She grimaced, caught off guard and not at all
pleased. She’d already mentally cataloged all the reasons why even thinking of
Emily in that way was a bad idea, and being reminded that her head did not rule
her body only made the unruly physical urges more aggravating. She wasn’t going
to be able to sleep until she banished the persistent craving for a woman she
didn’t want to want. A walk in the brisk dark and a diversion of a more
familiar type might refocus her interest in a safer direction.
Hunching her shoulders inside the light wool
blazer she’d tossed on to accompany Emily downstairs, she headed toward Midtown
and the metrosexual club she remembered from her last visit. If Cosmos wasn’t
there any longer, she could surely find another without any difficulty. New
York never slept, after all, and New Yorkers were notoriously adventurous and
nonjudgmental, at least where sex was concerned.
As she strode quickly through the still busy
streets, dodging puddles and the occasional slush pile left over from the late
snow, she contemplated calling the hospital to check on Henrietta. After
eleven. Surely if there was some change, some problem, someone would’ve
contacted her by now. What the hell. The time didn’t really matter—hospitals
ran twenty-four seven. Skirting between cabs crowding across the intersection,
she pulled out her cell phone and scrolled to the number she’d saved earlier.
After half a dozen rings, the hospital operator answered and sent her through
to the intensive care unit.
“ICU, Higgins,” a man said.
“This is Derian Winfield. I was wondering if
you could give me an update on my aunt’s condition. Henrietta?”
“Hold on for a second.”
A little more than a second later, a woman
came on the line. “Hi, this is Sally, Henrietta’s nurse. Who is this, please?”
“Derian Winfield. Henrietta’s my aunt.”
“Oh, right, Penny mentioned you earlier.
She’s fine. All her vital signs are stable, her lab results look good, and
she’s resting comfortably.”
Derian wondered how they knew if Henrietta
was resting, comfortably or otherwise. If Henrietta had any say in things,
she’d be half-awake at all times, just to be sure everyone was keeping on
track. “Has she been alert, talking?”
“Every now and then she surfaces for a few seconds—a
minute, maybe—and she knows where she is. But it’s not unusual for patients
who’ve sustained this kind of physical insult to kind of draw back inside. It’s
part of the healing process. It’s perfectly normal.”
“Uh-huh.” Derian would have preferred hearing
HW was haranguing the staff and causing a fuss, but she knew it was too soon.
Her desire to make the whole damn nightmare go away wasn’t going to be enough
to make it so. “Thanks. You’ll be sure someone will call me if there’s any
change?”