Crazy in Love - Lane Hart Page 0,11

tired looking older nurse and a tall redhead breeze through the curtain. When the woman sees Professor Daughton, she gasps so hard I’m not sure how she didn’t choke on the air.

“Oh my God, Gage! Are you okay?” she asks with an insincere flourish, reaching for him and pulling him into her full bosom that’s barely covered by her revealing, skimpy cream colored dress.

Gage? And the woman’s young but obviously not a student. More like a contestant on America’s Next Top Model, only she’s definitely had work done based on the shiny, plastic look of her face, especially her duck lips that are pressed against his cheek.

“How did you know I was here?” he asks her.

“One of the EMT responders called me since I’m still your emergency contact. Why didn’t you call me?”

Huh. Maybe she’s his sister? Although they don’t look anything alike. They’re night and day.

“I’m fine,” he says. “You didn’t need to come.”

The woman scoffs. “Of course I needed to. Your parents are hours away so I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Professor Daughton’s gaze locks with my questioning one over her shoulder a moment before the woman notices and spins around to follow his line of sight.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks snidely with a hand on her lean hip.

“Re –” I start to say, but the professor interrupts. “A concerned bystander,” he tells her before giving me a pleading look that I take to mean he wants me to keep my mouth shut.

The woman’s judging gaze rakes up and down my long dress twice before her eyes widen. “She looks like a student. Is she the one you left me for when I wouldn’t play your game, you sick bastard?” she turns to yell at Professor Daughton.

Whoa.

“Trish, how many times do I have to tell you that I never cheated on you, and there was no other woman. Our marriage was sucking the life out of me, and that’s why I wanted the divorce.”

Holy cow! They’re married? Or were married?

I’m clearly interrupting a private conversation, so I clutch my purse to my side and ease my way quietly toward the edge of the curtain.

“Reagan, wait,” Professor Daughton calls out. “You don’t have to go. Trish, this conversation is over, and you need to leave. We have attorneys who will handle everything from here on out,” he tells the woman.

“You’re serious?” she asks, throwing in a fake sniffle.

“Ah, yeah. If I wanted you here, I would’ve called you,” he says dismissively to her. I could nearly feel the cold chill of his words.

The woman, Trish, huffs before she squares her shoulders. “I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.

“No, you’re not,” Professor Daughton replies coolly without missing a beat. “And if you really were, you would have to be about seven or eight months along for it to be mine. Since you’re not showing…”

“If you’re fucking her, I will find out,” she threatens, pointing a finger at me and instantly dropping the fake pregnancy she just threw out there so randomly.

“I’m not, and even if I were, that’s none of your business anymore,” Professor Daughton replies before she throws a glare at me and then storms out of the room.

What the heck sort of shitstorm have I landed in?

“Sorry you had to hear all…that,” Professor Daughton murmurs after she’s gone.

Although I don’t know her, I wouldn’t put it past the insane woman to stand on the other side of the curtain to eavesdrop.

“Do me a favor, will you?” he asks. “Pull back that curtain.”

Taking a step to the opening, I smile as I yank it back and find the redhead standing just on the other side with her back to us. She mutters something under her breath before she digs through her purse and then flees the emergency room.

“So, you’re married?” I ask the obvious when I resume my place against the cabinet.

“Was,” he replies. “Well, technically still am until the divorce is finalized.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, at a total loss for what else to reply to finding out that.

He chuckles. “Seriously, after meeting her, you’re apologizing that it didn’t work out?”

“Ah, she seems somewhat…difficult,” I admit.

“The woman is a nightmare that I regret ever meeting.”

Dang, that’s harsh. But really, what sort of woman pulls the “I’m pregnant” card to try and get a man back? An evil, lying one apparently.

“She doesn’t want me back. She just doesn’t know what to do without her father or me taking care of her. Kind of sad, really, but I was tired