would drive her home.

A nurse helped her get dressed. Put her in the wheelchair. She called Scott Ozock. Of course, he didn’t answer. His assistant did, and the assistant called for a car for her.

If Mitchell was still alive, he’d have come. Her mom was too old now to travel cross country, and her dad had been gone for over a decade. She was sitting in a wheelchair in the lobby, alone. She had a hat and sunglasses on. No one would recognize her, just like Scott Ozock advised.

“Don’t be seen. Don’t tell anyone you have fibroids. That’s not sexy.”

No, it was not sexy in the least bit.

She’d done everything they’d told her to get where she was. She’d sacrificed a lot to be here. But right now, here, she was alone, with five incisions from a robot arm and a stranger taking her home to her mansion in the hills.

Where was Drake?

Eventually, she was home, in her own bed. She had pain meds. That was something.

Drake showed up the next day. She needed a shower. But she was afraid to stand by herself.

“Can you help me?”

Drake looked at her with an expression she didn’t understand at first. And then it dawned on her. He was disgusted. Or maybe it was fear.

“Forget it. Can you just leave?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there. Just leave.”

“Medical stuff, you know I can’t—”

“—Whatever.”

“I’m sorry, I know I should have, but I think we need to end this.”

“I think so, too. Just make sure you take all your stuff. I don’t want the clutter.”

“I owe you so much. You really helped me navigate the—”

“—Let’s not, okay? Goodbye.”

You can’t make a person into someone else. Drake wanted her to take care of him, and he had no capacity to give that back to her. He did owe her so much. But she didn’t even have the energy to collect.

And she reminded him that he was old. Maybe that was her worst quality.

Eventually, she took a shower. Eventually, her current assistant arrived and helped her hire a nurse.

But for six weeks, she hid.

Her only comfort was from calls with Siena. Siena and her mom called, sent flowers, sent candy, and Face Timed her. They were there, even though they weren’t. Goldie assured them that it was okay, that the surgery was no big deal.

In a lot of ways, she was right. It was no big deal. Goldie healed fast. She felt pretty good after two weeks and just about normal after two months.

But the idea that she’d gone through it alone was in the back of her mind. She’d sacrificed a lot for this life.

And it was coming home to roost.