Fierce Passion (23 page)

Gian Carlo drank his milkshake in the cafeteria and fell asleep in his chair soon after rejoining Alejandro. Unable to sit still, Alejandro paced the long corridor with his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes focused on the shiny linoleum tile. He avoided glancing toward the clock in the waiting room each time he passed. He thought it cruel to post the time where frantic family members and friends had to wait hours for news of their loved ones and a second stretched forever.

He’d never considered medicine as a career, but he wished he knew more. He doubted a ballerina could easily regain her former strength and agility after suffering a badly broken leg. It would probably take months to recover, maybe more than a year. Dr. Pallares was either overly optimistic or admired Ana too highly to admit they couldn’t magically heal her injuries.

He found a wrapped mint in his jacket pocket and ate it. A patient was wheeled out of an OR at the end of the corridor, bound for the recovery room, but it wasn’t Ana. Bored walking the silent corridor, he sat down opposite Gian Carlo in the waiting room and stretched out his legs.

The model opened his eyes. “Any news?”

Alejandro shook his head.

Gian Carlo shoved himself out of his chair. “Want some hot chocolate? I’m going to get some.”

“Just bring me a bottle of water.”

“I’ll bring two.”

Gian Carlo reminded him of an overgrown puppy, desperate to please. He closed his eyes and woke with a start when Gian Carlo rushed in and turned on the television set suspended on the wall.

“The accident is on the news. I saw it downstairs.” The next story was up, and he cursed. “I didn’t get up here on time. They had photos from the scene.”

Alejandro opened a bottle of water and took a long drink. “You don’t want me to see those.”

“I’m just warning you what to expect. The paparazzi have to be gathered outside, hoping for a chance to get in.”

“The hospital must have security.”

“Of course they do.” Gian Carlo turned off the television and sipped his cup of hot chocolate. “How long do you think Ana will have to stay here?”

“Not long. I’ll move her to a private hospital as soon as she can be released.”

“Do you ever have to worry about money?”

Alejandro failed to respond. He knew absolutely nothing about private hospitals, but he wanted somewhere Ana wouldn’t be pestered by paparazzi and tabloid journalists eager for a story. He’d have to find a place celebrities chose for the security. Someplace with lovely rooms and a peaceful view. He was uncertain what to do until he realized he could provide everything she’d need on a cruise ship. It was the perfect answer. She couldn’t work, so she’d have no reason not to go on a cruise. On board one of their ships, he’d make her recovery as pleasant as he possibly could.

When the orthopedist entered the waiting room, he looked as tired as Alejandro felt. The physician sat on the arm of an upholstered chair. “Everything went well, but it was a bad break. The plastic surgeon has worked on Ana’s cuts. She’s being taken to recovery and won’t be awake until tomorrow morning. Go on home and come back for visiting hours.”

“Even if I have to look through a window, I need to see her tonight,” Alejandro insisted.

“I’ll wait here,” Gian Carlo offered.

The weary orthopedist rose slowly. “I’ll give you one minute, that’s all.”

Alejandro did have to stand at the window at the end of the room, but Ana was in the closest bed. She’d have been unrecognizable to others, but even with her head bandaged, he knew her. A nurse stood on the other side of the bed adjusting an IV drip and smiled when she saw him.

He sagged against the wall. “I’ll go.”

The doctor grasped his shoulder. “Patients’ families faint so often I’ve become good at catching them. Go back to the waiting room and rest before you drive home.”

Alejandro nodded, but what he really wanted to do was return to the lounge and strangle Gian Carlo. Perhaps anticipating such a threat, the model had disappeared. Ana’s bag sat on the table beside the model’s chair. Taking the orthopedist’s advice, Alejandro sank into his chair and leaned back. When he felt better, he’d go home, but he ached clear through that all he could take with him for comfort was Ana’s bloody bag.

Chapter Eleven

Alejandro returned to L’Esperanza the next morning looking as haggard as when he’d left. He’d showered, shaved and put on clean clothes, but it hadn’t improved his dark mood. He entered from the parking garage to avoid any paparazzi lurking at the front entrance. If the TV news had photos of the accident, they had to be in the tabloids, but he refused to look when seeing Ana so badly injured was pure torture. He carried the bouquet of yellow roses he’d bought on the way and went to the main desk to ask for Ana’s room number.

The receptionist smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to see her. I’ll have the roses sent to her room.”

“I’m her husband,” he argued persuasively. “Dr. Pallares will tell you who I am.”

Appearing convinced by his earnest manner, the receptionist checked her computer screen. She wrote Ana’s room number on a slip of paper and passed it to him.

He glanced at the paper and slipped it into his pocket as he entered the elevator. The door to Ana’s room was ajar, and a nurse was with her. “May I come in?”

“Please do. I’m Maja, Ana’s nurse today. Please put your vase of pretty roses on the windowsill with the other flowers.”

He saw Santos Aragon’s name on a gorgeous mix of pink roses and carnations. Ana had mentioned Miguel, but never his son, Santos. Alejandro wondered just how well acquainted the two were, but it was another worry he didn’t need. Paul Perez had sent a leafy philodendron. Rather than search the other bouquets for cards with men’s names, he turned away.

“Use the call button if you need me,” Maja offered on her way out.

“Thank you.” Alejandro stood beside the bed, uncertain what to do. Ana needed rest to get well, but he longed to tease her awake with gentle kisses. When her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes, he reached for her hand. “I’m so sorry I left you yesterday.”

She blinked, rubbed her eyes and stopped when she felt the bandage covering her right cheek. “You’re all blurry, but that’s my fault rather than yours. What happened? Did the ancient elevator in your building crash with us inside?”

“You don’t remember the accident?” She looked so fragile and pale, and spoke slowly as though she were underwater. He’d thought he couldn’t be more disappointed in himself for leaving her, but the torment became even more painfully deep.

“Obviously not,” she breathed out through a yawn.

Maja entered, carrying a bouquet of daisies. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. These are from Valeria.” She fit the vase into the last open space on the windowsill. “I’ll bring you some broth to make you feel better.”

“I doubt it.” Ana raised her hand to touch the bandages encircling her head. “Why am I wrapped up like a mummy?”

Alejandro pulled the visitor’s chair over to the bed. He described the accident as briefly as he possibly could and glossed over her injuries without admitting he’d been scared to death he’d lose her.

“What happened to Gian Carlo?” she asked.

“Other than emotional distress, nothing. He was here with me last night. It’s probably better you don’t recall anything after Jaime’s memorial.”

She licked her lips and frowned. “Give me a minute.”

He pulled her hand to his lips. “I have all day.”

“Won’t they make you leave soon? Can you make out the time on the clock over the door?”

He followed her glance. “It’s midmorning, but they won’t ask me to keep my visit short. I told them I was your next of kin.”

“Like a brother?”

“No. I told them I’m your husband.”

Astonished, she raised her left hand. “Where’s my ring? I don’t remember marrying you, but you must have given me a ring.”

Before he could explain, Maja returned with the bowl of soup on a tray. She placed it on the rolling table at the end of the bed, pressed the bed control button to raise Ana’s head, and rolled the table close to her. She handed her a spoon. “Try and swallow it all.”

Ana’s hand shook, and she dropped the spoon. “Maybe I should just drink it.”

Alejandro picked up the bowl. “I’ll help you.”

“I wish all my patients had such thoughtful husbands. It makes my job so much easier. I’ll check on you again soon.”

Ana rested her hands on his and took a couple of sips of the broth. “This doesn’t have any taste. Try it and you’ll see.”

He did. “It’s warm and liquid. You must need liquids.”

She swallowed a little more. “That’s enough. Now let me think what I do remember.”

He put the bowl back on the tray and rolled the table out of her way. “You know me.”

“Alejandro something. Was I going to use your name?”

He’d not thought she’d actually believe they were married, but he couldn’t see any harm in the convenient lie for the time being. “No, of course not. Everyone knows you as Ana Santillan.”

“I can’t remember a wedding. Did my mother come?”

“No. We planned to have another wedding in Rouen. We haven’t told her yet. I haven’t called her about your accident either, and I should.” He pulled her phone from his pocket. “The accident has been on the news. You’re well-known in France, and I wouldn’t want her to hear about it before we call.”

“What should I say?” She plucked the top sheet.

Clearly she’d been shaken up by the accident, but he hadn’t expected her to be so apprehensive about making a phone call. “Tell her you’re fine and then mention the accident. You broke your leg and won’t be dancing for a while, but she doesn’t need to come and take care of you. Promise to visit her soon.” He scanned the names in her phone, found her mother’s and handed her the phone.

She held it in shaky hands. “I’m fine, broken leg and I’ll see her soon.”

“That’s it.” He held his breath, but the conversation with her mother went more smoothly than he’d dared hope. “Tell her you’ll call her again soon.”

She nodded, but first asked about her stepfather. “I can’t wait to taste his new recipes. Love you.” She handed him her phone. “Will you keep it for me?”

“I will. The
Mediterranean Siren
is in port this week, and as soon as you’re released, you’ll be more comfortable there than at home. We need to call Fatima.” He again scrolled through the names on her phone. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Fatima will be worried, won’t she?” She covered another yawn. “I’ll call her. What should I say?”

He’d never seen her unable to handle her side of a conversation, but with her vision blurry and her memory hazy, he couldn’t fault her. “Tell her you’re fine and ask about the kittens.”

“Kittens?” She closed her eyes and frowned. “Are they black or white?”

“One of each. Romeo and Juliet.”

“I remember them now. Maybe all I need is a little push. Call her and give me the phone.”

He did and walked over to smell the flowers perfuming the room. Ana had to reassure Fatima several times, but eventually convinced her she was doing well. She promised to call her every day.

He came back to the bed to take the phone. “Can you smell the flowers? Santos Aragon sent pink roses and carnations. Do you know him well?”

A bright blush filled her cheeks. “Santos? That’s a long story, and I’d fall asleep before I finished.”

“So you do remember him?” He hated himself for asking about Santos when the story was clearly more than he wished to hear.

She licked her lips. “I remember you. Is there some water?” He held the cup, and she drank from the straw. “Thank you. Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

He set the cup on the nightstand and took her hand. “I’ve finished most of what I had to do for the university.”

“You should go finish the rest,” she mumbled sleepily. “Did you say you brought me flowers?”

“Yellow roses.” He pulled one from the vase and gave it to her. “Can you smell it?”

“I love yellow roses.” She brushed it against her cheek. “I’d like to go to sleep. You needn’t sit and watch. Come back later, if you like.”

Being casually dismissed hurt, but he did have things that had to be done. First of all, he’d buy her a wedding ring.

It was after two when he returned with fresh strawberries and peaches she could eat without needing a bowl or spoon. “I washed them. Try a strawberry and tell me how it tastes.”

She rolled a strawberry from the container between her fingers and bit off the pointed tip. She licked juice from her lips. “This is delicious. Thank you for bringing them. Maybe I’ll feel like eating more later.”

He put the fruit on the rolling table at the end of her bed. “I’ll bring anything you’d like.”

“You’re so sweet, but I just don’t feel like eating. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Alejandro feared it might take much longer for her to feel like herself. He pulled the plain gold band from his pocket and slid it on her finger. He’d guessed at her size, and luckily, it fit perfectly. “We hadn’t told anyone we’d gotten married, so you weren’t wearing your ring.”