Tymber Dalton (33 page)

She sighed. “Okay.”

“Get moving. It’s nearly nine. You’ll have to leave soon. Boy Genius will wonder what happened.”

“What do I tell him about you?”

“Tell him the truth. I had a hard time getting up. And I needed to do some work.”

She started to reply, caught the intended barb, and playfully swatted him. “You said I couldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry. Last one.” His face grew serious again. “Seriously, we have to pull this off.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Sami finished the dishes while deep in thought. Steve had once commented, positively, about a passionate love scene in one of her books. She thanked him, but inside she fought tears, remembering the night she lived the scene in real life with Matt years earlier.

Matt had skirted the issue, thanking her for the trip down memory lane even though he needed a cold shower after reading it. She had hoped for more of a reaction from him. Perhaps hoping he’d ask her to leave Steve and come back to him? Wishful thinking on her part.

She fed the horses and left for the hospital.

* * * *

Matt finished dressing and, using the password Sami gave him, copied all of Steve’s document files, remembering to delete the sections of text relating to their relationship. There was still some pretty freaky stuff. Nothing to do with them, though.

Then he moved Sami’s desk into Steve’s office, trying to replace everything as closely as possible. The desk might be different, but he didn’t want to be an asshole. Their story was he helped Sami move the desk, and she would make sure his things were as close to the same place as possible.

Turning around to survey the office, he spotted Julie’s handkerchief on the bookcase.

“Dammit.” He didn’t want to touch the watch, but he couldn’t leave it there either. And that reminded him to fix the closet. He put the watch in a drawer in his room and stopped in the upstairs hall. There was something else…what was it?

He thought and looked up. The digital recorder was where Sami left it in the middle of the attic floor. It had shut off automatically when the memory filled. He put it with the watch and returned to Steve’s office to fix the hidden panel.

It wasn’t perfect, but as long as Steve wasn’t crawling around in there with a flashlight, it would be okay for now.

Matt put a few boxes and other things in the closet and pushed them against the back wall. That would work. Steve wouldn’t be able to move anything for at least a few days. Matt wished they’d removed the whiskey. There just wasn’t enough time.

Matt listened to the news while he worked. An early tropical depression was trying to form in the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of Florida. No telling what, if anything, would develop, but the weatherman advised viewers to pay attention.

Matt removed all evidence of their encounter from the house. He carefully hunted down every scrap in the bedroom, making the bed, throwing out the garbage, almost missing her glass on his dresser. That reminded him—the vodka bottle was still on the kitchen counter. He hid it in his luggage. Downstairs, he gathered all the trash and put it in the back of his SUV. He wasn’t sure the desk would fit but once he put the backseat down, he wrestled all the pieces in.

* * * *

Steve woke when the nurse checked his vitals.

“So, do I get to blow this pop stand today?” he asked.

She looked old enough to be his mother. “I don’t care to know that much about your personal life,” she quipped, and it took Steve a moment to catch her meaning.

He chuckled, wincing at the pain. “You’re good.”

“You’ll never know, sparky.” She winked, checking his chart. “But yes, you might get to go home today, from the looks of your lab work. Dr. Smith will be here in a while to check you over and make the final decision. Did you need to call your wife?”

“She should be here soon.”

“You can sponge off in the shower if you promise not to get the incision wet. I can get you some towels.”

“Don’t feel like helping me?”

She shook her head. “You couldn’t handle me, sport.” She walked out, leaving him laughing. He realized laughing hurt.

She returned minutes later with towels and stood by while he gingerly climbed out of bed. Once she knew he wasn’t going to fall or pass out, she left him alone.

The hot water felt good. He sat on the folding seat in the shower and carefully washed. He felt like he’d been in the hospital years instead of days. It would be strange going home.

Not to mention it would be strange dealing with Sami. Would she even want to stay? He wasn’t sure she would come, despite what he’d told the nurse. Maybe she’d send Matt to get him, too angry to face him herself.

He’d have to wait and see.

It surprised Steve when Sami walked in.

He spied the bump on her forehead immediately. “What happened?”

She touched it. Did she appear jumpy? No, it had to be his imagination. If she acted jumpy, it was probably because of how he’d behaved.

“I was in the basement moving stuff around and whacked my head on the stairs.”

“It looks painful.”

“It’s okay. I put ice on it last night.”

“Where’s Matt?”

“At the house. He said he had work to catch up on. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. I had a pretty good night last night, they tell me.”

“That’s right, he did.” Dr. Smith appeared in the doorway, a nurse in tow. He carried Steve’s chart. “I think we can let him go home, but we’ll need to arrange for a home care nurse to administer the medicine.

“Sami can do it,” Steve said. “She’s used to giving horse injections.”

“Are you comparing yourself to a horse?” Dr. Smith asked.

“No, but I’ve been acting like a horse’s ass.”

Sami smiled. “If someone will show me what needs to be done, I can manage.”

The nurse spent a half hour showing her how to flush the port and administer the medicine. Dr. Smith went over the discharge instructions, wrote prescriptions, and handed the paperwork to the nurse. “I want to see you on Friday, Steve. Come to my office around nine.”

Sami nodded. “I’ll have him there.”

Steve dressed. Still felt sore, but the pain felt different. Only the surgical site hurt now, whereas before it felt like his whole gut was on fire. That must have been the infection. The nurse pushed his wheelchair to the front door and waited while Sami brought the truck around.

“Your wife is a writer, too?” she asked, trying to make conversation.

“Yes. I think she’s better than me, personally. But if you tell her I said that, I’ll deny it,” he joked.

“Still, she must like that you’re successful.”

“She’d probably enjoy it a lot more if I wasn’t such a pain in the ass and hard to live with.”

“That’s not a problem reserved for famous writers, Mr. Corey, believe me. There are plenty of men out there who are pains in the ass who aren’t famous writers.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t married to my wife. I hope I didn’t screw things up too much.”

“Well, if you want my advice, you can’t undo what’s been done, whatever it was. Apologize, move forward, and quit doing it.”

“I hope it’s that easy.”

“She’s here, isn’t she? That’s a step in the right direction.” Sami pulled the truck alongside.

“Yeah, but for how long?” he said low enough only the nurse could hear.

* * * *

It took Matt a few minutes to unload at the Dumpster. His cell rang as he returned to the house.

“The prisoner’s been sprung!” Steve sounded like his old, happy self.

“That’s great.” Matt hoped he sounded normal. “You on your way back?”

“We’ve got to fill some prescriptions, and then we’re homeward bound.”

Matt smiled in spite of himself. Steve wasn’t a bad guy. Matt still considered him his friend. But with the situation’s seismic shift it would be difficult for him to pretend nothing had changed.

Much less maintain their friendship once Sami filed for divorce.

“You’ve had enough time off,” Matt joked. “Get back to work.”

Steve laughed. “That’s just like you, making sure the cash cow gets milked.” This was a running joke between them. “Guess what?”

“You’ve figured out your next three-book deal?”

Steve laughed again. “No. We’re buying the house. It’s my anniversary present to Sami.”

Matt didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

Their anniversary.
How could he forget? He didn’t know how he faked a smile for the wedding photos.

Well, at least it’s their last one,
Matt thought.

As long as Sami didn’t change her mind.

* * * *

Steve was all smiles as he carefully climbed the porch stairs. Matt met him at the top. “Good to see you up and around, man.”

Steve nodded. “Good to be up and around! The way I felt, I’m glad to be home.” Matt spied the IV port taped to the inside of Steve’s forearm. He knew the worst might be over for now, but it wasn’t far away.

Sami was on the steps below Steve, carrying bags from the drugstore. Matt held the front door open for Steve. Sami caught Matt’s eye for a brief moment before looking away. She looked like he felt—sick to his stomach.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

Steve settled on the couch, and Pog padded out of the kitchen into the living room to greet him. “Hey, boy, Poggy-woggy, how you doing!” He was too caught up in greeting the dog to see Sami’s astonished look.

“How?” she whispered to Matt as she walked through the kitchen doorway.

Matt shrugged. “I guess it must have worked,” he whispered back, taking the bags.

“Sami, please bring me that paperwork the Realtor left.”

She shot Matt one last look and took the folder into the living room.

Matt did his best to eavesdrop on their conversation while he unpacked the groceries. Sami sat next to Steve, the dutiful wife. Matt was anxious to get her alone and find out what happened when she picked Steve up.

Steve talked on the phone with the Realtor.

“…Yes, that’s right, I said we’ll be paying cash for it…No, I won’t agree to that. Look, I’ll give them seven hundred thousand, cash, if they’ll take the clause out of the contract, but this is a one-time offer with a very short expiration date, take it or leave it…Okay, you do that. I’ll be at this number. If we can do this early enough today, I can have my bank issue a wire transfer and have the funds available by tomorrow, Thursday at the latest…No, I’m not interested in a home inspection. I’ll sign a waiver. We’ve been here long enough to know we want the house…Look, whatever it takes to get this paperwork done and finalized no later than Friday. I don’t care what it costs, get it done…Thank you.”

Steve hung up and looked at Sami. “I want the house in your name. This is my present to you. I’ve put you through a lot lately, especially over the past couple of weeks. I want you to have this.”

“Steve, you don’t have—”

Steve laid a finger on her lips. Matt fought the urge to rip it off at the knuckle and feed it to him.

“I know I don’t have to. I feel I owe it to you. And I know there’s a good chance I’ve screwed up beyond hope, but I want this for you.”

Matt looked away and realized he was crushing a package of gauze dressing. He dropped it, taking a deep breath.

Yes, this was going to be
very
difficult.

* * * *

Sami returned to the kitchen and organized Steve’s medicine and other supplies. She had to administer several doses of IV antibiotics over the next three days, and after that the doctor would evaluate Steve to see if more was needed. He was due for a pain pill. She found it and poured him a glass of juice.

Matt fixed a sandwich on the other end of the counter. He didn’t look at Sami. She forced herself to leave and take the medicine to Steve.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, hon.” He swallowed the pill and handed the glass back to her. “Would you mind if I camped out on the couch?”

“Of course not. I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.”

It was a relief to know she wouldn’t have to share a bed with him that night. She handed him the remote, and he found the noon news on an Orlando station. She took the glass into the kitchen and Matt looked at her. They exchanged a brief glance before she went to get the bedding.

Matt carried his lunch into the living room. “How long do you have that?” He motioned to the IV port.

“Only a couple of days. They want to make sure the infection is gone for good. Dr. Smith said they didn’t often see a case as bad as mine. I’m lucky Sami got me to the hospital. If she hadn’t, the infection might have killed me.”

Sami returned with pillows and a light blanket. “Do you want your computer?”