Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(65)

“That’s sweet.”

“He will wonder if you’re gunning for the oil money.”

Ike laughed from across the room. “Sorry.” He ducked his head when they both turned to look at him.

“When Daddy finds out about Avery, he is going to worry. I don’t want to do that to him.”

“Fathers are supposed to worry, darlin’.”

“Yeah, well . . . he isn’t getting younger, and I’d hate to be the one to add more stress to his life.”

“That isn’t your call. If you don’t tell him, the papers will.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. It will have to wait until I get my phone back, though. I haven’t memorized a phone number other than my own in years.”

“So we have today’s game plan. We let Corrine deal with the Wade Thomas PR, you’ll get ahold of your parents while I prepare to meet your father.”

“You’ll deal with your mother,” she pointed out.

“Yup. Anyone else?”

“I should make a call to Diane and Andrea.”

“Who are they?”

“Fedor’s aunts. I’m pretty sure they listen to country music, so you’re safe there.”

Wade smiled.

“All of this can happen from the waiting room at the hospital. I don’t want Avery waking up without me there. You shower, and I’ll call Lori’s room and see if she’s ready to walk over.”





Chapter Twenty-Four



Avery was getting sick and tired of waking up with a new pain somewhere on her broken and battered body. Hospitals were not the place to sleep. Between doctors coming in every few hours, nurses waking you up every two hours in the middle of the night, tests, and visitors, she wasn’t sure how it was possible to get better at all.

That morning she’d been wheeled into surgery before the sun came up, or so it seemed. In the fog of her brain, Avery realized that she’d gotten out of surgery only to wake up in a recovery room feeling as if the world had sat on her face and wasn’t giving her any room to breathe without pain shooting behind her eyeballs. Someone had given her something in her IV and she’d fallen into a blissful haze again.

Now, the earth was still knocking her in the face, but the pain wasn’t as sharp as it had been the first time she’d opened her eyes. Her back felt as if she’d been moved to a proper bed instead of being on a surgical gurney. She’d take her comforts any way she could at this point. A soft mattress on her ass was a start. She attempted to move her head and instantly regretted it.

She moaned.

“Hey . . .”

Trina.

“Water,” she sputtered.

Trina was there with a cup and a straw. Since the bed was already elevated, Avery didn’t attempt to sit up more. The first sip hurt, but the second sip soothed. Trina pulled it away. “The nurse said only a few sips to start. We have to do everything we can to keep you from coughing or getting sick to your stomach.”

She imagined the pain with either task would equal walking barefoot on broken glass. Avery’s face was covered in bandages once again and it felt as if someone had a party in her nose and had invited the entire state of New York.

Trina came into focus, the concern in her eyes making Avery want to blow off her pain.

“How do you feel?”

“Ready to party.” Avery closed her eyes.

“There’s a button for the pain medication.”

Yeah, but the medication would just knock her out, and she wanted a few minutes of cognition before falling back asleep.

“How do I look?”

“Ready to party,” Trina repeated her words with a small laugh.

She opened her eyes again. “No, really?”

Trina made a point to look everywhere but in Avery’s eyes, as if studying her face. “There’s more swelling, and a few new colors have been introduced to your complexion. I’d hold off on any new selfies for your Tinder profile.”

Avery smiled and felt the packing in her nose even more.

“I’m so sorry any of this happened, Avery.”

She held open the palm in her good hand, and Trina slipped hers in. “Not your fault.”

“But if you weren’t in the city for me—”

Avery tried to squeeze Trina’s hand. “Still not your fault.” She used only her eyes to look around the new room. It was a private room that looked less like a hospital room and more like a hotel. The darker color on the walls soothed her senses more than the stark white of the ICU. There were flowers. Two bouquets sat on a shelf across from her bed and brightened the space. “What time is it?”

“Two thirty. Are you hungry?”

“No. Where is everyone?”

“Lori, Shannon, and Reed are grabbing a bite in the cafeteria. I told your parents I’d call once you’re awake. Your mother doesn’t like hospitals, apparently.”

“Yeah, did she tell you why?”

Trina shook her head.

“Because they remind her of two days of labor with me . . . her greatest disappointment.”

Trina looked at her as if she were joking.

“Fine, don’t believe me. But if you ask why she has an aversion to hospitals, she’ll tell you because of the time she’s spent in them. Then ask my father when my mother was in a hospital the last time.”