Anne McAllister - Hired by Her Husband

“Four.” George finished the sentence before she could. He knew exactly how old she was. Remembered every minute of the day she was born. Remembered holding her in his arms. Remembered how the mantle of responsibility felt on his shoulders—unexpected, scary, yet absolutely right.

Sophy blinked. “You remembered?”

“Of course.”

She swallowed. “Would you…like to see a picture of her?”

Would he? George nodded almost jerkily. Sophy didn’t seem to notice. She was already opening her purse and taking out her wallet. She fished out a photo and came back across the room to hand it to him.

George took one look at the child in the photo and felt his throat close.

God, she was beautiful. He’d seen some snapshots that his mother had given him from the wedding so he had an idea of what Lily was like. But this photo really captured her.

She was sitting on a beach, a bucket of sand on her lap, her face tipped back as she laughed up at whoever had taken the photo. It was like seeing a miniature Sophy, except for the hair. Lily’s was dark and wavy and, in this photo, wind-tossed. But her eyes were Sophy’s eyes—the same shape, the same color. “British sports car green,” he’d once called them. And her mouth wore a little girl’s version of the delighted, sparkling grin that, like Sophy’s, would make the world a brighter place. Her fingers were clutching the sides of the sand pail, and George remembered how her much tinier fingers had clutched his as she’d stared up at him in cross-eyed solemnity whenever he held her.

He blinked rapidly, his throat aching as he swallowed hard. When he was sure he could do it without sounding rusty, he lifted his gaze and said, “She’s very like you.”

Sophy nodded. “People say that,” she agreed. “Except her hair. She has y—Ari’s hair.”

Ari’s hair. Because Lily was Ari’s daughter. Not his.

For all that George had once dared to hope, like her mother Lily had never been his.

They both belonged to Ari—always had—no matter that his cousin had been dead since before Lily’s birth. Some things, George found, hurt more than the pounding in his head. He ran his tongue over his lips. “She looks happy.”

“She is.” Sophy’s voice was firm and confident now. “She’s a happy well-adjusted little girl. She’s actually pretty easygoing most of the time. Once she got over the three-month mark, she stopped having colic and settled down. I managed,” she added, as if it needed saying.

He supposed she thought it did. She’d had something to prove when she’d told him to get out. And she’d obviously proved it.

Now he took a breath. “I’m glad to hear it.” George took one last look at the picture then held it out to her.

“You can have it,” she said. “I can print another one. If you want it,” she added a second later, as if he might not.

“Thanks. Yes, I’d like it.” He studied it again for a long moment before turning slowly in an attempt to set it on the table next to the bed.

Sophy reached out and took it from him, standing it up against his water pitcher so he could see it if he turned his head. “There.” She stepped back again. “She can…watch over you.” As soon as she said the words, she ducked her head, as if she shouldn’t have. “You should get some rest.”

“We’ll see.”

“No ‘we’ll see.’ You should,” she said firmly.

He didn’t reply, and she seemed to realize that was something else she shouldn’t have said, that she had no right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. “Sorry,” she said briskly. “None of my business.” She turned toward the door again. “Goodbye.”

He almost called her back a second time. But it would simply prolong the awkwardness between them. And when you got right down it, there was nothing else.

It had been kind of her to have come—even if it was simply “payback” on her part. Still, it was more than he would have expected.

No, that was unfair.

She might not love him, but she was tenderhearted. Sophy would do the right thing for anyone she perceived to be in need—even the man she resented more than anyone on earth.

He didn’t need her, he reminded himself. He’d lived without her for nearly four years. He could live without her for the rest of his life. All he had to do was end things now as he should have done four years ago.

“Sophy!”

This time she was beyond the door and when she turned, she looked back with something akin to impatience in her gaze. “What?”

He made it clear—to both of them. “Don’t worry. It will never happen again. As soon as I get out of here, I’ll file for divorce.”

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.