Page 29 of No Lies No Promises

Good God. “Ew.” I wipe my mouth on the sheet. “Gross. Don’t you ever—”

“Call me.” Virtual phone at his ear, he smirks at Sean, then exits stage left.

My eyes rise to my partner’s face, staring at the dotted ceiling tiles.

As his body vibrates with fury and his jaw muscles pulse, I squeeze the hand that’s never left mine.

“Surely, you didn’t believe him?”

Exhaling, he leans over the rail to tug me against his wet cashmere shirt. “Of course not, babe. Wasn’t mad at you.”

The arm not tethered to the IV slips under his sport coat, around his waist. Slowly, the reality hits me full force. For the second time in a week, I nearly died.

With unwanted tears flowing down my cheeks, Hwan holds the damn curtain open for yet another stranger, this one in jeans and a blue work shirt.

“Excuse me. This is Wade Thomas, fire inspector. He has a few questions.”

Grouchy, ready to go home, I scowl at the two. “What’s the point of a privacy curtain, Mike, if everyone ignores it? I might as well be in Times Square.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” The fiftyish man nods, not looking at all apologetic.

“Want me to get the doctor? Tell them to go away?” Sean steps forward, still favoring one leg.

Jesus. There’s blood on the floor. “Nurse! Nurse! Come here. We need help.” I point my finger at the leg bleeding all over the floor. “Don’t even think about arguing, or I will call your grandmother. Do not return until someone mends that leak. You know where to find me. Go!”

Smirking, the dynamic duo wave goodbye, no doubt pleased Sean’s no longer running interference.

My head, merely throbbing a moment ago, has now notched up to excruciating.

“Before I answer any questions, I’ll need a super-duper-strength Tylenol. Probably three.” I point to the top frowny face on the wall chart, the one with tears streaming down its face. “Tell the nurse it’s a ten.”

As soon as my headache subsides to the not-going-to-kill-someone level, the nurse allows the Wade and Mike show back to my bedside.

The fire expert opens a low-tech spiral notebook, then clicks his pen. “At any time, did you smell anything unusual?”

“Pearson’s aftershave. God, someone should tell him less is more.”

Mike grins, but Wade has no sense of humor. “I meant paint, chemicals, or cleaning fluids.”

“Umm…” I close my eyes. “I guess. The place had that newly painted smell, but not over-the-top.”

“Open electrical outlets?” he asks, scribbling on his paper.

“Ah, the covers were off in the kitchen. It was torn apart. Unfinished. No appliances. Plumbing half done.”

A few more questions later, we eventually wind down.

In the silence, Mike glances down at my empty left ring finger. “Are you really engaged?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. As I’m about to ask what business it is of his, Sean returns wearing clean yellow hospital garb. “Hey, babe. All sewed up.”

Wondering where to donate our ever-growing collection of scrubs, I return to Officer Hwan’s question. “I am in a committed, monogamous relationship. The next logical step will be marriage. So, in that respect, I am engaged. To Sean Clark. Not Jeff Pearson.”

It takes forever, but eventually Mr. Fireman and Mr. Policeman leave. Afterward, I have a CAT scan. When the doctor is convinced my brain isn’t going to leak out of my cracked skull, he signs the release papers.

All the while, Sean expounds on hospital policies and procedures, including HIPAA. “…even a fiancé isn’t family. If you’re injured, your father has more rights to see you than I do.”

Not this argument. Not again. “Honey, I don’t need an expensive ring. Why not trade me for a pig and two cows? It comes from the same tradition of male dominance. Ownership.”