The rest of his one-sided conversation was drowned out by the sliding door and then muffled beyond the glass, but suspicion brewed inside me. Macalister’s personal assistant’s name was Nigel. Why would Royce be talking to him?
I needed to find out, and standing around wasn’t going to make that happen.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to my family.
Royce had his back turned as he faced the empty hallway, his phone pressed to an ear and his other hand on his hip. I cracked the sliding door as quietly as possible so I could make out what he was saying.
“Good. How soon can we get him on a helicopter?” Royce paused, listening to the other side. “Great. Call me back if there’re any problems.” Like he was abruptly aware, he turned and looked directly at me. A slow smile spread on his face. “Oh, and Nigel? Thanks. We appreciate your help.”
He tapped the screen and slipped his phone in the interior pocket of his suit coat. His eyes were playful.
“Were you spying on me?” he teased. He gestured across the way to the unused room, and our faint reflection in the dark glass.
Oh, my God, I was an idiot. I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me. “Who are you putting on a helicopter?”
“Dr. Zetsche from Johns Hopkins.” He said it like that would clear everything up. When it didn’t, he added, “I asked Nigel to get me five names of the best obstetrics doctors in America, and Zetsche happened to be the closest. We’ll meet him when he lands at Mass General.”
My brain couldn’t keep up. “What?”
“We’ll have Emily transferred to the Phillips House. It’s the top floor of Mass General, and it’s, uh . . .”—his expression faltered as he searched for the right phrase—“been a while since I’ve been there, but it has some of the nicest suites in the country.”
I grasped my elbow with my other hand, using the awkward posture as a defense mechanism, like it could shield against the pang of hurt I felt for him. He had to be talking about his mother, and the last time he’d been there was when she’d passed away. Like the anniversary of her death, he didn’t elaborate or share his feelings with me.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
His expression was a mixture of sadness and determination. “Your sister deserves better care than Port Cove, don’t you think?”
I didn’t flinch or shrug him off as he cautiously set a hand on my hip. I liked the connection.
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Think of it this way. One of the perks of marrying me is you get the best of everything.”
“No,” I said. “What I don’t understand is why you’re doing this. Why you came with me, why you stayed.” I gestured to the empty hallway. “There’s no one here, no cameras to document this. You won’t get credit for caring about my family.”
He solidified, hardening into stone. “You’re right. Honestly, I don’t care about your family.” His hold on me was firm, locking me into place. “But, as much as I’ve tried not to, I care about you. I know you don’t believe me, and I haven’t given you a reason to, but you’re mine, Marist. My fiancée, and my partner, and . . .” He turned his head to the side, staring down the long hallway as he assembled the words in his mind. When he had them, his focus snapped back to me. “Where you go, I go. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
The distant sounds of the emergency room faded to nothing, so all I could hear was the furious beating of my heart. Royce’s expression was pure conviction. Maybe it was a lie, but I chose to believe what he’d just said was the truth.
“Then tell me what you’re planning,” I whispered.
His lips parted.
But nothing came out, like he was hanging on the cusp of revealing his master plan. Confliction ran visibly through him, and he retreated at the last second. “I can’t, not yet. But I promise you, when it’s in motion? I will.” His advance had been so subtle, I hadn’t realized I was completely in his arms. He tipped his head, so his lips brushed against my hairline, and his voice matched my whisper. “I’ll tell you fucking everything.”
I sighed, closed my eyes, and didn’t fight him as his arms squeezed me into his embrace. Right now, I didn’t care about Macalister’s stupid rule that I’d agreed to. I greedily accepted Royce’s affection, whether it was real or manipulation.
For a long moment we stood in silence, hugging in the quiet hospital corridor. I didn’t want to admit to myself how good it felt to lean on him, both physically and emotionally, and it was hard to say because the words had a bitter taste. “We’re beyond broke, Royce. I don’t know how my family can afford—”