Page 18 of Promised Love
“Lukas Spencer.” A doctor and a nurse, both dressed in scrubs, stand beside me just inside the waiting room.
Everyone is out of their seats at once. “Yeah.”
A man in a wheelchair rolls forward from a corner. “I’m his friend and business partner. How is he?”
“No family?” The doctor jerks his head toward me. “And you are?”
“I’m his…w-wife. Autumn Spencer.”
There’s a shower of curses from the men in the room, until the nurse clears her throat. “Yes, I called you, Mrs. Spencer. You and Mr. Connor King are Mr. Spencer’s emergency contacts.”
The doctor doesn’t wait for any more introductions. “Mr. Spencer’s surgery was successful. He’ll be moved to a recovery room soon, and the nurses will take his family to see him.”
Once the hospital staff leaves, I’m again the center of the confused, curious, and guarded gazes.
My pulsing heartbeat skitters when the man in the wheelchair rolls forward and stops in front of me.
“I’m Connor King.” He offers me his hand, which unlike mine, isn’t freezing. “I… I don’t know what to say. You sure about Lukas Spencer?” He tilts his head toward the waiting room door.
I open my small handbag, and suddenly all the men go on alert.
“What?” I let go of a sigh. “Do I look like someone who’d carry a weapon?”
I don’t know how weapon-carrying people look, but I’m sure they don’t dress in white cashmere pullover and black jeans.
The grim lines of their lips disappear for a second as I hand my wedding certificate and Lukas’ dog tag to Connor.
“I’m in the right place,” I confirm.
“You’ve been married for four fucking years?” Connor grunts in a gruff voice. “How the fuck is that possible? This is dated three months before Lukas joined Kings Security.”
“He’s been living in St. Peppers for four years?” My heart squeezes as I realize he not only lied to his colleagues but to me too.
“Would you mind if I see him first?” Connor asks after a few seconds. “As much as I’m pissed off with Spencer right now, I’d like to know if he remembers something about the incident. Whoever did this needs to pay.”
Time drags by at a snail’s pace. There’s a clock on the wall, which hasn’t changed time in what seems like forever. I wonder who thought to put a clock in the hospital waiting room. This is the worst place for it.
I’m playing with my ring, still nervous and anxious, with numerous questions running through my head, when my phone vibrates.
“Autumn, we just got a call from Mr. Big.”
A touch of relief hits me upon hearing my father’s familiar voice.
I take a deep breath. “Hi, Dad.”
“How’s Lukas?”
“I haven’t seen him yet, but he’s out of surgery and the doctor said he’ll be fine.”
“How are you holding up, tums?”
“I’m…okay. I just didn’t expect this.” I tuck my hand under my thigh to prevent it from shaking, but it isn’t successful. The onslaught of emotion—worry, confusion, hurt—is hard.
“I know, sweetheart. Do you know what he was doing in St. Peppers?” Dad asks carefully.
“He works here.”
“Really? For how long?” His voice rises a notch in disbelief.