Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,75

I need you. Please be okay.

I stared at the words. Love? My emotional stability trotted to the closest cliff and jumped off. Between Nicole’s pregnancy news and the accident, I couldn’t have an I Love You conversation with Carter right now. Did I love him? I thought so. But my emotions were all over the place. And he thought I might be hurt. Who knew what kind of false emotions he was dealing with?

I was torn, trying to decide how to respond, when I heard my name called. I looked up, Dante waving me toward a taxi. I took a deep breath and looked back at my phone, typing out a quick reply.

I’m okay. I’m sorry you were worried. I have to visit Nicole at the hospital. I’ll call you shortly.

It wasn’t romantic. It didn’t address his I love you at all. But hopefully it would calm his fears and stop any panic.

I saw dots appear, his response, and started toward Dante.

Thank God. Be careful and call me when you can. I love you.

That again. I felt a burst of happiness. It felt strange, being happy on such a horrible day, and I locked the phone, feeling guilty, and tried to swallow my smile as I stepped into the cab.

68. Wounds Aren’t the Only Superficial Things

Nicole’s skinny arm reached out from under the hospital bed’s sheet, waving for the purse. “Chloe!” she barked, and Clarke turned, his worried eyes meeting mine. I stepped into the hospital room and passed it over, her eyes meeting mine. “Did you get everything?” she asked pointedly and I nodded. “Everything?” she repeated.

“Yes. Everything.” I emphasized the word and I think she got the point, pulling the bag from my hands and peeking under the flap of it.

Clarke stepped toward me, lowering his voice. “She has some bad surface wounds,” he said. “But everything is superficial.”

“Really?” I glanced at Nicole, who closed her purse and clutched it against her chest like she might never let it go.

“She’s refusing X-rays,” he continued, and I nodded, unsurprised.

“I’m RIGHT HERE,” Nicole yelled. “And I’m FINE. Chloe, call the studio and let them know I can’t film today. And if I need a doctor, find one who will make house calls.” She tried to run a hand over the top of her hair, and I saw the tremble of her fingers.

“You’re not going to be able to film today?” Clarke turned to face her. “Nicki, you need to rest. Have you seen your face? You’ll have bruises, swelling—” I put my hand on his shoulder and stopped him, Nicole’s eyes widening as she lifted a hand to her face. Stupid man. He should know how much a threat to this woman’s looks would freak her out.

“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled in my best attempt at reassurance. “I’ll call them.”

“Good,” she snapped. “And get me a doctor. I want to be released from this hellhole now.”

I took her order and escaped, finding a nurse and communicated her demand. And, forty-five minutes later, she was released.

I leaned against a column in the parking garage and watched as Clarke and Dante carefully helped her into a car, her purse still in a death grip against her chest.

“We’ve got it from here,” Clarke said, shutting the door and looking at me. “You’ve had a hard day. Why don’t you head home?”

I nodded without argument, waving goodbye and watching them pull out of the garage and into the sunlight. I wondered, as I stepped into a cab, what more could possibly go wrong.

As it turned out? A lot.

The pregnancy news ate at me, devouring every spare brain cell, nothing else computing as I sat in the back of a filthy cab and tried to think. I needed to talk to someone, needed feedback, and my options were the girls or Carter.

Shit. Carter. I had forgotten all about him and the I love you texts.

It scared me, knowing that he might feel as strongly for me as I felt for him. Talk about a stupid fear to have. We were all running around this giant city trying to find love, trying to find soulmates. Looking for an all-encompassing, scary love just like this one. I should be jumping up and down in my Brian Atwoods and speed-dialing Carter’s number. Proclaiming my love to him and embracing the fact that—for once—I was experiencing this love with a nice guy. One who wouldn’t bang the maid, one who answered my calls, one who would put me