Billy cursed and the reporters shouted questions out all at once. “What are you playing at?” Billy snapped.
“If you would give me a chance to speak, I’ll explain everything to you. Where’s Natalie? She hasn’t texted or called me back. Are you sure she’s with her sister?”
Billy’s face darkened and he shrugged. “She’s wherever she needs to be to be—away from you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are being an idiot. You’re throwing everything away, and for what? Love? You really think she loves you and she’s not just some damn gold digger?”
“Jesus, Billy, what the hell is wrong with you?” Vincent growled. “What did you do?”
“I sent her packing like you should’ve done the day you found out the truth,” he yelled. The crowd fell deathly silent. “You should have divorced her, and since you didn’t, I’ve had to clean up your mess! The papers are being filed as we speak.”
“What papers?” Vincent grabbed Billy’s arms and shook him. “What God damn papers!”
“Divorce papers! It’s the only way to save your ass.”
“No, actually, it’s not. I’m not running for Congress.”
More shocked whispers exploded behind him, but it was Billy’s hateful glare and the twist to his mouth that Vincent saw and only his words he heard as he spoke. “You’re a fool. A damned fool. You have everything laid out at your feet and you’re going to throw it all away?”
“For the woman I love. You know, I think it’s time you had more time to yourself.”
Billy’s smirk turned into a scowl. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re fired as my campaign manager and as my assistant. Life’s made you bitter, and I don’t have time to put up with your shit. You were always jealous of my life. Go find one for yourself, man.”
He glanced at the reporters crowded around, thinking how best to give them a good, final word, when Billy decked him out of nowhere. The hit sent him flying into the side of the porch, and the second nearly broke his nose. He shook his head and ducked under the third, nailing Billy right in the side. Vincent’s cell rang, but Billy tackled him to the grass. They rolled, hitting each other as Billy yelled curses. Two cameramen dropped their gear and rushed to break up the fight, hoisting both men to their feet. They dragged Billy, kicking and screaming, away down the drive.
“Mr. Cunningham? Your cell keeps ringing,” the cameraman who helped him up said.
“Right, thanks.” Wiping blood from his split lip, Vincent answered. “Yeah?”
“Is this Vincent Cunningham, Natalie’s husband?”
“Who the hell’s asking?” Were those sirens in the background? “Who is this?”
“Your wife was in a car accident, sir. We’re on our way to the hospital right now.”
“Car…accident.” He fell to his knees, holding his head. “No, no.”
“She’s stable, as is her sister. We’ll be there in five minutes. Ask for her when you arrive.”
He nodded, his body numb, and hung up.
“Mr. Cunningham?” the man asked.
“Natalie…car accident,” he mumbled and dragged himself to his feet. “I have to get there, to the hospital.” He pictured those scars on her back, saw the crumpled car from her first accident, and his blood boiled in fury. “I have to get there!”
The cameraman glanced around then picked up Vincent’s keys from where they had fallen during the fight. “You’re not driving. How about I give you a lift so you don’t crash on your way there?”
“Good idea.” Vincent heard the reporters talking and saw the cameras flashing, but he didn’t care about any of that anymore. Natalie. He had to get to Natalie.
They reached the hospital in record time and the cameraman—who’s name Vincent didn’t even know—handed his keys back. “Go see your wife. I’ll call a cab.”
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wasn’t about to let our ex-hopeful Congressman crash on his way to see his wife.” The man patted Vincent on the shoulder and shoved him towards the hospital doors.
Pulling himself together the best he could, then deciding that didn’t matter at all, he sprinted through the hospital doors of the ER and to the desk. “My wife…they just brought her in. I need to see her.”
“Calm down, sir,” the nurse behind the counter said gently, putting on his glasses. “What’s her name?”
“Natalie, Natalie Cunningham.”
The man typed the name in and picked up a chart sitting beside him. “She’s stable, and it doesn’t look like she requires surgery. Let me page the doctor and I’ll see if you can go see her, okay? Please wait one second.”
Vincent passed in front of the desk, rubbing his hands over his face and nearly tearing his hair out before the nurse called him back. He led Vincent into the ER and to a bed where Natalie sat, propped up and looking alert. The second she saw Vincent, she called out to him, and he sprinted to her side. He took the hand she offered and kissed her delicately, avoiding the small cuts and bruises.
“Don’t ever scare me like this again,” he whispered. “I can’t handle it, do you understand me?”
“I’m sorry. We were turning around to come back.”
“Come back? To me?”
“You really think I’d leave you just like that?” she argued, wincing as the doctor at the side of the bed stitched up a wound on her arm. “At least this accident wasn’t so bad.”
He sighed. “How bad is she?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply