The Bride Wore Size 12
Page 64
Now I know why he called everyone but me. He can barely speak because of the size of the gash in his lip. His speech is garbled, the way someone whose mouth has been shot up with novacaine sounds. I’d have known instantly something was wrong and rushed to him, just as I do now.
I wrap both arms around him, taking over for Sammy. It’s only when Cooper winces that I realize he must have a cracked rib or two as well.
“My God,” I say, my heart pounding against his. “What happened?”
Cooper kisses the top of my head and whispers, “It’s a long story. I’m just glad you’re safe. I heard about what happened to the reporter.” His arms tighten around me. “Thank God it wasn’t you.”
But it was me. It was my fault, anyway.
And carrying around a gun isn’t going to change that, or make it right, whatever Cooper might think.
Now obviously isn’t the time to tell him this, however.
Nicole is even more upset about her big brother’s condition than I am—or at least she’s more dramatic about it. As soon as she sees his injuries, she shrieks, and flings herself at Cooper with as much passion as Lucy, only Nicole’s tongue isn’t hanging out and she isn’t wagging her tail.
Unfortunately, Cooper can’t nudge his sister away with his cast as easily as he was able to nudge the dog.
“Were you in a car accident?” Nicole wails. “Was anyone else hurt? Were there fatalities?”
“No one else was hurt,” Sammy the Schnozz says, trying to take some semblance of control of the situation. “Some kid was texting and rear-ended him, is all. Kid is fine, Coop is fine. Give the man some room, okay, ladies, whaddaya say?”
Sammy, who is a pawnbroker, speaks with a strong New York accent and is easily able to command a room, a must when dealing with what are probably stolen goods and hysterical twentysomethings like Nicole.
“Of course,” Nicole says, backing off immediately. “Is there anything we can do? Tea? Jessica, go make some tea.”
“Tea?” Jessica looks at her sister as if she’s gone insane. “When the hell has Cooper ever drunk tea? No one wants tea. How about a real drink? Anyone? I’ve got some Key West lemonade already poured.”
“Lemonade,” Cooper says. “Mmm.”
I can tell that Cooper is on painkillers, and also that Sammy is lying. I know injuries sustained in an accident from a fistfight when I see one. At Fischer Hall, roommate conflicts between girls result in nasty notes left on refrigerators and bathroom mirrors and social media pages. Roommate conflicts between boys result in fat lips and bruises exactly like the one blooming under Cooper’s eye.
What happened to his foot, I can’t even begin to imagine, but I know it’s not from any fender bender. This is bad. Really bad.
I don’t know how bad until Cooper looks down at me, smiles crookedly (thank God he still seems to have all his teeth), and says, “Sure, I’ll take a lemonade, Jess. And sorry I didn’t call, honey. I was a little tied up.”
He giggles. Cooper, who never giggles.
“But Heather,” I hear Nicole protest. “You told me Cooper did call—”
“Shut up, Nicole,” I snap. Her eyes widen with hurt feelings, but I’m in no mood to apologize. I’m too busy checking her brother’s wrists for rope burns, thinking he must literally have been tied up to be giggling like that at his own joke. I don’t notice anything unusual, however. Just his poor, battered, gorgeous face.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Cooper asks, nuzzling my ear. “You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the world.” It’s hard to make out what he’s saying because of his fat lip, but the gist is there.
“Oh my God,” Jessica says with a horse laugh. “Screw the drinks. What’s he on? I want some.”
Unnerved, I say firmly, “No drinks. In fact, girls, I think it’s time you both went home. I need to get Cooper to bed.”
Nicole is still looking hurt. “But he’s our brother. We want to help.”
“No need. I’ve got him,” Virgin Hal says with a sigh, stepping forward from the hallway where he’s been lurking. He crosses toward us with so much deliberation that I realize he’s been waiting for this: he’s known all along that Cooper was hurt, and hadn’t told me.
I’m furious.
“Oh, hey, Hal,” Cooper says, delighted to see him. “How’s it going?”
“Better for you right now than me, old friend,” Hal says, and bends down to lift my fiancé as gently as if he’s lifting a child. Then he begins to carry Cooper up the stairs—not without some groaning on Cooper’s part, as his cracked ribs are pressed the wrong way, and some grunting on Hal’s part. Huge as Hal is, Cooper isn’t exactly a small guy.
“What floor, Heather?” Hal asks, his voice strained.
“Second is fine,” I say, though Cooper has been spending all his time in my apartment on the third floor since we got engaged. It would serve both of them right if I made them go up another floor. “There’s a bedroom on the left.”
“Thank God,” Hal says, staggering a little.
Nicole and Jessica stand at the bottom of the stairwell in the foyer, craning their necks to watch Hal carry their brother up the steps. It’s an impressive sight, and for once the two of them have been stunned into blessed silence.
Sammy the Schnozz, meanwhile, pulls a messy wad of official-looking forms from the pocket of his khaki pants and hands them to me.
“These are from the hospital,” he says somewhat apologetically. “It’s a simple fracture of the right tibia, they said. In English that means he has a broken ankle. A broken rib too. His face is just bruised. He should be fine in time for the wedding, I swear.”
“What really happened to him?” I demand. “I know it wasn’t a car accident, Sammy. And don’t say he came by that shiner while investigating a case of insurance fraud, either.”
Sammy glances at Nicole and Jessica. “Uh. Yeah. I better let him explain that to you.”
Stupid guy code.
“Anyway, he’s got an appointment to see the doctor again on Monday,” Sammy goes on rapidly, perhaps after seeing my face. “Until then he’s supposed to rest and take acetaminophen only, not aspirin, as it impedes healing or something? Who knew? There’s a prescription for some stronger stuff in there too, though they doped him pretty good at the hospital. He’ll probably need to take more later. Oh, and there’s a prescription for crutches too. You’ll need to pick some up for him. They were out of them at the hospital. They said there’s a twenty-four-hour medical supply place over in Chelsea.”
I wrap both arms around him, taking over for Sammy. It’s only when Cooper winces that I realize he must have a cracked rib or two as well.
“My God,” I say, my heart pounding against his. “What happened?”
Cooper kisses the top of my head and whispers, “It’s a long story. I’m just glad you’re safe. I heard about what happened to the reporter.” His arms tighten around me. “Thank God it wasn’t you.”
But it was me. It was my fault, anyway.
And carrying around a gun isn’t going to change that, or make it right, whatever Cooper might think.
Now obviously isn’t the time to tell him this, however.
Nicole is even more upset about her big brother’s condition than I am—or at least she’s more dramatic about it. As soon as she sees his injuries, she shrieks, and flings herself at Cooper with as much passion as Lucy, only Nicole’s tongue isn’t hanging out and she isn’t wagging her tail.
Unfortunately, Cooper can’t nudge his sister away with his cast as easily as he was able to nudge the dog.
“Were you in a car accident?” Nicole wails. “Was anyone else hurt? Were there fatalities?”
“No one else was hurt,” Sammy the Schnozz says, trying to take some semblance of control of the situation. “Some kid was texting and rear-ended him, is all. Kid is fine, Coop is fine. Give the man some room, okay, ladies, whaddaya say?”
Sammy, who is a pawnbroker, speaks with a strong New York accent and is easily able to command a room, a must when dealing with what are probably stolen goods and hysterical twentysomethings like Nicole.
“Of course,” Nicole says, backing off immediately. “Is there anything we can do? Tea? Jessica, go make some tea.”
“Tea?” Jessica looks at her sister as if she’s gone insane. “When the hell has Cooper ever drunk tea? No one wants tea. How about a real drink? Anyone? I’ve got some Key West lemonade already poured.”
“Lemonade,” Cooper says. “Mmm.”
I can tell that Cooper is on painkillers, and also that Sammy is lying. I know injuries sustained in an accident from a fistfight when I see one. At Fischer Hall, roommate conflicts between girls result in nasty notes left on refrigerators and bathroom mirrors and social media pages. Roommate conflicts between boys result in fat lips and bruises exactly like the one blooming under Cooper’s eye.
What happened to his foot, I can’t even begin to imagine, but I know it’s not from any fender bender. This is bad. Really bad.
I don’t know how bad until Cooper looks down at me, smiles crookedly (thank God he still seems to have all his teeth), and says, “Sure, I’ll take a lemonade, Jess. And sorry I didn’t call, honey. I was a little tied up.”
He giggles. Cooper, who never giggles.
“But Heather,” I hear Nicole protest. “You told me Cooper did call—”
“Shut up, Nicole,” I snap. Her eyes widen with hurt feelings, but I’m in no mood to apologize. I’m too busy checking her brother’s wrists for rope burns, thinking he must literally have been tied up to be giggling like that at his own joke. I don’t notice anything unusual, however. Just his poor, battered, gorgeous face.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Cooper asks, nuzzling my ear. “You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the world.” It’s hard to make out what he’s saying because of his fat lip, but the gist is there.
“Oh my God,” Jessica says with a horse laugh. “Screw the drinks. What’s he on? I want some.”
Unnerved, I say firmly, “No drinks. In fact, girls, I think it’s time you both went home. I need to get Cooper to bed.”
Nicole is still looking hurt. “But he’s our brother. We want to help.”
“No need. I’ve got him,” Virgin Hal says with a sigh, stepping forward from the hallway where he’s been lurking. He crosses toward us with so much deliberation that I realize he’s been waiting for this: he’s known all along that Cooper was hurt, and hadn’t told me.
I’m furious.
“Oh, hey, Hal,” Cooper says, delighted to see him. “How’s it going?”
“Better for you right now than me, old friend,” Hal says, and bends down to lift my fiancé as gently as if he’s lifting a child. Then he begins to carry Cooper up the stairs—not without some groaning on Cooper’s part, as his cracked ribs are pressed the wrong way, and some grunting on Hal’s part. Huge as Hal is, Cooper isn’t exactly a small guy.
“What floor, Heather?” Hal asks, his voice strained.
“Second is fine,” I say, though Cooper has been spending all his time in my apartment on the third floor since we got engaged. It would serve both of them right if I made them go up another floor. “There’s a bedroom on the left.”
“Thank God,” Hal says, staggering a little.
Nicole and Jessica stand at the bottom of the stairwell in the foyer, craning their necks to watch Hal carry their brother up the steps. It’s an impressive sight, and for once the two of them have been stunned into blessed silence.
Sammy the Schnozz, meanwhile, pulls a messy wad of official-looking forms from the pocket of his khaki pants and hands them to me.
“These are from the hospital,” he says somewhat apologetically. “It’s a simple fracture of the right tibia, they said. In English that means he has a broken ankle. A broken rib too. His face is just bruised. He should be fine in time for the wedding, I swear.”
“What really happened to him?” I demand. “I know it wasn’t a car accident, Sammy. And don’t say he came by that shiner while investigating a case of insurance fraud, either.”
Sammy glances at Nicole and Jessica. “Uh. Yeah. I better let him explain that to you.”
Stupid guy code.
“Anyway, he’s got an appointment to see the doctor again on Monday,” Sammy goes on rapidly, perhaps after seeing my face. “Until then he’s supposed to rest and take acetaminophen only, not aspirin, as it impedes healing or something? Who knew? There’s a prescription for some stronger stuff in there too, though they doped him pretty good at the hospital. He’ll probably need to take more later. Oh, and there’s a prescription for crutches too. You’ll need to pick some up for him. They were out of them at the hospital. They said there’s a twenty-four-hour medical supply place over in Chelsea.”
