He nods. “Are you well?” he asks, his British accent polished and melodic.
I nod. “I think so.”
He cocks his head. “You look pale. Frightened.”
“I’m always pale,” I say. As to the frightened part, I don’t know how to respond to that. I certainly don’t feel frightened now. My body’s reaction to this man is entirely independent of my mind, and I’m stunned by the instant attraction, the need, the deep longing.
“Celeste?” he says, his gaze penetrating.
“How… how do you know my name?” I ask, reluctantly pulling away.
He hesitates, his eyes shifting before he answers. “I heard you introduced, and you reminded me of someone I once knew.” His voice has a melancholic undertone that makes me wonder about this other woman, even as a flare of jealousy consumes me. Which is… inappropriate and ridiculous, obviously.
“You seemed to be in a hurry,” he says.
My gaze darts to the place I saw Estelle but there’s no one there now.
“I thought I saw someone, but it must have been my mind playing tricks on me,” I say, confused by everything happening.
He looks up and past me, to where I was sure I saw Estelle, then he glances back down at me before pulling out a business card. “If you ever need to talk, call me.”
I take it. “Dr. Logan Livingstone. What kind of doctor?” I ask.
“The kind that’s a good listener,” he says with a small smile.
“Celeste!” This time the voice comes from behind us, and I resist the urge to groan when Corbin walks up to us, but I put on my game face and smile.
“Honey, this is Dr. Livingstone. He helped me avoid a near fatal fall. Dr. Livingstone, this is Dr. Cutter, my fiancé.”
Those last words feel raw and painful on my throat, and for a flash of a moment it seems they cause Dr. Livingstone pain as well.
I discreetly slip the doctor’s card into my purse and take Corbin’s arm. “I got turned around coming back from the restroom. Shall we join the party?”
Corbin is glaring at Dr. Livingstone, but I pull him away and refocus him with small talk, my eyes flicking to the doctor as we part. There’s a longing in his eyes that matches the inexplicable emotions welling within me, but this is not the time or place to unpack that confusion.
The last thing I want is for Corbin to get angry in front of all these people.
“I’m so glad you found me,” I say with a forced giggle. Ugh. I want to gag myself right now. “Did I miss anyone important?”
Corbin’s face lights up, the mysterious doctor forgotten as he tells me all about the biggest donors and how we’ve been invited to a yacht party in two weeks. Of course we won’t go. We never go to events that require exposure to the sun. Corbin has always been sensitive to the sun, to the point he was hospitalized once. Now we structure our lives to revolve around the evenings. Still, he’s excited to have been invited and it sounds like we will be hosting a dinner for them instead.
“You’ll have to organize with Maurice to make sure the menu is perfect,” he says, referring to our chef.
I nod. I hate planning dinner parties, but it’s a small price to pay for the life of luxury I enjoy, I suppose.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of alcohol, auctions, dinner, and small talk. I don’t see the sexy doctor again, and any ghostly apparitions that might be haunting me seem to have left for the night as well.
My body is stiff and tired when we get home, and I feign a headache when Corbin leans into me, his body hard with desire. The thought of being with him tonight feels…wrong. Like I’d be cheating—which doesn’t make sense. But then, nothing about this night has made sense.
The next morning I rush out after a quick cup of coffee, leaving Corbin asleep in our darkened bedroom.
Even though I know what I saw last night was impossible, I have to be sure.
My heart is pounding against my ribs like an agitated bird when I arrive at the long-term care facility. I don’t use the driver when Corbin’s not with me, preferring to use my own car for personal errands and school, despite his displeasure. The one good thing about his nocturnal ways is the freedom it affords me during the day. Though he insists I stay up all night with him most nights, so it’s a balancing act that often leaves me exhausted.
At least I think it does.
Since yesterday, thoughts about my life with Corbin have been feeling murkier, like they are less reality and more a dream.
Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I take a deep breath and pull out the business card from Dr. Livingstone. Maybe I will give him a call. I could use someone to talk to, someone who might help me clear my mind of whatever madness is taking hold in there.
That panic arises again, and I push it away head into the building I’m parked in front of.
I’m greeted by a chipper nurse who smiles in recognition when I walk in. “Celeste, what a surprise. You don’t usually visit until Sunday.”
“I know,” I say, “but I needed to see her.”
The nurse nods knowingly. “She’ll be so happy you’re here.”
I’m doubtful of that, but keep my reservations to myself. Nurse Lacey means well, and I’d like to think she’s right, even if it is a bit wishful. It’s why I come weekly, no matter what my schedule, in hopes that it makes a small difference in her care.
The hallways are sterile and there’s a faint smell of disinfectant that covers an underlying scent of body odor and disease. I’ve always hated hospitals, and long term care facilities are even worse. Thanks to Corbin, I can afford the best care. I can only imagine what the low-end facilities are like.
We reach her room and the nurse opens the door for me. “She’s been the same. No change in her condition.”
I nod, not surprised. No one anticipates a change in her condition, and sometimes I wonder if this limbo is its own kind of hell for her. But what are my options? Her body seems intent on staying alive.
I walk in and pause, studying her room. Soft classical music plays from speakers by her bed. Fresh flowers and plants are placed around her room to brighten the mood and help cover the hospital smell. A waterfall fountain across the room adds to the natural energy of the space, and brightly colored art hangs from the walls.
Taking tentative steps, I approach the woman in the bed, my eyes filling with tears when I see her face. Of course she’s still here, where else would she be?
I brush aside her dark hair and study her face. Once upon a time you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart. We were twins in every sense of the word. Now, though, her sunken cheeks and sallow complexion set her apart from me in the worst possible ways.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand in mine. “Oh, Estelle, I wish you were here.” My thumb brushes over the deep scars on her wrists, a reminder of why she’s in a coma.
On her eighteenth birthday, she tried to take her life. After she cut her wrists, she tried to get out of the bath. Did she change her mind? Was she trying to get help? I can only speculate. Because she didn’t make it out of the bathroom. Instead, she fell, hitting her head so hard she lapsed into a coma she might never wake from. Now, she’ll spend the remainder of her life in this bed.
“Corbin took me to a party last night.” I bring her hand to my lips, kissing it. “I could have sworn you were there. I saw you, clear as I’m seeing you now. I think I’m losing my mind. Is this what you felt like? Is that why you did what you did?”