Page 151 of The Wrong Husband

The Chief of Staff, thanks me for the proposal. Thanks.Me.She also confirms they’ve already initiated contact with the relevant decision makers in the health service. Archway Hospital’s ER is deemed critical to the community—and will continue to operate for the foreseeable future.

I can’t breathe. Relief floods my limbs like I’ve just been pulled from drowning. My shoulders shake as I clutch the phone to my chest.

A sound escapes my throat. Half gasp, half sob. Tears sting my lashes. I want to scream. Laugh. Cry. All at once.

“We did it, honey.” I press a hand to my chest. “We. Did. It.”

I calm myself, then open the message app and type as fast as I can, my thumbs flying. I send the news to my husband.MyConnor.

Who’s managed to message me every day since he left, using a burner phone to keep the rebels off his trail.

I press send.

Then draw in deep breaths and let the emotions wash over me—gratitude, elation a sense of being overwhelmed.

We saved the ER. Together. Connor and me.

It’s been ten days since he left. A few days ago, he warned me he’d be out of communication range.

He also said the mission was reaching a critical stage, so it wouldn’t be long now until he’d be done and, hopefully, on his way back.

Meanwhile, I’ve started the process of renting out my apartment. It’s a way to keep myself busy, so I don’t spend every moment missing my husband. I've moved all of my stuff into his apartment. It made me feel closer to him to be surrounded by his things and to sleep in his bed, surrounded by bedclothes that smell of him.

A voice interrupts my thoughts, "Phe?"

I smile and jump up. "Zoey, what are you doing here?”

“We haven’t seen you since you got married.” My friend reaches me. “And knowing you must have gone straight back to work, we figured it was best we come visit you here." I hold out my arms, and she crushes me in a hug.

"We’re so glad we caught you on a break.” Harper elbows Zoey aside and hugs me.

The faint scent of tomatoes laced with oregano fills my senses. "Mmm, you smell like pasta sauce."

Harper grimaces. "The boss made me cook it over and over again, until I got it right. That was ten days ago. Not that it ever reached his standards.” She tosses her head. "I understand why he did it. He’s a perfectionist. That’s why he’s so successful. But I swear, I’ll never get the smell out of my skin.”

Then a flush creeps up her cheeks.

“No offense.”

Of course, she’s talking about James. I’m not blind to my brother’s faults. "None taken."

"Another one bites the dust, huh?" As always, Grace is impeccably dressed in a designer pantsuit and a single string of pearls, with her hair pulled back in a French chignon. She looks totally out of place among the standard-issue clothing many of the occupants at the other tables are wearing.

Not that anyone pays us the slightest bit of attention. When medics take a break, you better believe, they’re too busy catching up on their personal lives… And gossip amongst the staff, of course.

"Did you come straight from the studio?" I ask.

"Had to see you and congratulate you." She squeezes my shoulder.

"In case you were wondering, we heard from Skylar that you cut your honeymoon short.” Zoey adds.

Clearly, the Davenport clan have their own established lines of communication, and since the girls know many of them, it's to be expected that they'd know of my whereabouts.

Strangely, it doesn’t feel invasive. If anything, it feels…safe. Like a web of quiet protection. Unlike the gossip at work, which always seems to grow legs and twist the truth, the Davenports seem to share information with one purpose: looking out for each other.

It’s comforting. Especially now—with Connor gone and off the grid. No updates. No messages. No way to know if he’s safe. I feel so helpless… If it weren’t for the Davenports I don’t know what I’d do. I didn’t expect to feel this…held. Not by a family that isn’t mine.

Or maybe it’s just that I never gave my own family a chance. If I had confided more in James and in my friends, they’d have done everything in their power to help me. And I'm coming to realize, even my parents would do anything for me. I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone. And that’s on me. But no more.