Something Unexpected by Vi Keeland
CHAPTER 16
Nora
“WHAT ARE YOUdoing?”
Beck sat on the chair next to the bed, staring at me. “Watching you sleep.”
I pulled up the covers. “That’s creepy, Cross.”
His lip twitched. “How did you sleep?”
I thought about it. I felt pretty well rested. But oh shit—we needed to get back to the hospital. I pushed up to my elbows. “What time is it?”
“Nine.”
My brows pinched. “In the morning?”
Beck looked amused. “Yes. Nine in the morning.”
“On Saturday?”
“Yes, on Saturday.”
“So I only slept what, two or three hours?”
He shrugged. “About that.”
“But I feel so rested, like I slept a full night.”
A cocky smile curved Beck’s lips. “Must’ve been the snuggling.”
I rolled my eyes, but I wondered if he was right. Though there were two problems with admitting that. One, I’d be admitting Beck was right, and two, I’d be admitting I was wrong.
So I sat up and stretched. “Did you already shower?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“Alright. I’ll just take a quick one to wake up, but I won’t wash my hair, so I can be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Take your time. I have a conference call in ten minutes that will probably run a half hour.”
Back in my room, I went straight to the bathroom. I was horrified by what stared at me in the mirror.
“Oh my God,” I mumbled. And here I was thinking he’d been admiring me while I slept. He was probably wondering who the lunatic in his bed was. I’d gone to his room with wet hair, so it had dried on its own, which meant it was sticking up all over the place now. A line of dried drool streaked from my mouth to my neck, and while I’d woken feeling rested, my puffy, red eyes told another story.
I groaned and twisted the hot water on in the shower. I’d need to be even quicker than usual so I could lay a cold rag over my swollen eyes for a few minutes. As soon as I hit the water, my brain woke up and fired off questions.
What the hell did you do—having sex with Beck?
What were you thinking?
Can’t you control yourself?
You have a vibrator in your suitcase, for God’s sake. Why didn’t you use that?
All excellent questions, and I didn’t have an answer for a single one of them.
But my stomach did a little somersault when I thought back to what had happened.
“On your knees.”
“Lick it.”
And when I’d told him not to stop…
“Not a fucking chance, baby.”
Oh God. This was the last thing I needed to be thinking about right now. What I needed was coffee.
Lotsof coffee.
I got out of the shower to get dressed, but a knock at my hotel-room door stopped me. Pulling on the hotel robe, I took a quick peek through the peephole to find an employee with a rolling cart. I hadn’t ordered any room service.
I opened the door and smiled. “Hi. I think you have the wrong room. I didn’t order anything.”
The cart was set beautifully, with white linens, a bouquet of gorgeous hot pink flowers, a covered silver platter, orange juice, newspapers, and what smelled like a pot of delicious coffee. I was tempted to change my tune and bring that sucker inside.
The waiter lifted the padfolio from the table and opened it. “Are you Ms. Sutton?”
“Yes?”
“The order was placed by Mr. Cross in room three fifteen. He gave specific instructions not to deliver it to his room but yours.”
“Oh.” I stepped aside. “Well, then...”
The waiter rolled the cart into my room. I dug out some cash for a tip, but he waved a hand. “It’s already been taken care of.”
“Oh. Okay, thank you.”
This was a really nice hotel, but I still couldn’t get over how gorgeous everything was on the cart. The flowers had to have cost more than the meal. The setup was Instagram worthy.
“Would you like me to make your coffee?” the waiter asked.
“No, I’m good.” I smiled. “I can handle that, even before caffeine.”
He did a little bow. “Very well. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
He was halfway out my door when I stopped him. “Excuse me?”
He turned back. “Yes?”
I motioned to the breakfast cart. “Is this how all room service is delivered? With a big bouquet of flowers and all these newspapers?”
The waiter smiled. “No, ma’am. Just yours.”
My brows dipped down. “Why just mine?”
“The gentleman who placed the order had the concierge get the flowers and papers. He specified pink only.”
I nodded slowly. “Pink only?”
“Hot pink, actually.”
“Really? Do you know when the order was placed?”
The waiter slipped the padfolio from his inside pocket. “Looks like it was placed at six forty-five. Probably took the concierge a while to find a florist open so early.”
I had no idea what to make of that information, so I just nodded. “Okay. Thank you again.”
Once I was alone, I checked out what was underneath the covered platter—eggs benedict and fresh fruit. I salivated. Then I got a whiff of the flowers and leaned down to get the full effect, still amazed at the trouble Beck had gone to. I heard talking next door, so it sounded like he was still on his call, but I figured the least I could do to show my appreciation was bring him some caffeine. I made two mugs, sipped one, and headed next door with his in hand.
Beck sat at the desk, his laptop open and voices chatting away, but his eyes raked down my body as I stepped inside. They took their time making their way back up, and I silently reprimanded myself for not looking in the mirror before I’d come in.
Even the way he watched me deliver his coffee gave off a dominant vibe, the same way he’d been in bed. His eyes followed my every step, yet his head never moved. It made goosebumps break out on my arms.
I set the coffee to the side of his laptop, careful to keep out of the camera’s view. The entire time, Beck remained cool and restrained—eyes following me, yet never displaying any expression on camera. So I couldn’t help myself. It seemed like a silent challenge.
When I got back to the doorway, I untied the belt to my robe and turned back, opening it wide to flash my birthday suit underneath.
That did it.
Beck’s control snapped. His eyes went wide, and a giant smile broke out on his face as he shook his head.
Satisfied that he wasn’t always the one in control, I walked back to my room with a bit more swagger in my step.
***
“Oh my God. You’re awake…”
Louise surprised us both when we walked into the ICU ward an hour later. She looked a thousand times better than when we’d left a few hours ago. Relief made me choked up, and I went to her bedside and hugged her. Beck did the same.
“Did you think I was going to miss Harry?”
Beck looked to me.
“We got Harry Styles tickets for next Friday night. Third row floor seats. He’s playing in New York. We’re going to fly home to see it.”
“Harry Styles? Seriously? Isn’t he for teenagers?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Harry Styles is for everyone.”
Beck shrugged and looked at Louise. “How do you feel?”
“I feel like getting out of here, that’s how I feel.”
He glanced back to me. “Yep. She’s feeling better.”
A few minutes later, a group of doctors came in. One of them was the neurologist from yesterday, Dr. Cornelius.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
He typed something into his iPad, smiled, and motioned to Louise. “How are you feeling, Ms. Aster?”
“Great. I’m ready to check out.”
Dr. Cornelius turned to us. “Normally I like to ask the family if the patient seems like themself. It’s actually an important part of my neurological exam. But something tells me the answer to that is yes.”
Beck smirked. “Most definitely.”
“That’s a good sign. I came in to check on Ms. Aster about an hour ago when the nurses told me she was awake. We discussed what had transpired and spoke a little about her condition. But I’m not an oncologist, so I wanted to speak to her doctors in New York and consult with my colleagues here before we discussed a treatment plan.”
Beck nodded. “Okay…”
“Ms. Aster has expressed that she’s made the decision to enjoy the final phase of her life, rather than spend it getting chemo and radiation that will only extend her life so long, and at a cost of the quality of her days.”
“I don’t necessarily agree with that,” Beck said. “But it’s her choice.”
Dr. Cornelius nodded. “When we’re dealing with terminal illness, I normally accept the wishes of the patient without question. However, in my opinion, the tumor pushing on the carotid artery is likely to cause another stroke if left untreated—sooner rather than later.”
“How soon?” Louise asked.
The doctor shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was only a matter of days. Weeks at best. The blood thinners are only a very short-term Band-Aid.”
“Is there anything noninvasive that can be done?” I asked.
Dr. Cornelius looked to Louise. “I spoke to your oncologist in New York, Dr. Ludlow. He believes a short regimen of radiation would be best. Taking into consideration your wishes not to undergo further treatment that would interfere with your quality of life, he recommends just two weeks of radiation, approximately ten sessions. The majority of tumors shrink during the first few weeks, while causing the least amount of side effects. We can’t say definitively that it will work, or how long it might buy you until the tumor grows large enough to cause a problem again, but Dr. Ludlow believes it should shrink enough in ten sessions that it would be at least three to six months before it becomes an issue.”
Louise sighed. “The radiation made me so tired last time, I couldn’t get out of bed.”
“Yes,” Beck added. “But you were doing chemo at the same time. This would only be radiation, correct?”
“That’s right.” Dr. Cornelius nodded. “Your oncologist wouldn’t be trying to cure the disease; he’d only be trying to make living through it more manageable, so you could have more time to live your life while you’re feeling good.”
“I don’t know…” Louise said. She looked to me. “What do you think?”
I felt Beck’s eyes on me, but tried to ignore the influence. “I think it’s a decision you should consider carefully.”
Louise shrugged. “I need to think about it.”
“Of course.” The doctor nodded. “But like I said, the blood thinners are only a temporary fix. So it’s best not to take too long.”
The doctors stayed another ten minutes, examining Louise’s eyes and strength. She was able to grip the doctor’s fingers with both hands, but one side was noticeably weaker than the other. When they were done, Dr. Cornelius asked if we had any questions.
“How long does she need to stay in the hospital here, barring any further episodes?” Beck asked. “You said it could be only a matter of days before another stroke, so I’d like to get her back to New York to start treatment.”
Louise pursed her lips. “If I start treatment.”
Beck ignored her. “How fast could we get her on a plane?”
“I’d like to monitor her today and try to get Ms. Aster up and around this afternoon. How about if we discuss that during evening rounds?”
“Okay. Great.”
Louise pulled the covers off and started to swing her legs over the side of the bed.
“Whoa—hang on there,” Dr. Cornelius said. “You need a nurse and someone from PT to get up. Probably a walker to start, too.”
I winced at the word walker, knowing what was about to come. And it did.
“I don’t need any damn walker. I can’t help but get older, but I’m far from old, son. Just dying. I’ll be fine on my own.”
The doctor tried to hide his smile. “How about we compromise and have the nurse and PT help you without a walker?”
“Fine.”
Beck shook his head as the medical team left Louise’s room. “He’s just looking out for you. It won’t kill you to humor him and use the walker for a few minutes to make sure you’re okay on your feet. You don’t always have to be in charge.”
“Oh really? When was the last time you let someone be in charge?”
I grinned. The more time I spent with these two, the more I realized how much they were alike.
Beck scowled at me. “What are you smiling at?”
My mouth split wider. “Who me? I’m not smiling.”
He grumbled something under his breath. After that, a nurse came in, and Louise asked for coffee.
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “Only decaf today.”
“That’s like showering while wearing a raincoat. Pointless.”
Yep. Louise is just fine. At least for the time being.
A few hours went by, and then a guy in blue scrubs knocked on the door. He was probably only about twenty-five and really cute. He smiled. “I’m Evan from physical therapy. You ready to rock the road, Ms. Aster?”
“Sure am.” Louise again lifted the covers off her legs.
Evan held his hands up. “Hang on one minute. We need to have two people, one on each side. I’m going to grab a nurse.”
“I don’t need two people.”
“Oh, you definitely don’t. I can see that. But it’s a dumb hospital policy, and it’ll keep me out of trouble.” He winked at Beck and me on the way out. Young, but already knew how to manage people.
“He has her number,” I whispered to Beck.
“Must have read the troublemaker note in her chart.”
“I heard that!” Louise yelled.
After she finished walking the halls—proving not only that she didn’t need a walker, but not the people beside her either—they took her down for a repeat scan to make sure things hadn’t changed. Beck and I went to the cafeteria for some lunch, since they said she’d be about an hour. Our table had one sad-looking carnation in a dollar-store vase sitting in the middle. But it reminded me of the flowers on my tray at breakfast.
“Thank you for the room service this morning.”
Beck gave a curt nod. “Of course.”
“Oh…of course, huh? I get it now. The fancy breakfast is a go-to move after spending the night with a woman.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Did I get the Beck Cross special? Is the order always the same? Eggs benedict, coffee, juice, fancy flowers, and a few newspapers… Do you order in when you’re not at a hotel? Is it a standard order you have set up on an app and you just hit re-order? Oh, and do you always find out their favorite color beforehand to give it that personalized touch?”
Beck tilted his head. “What am I missing here?”
I pushed my salad around with my fork. “The flowers you sent this morning were gorgeous. And my favorite color.”
“So?”
“I’m just saying, it’s a smooth move. I bet the women melt the next morning.”
“What women?”
“The ones you have breakfast delivered to with their favorite-color flowers.”
Beck looked flummoxed. “Did you hit your head?”
I rolled my eyes. “Forget it. But thank you for the flowers anyway. They were beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. Just so you know, I sent you flowers because you came into my room wanting to forget life for a little while. I figured that meant you were feeling down, and you said hot pink helps your mood.” He paused and caught my eyes. “It’s not my go-to move, as you called it. It was only for you.”
My belly did a little whoosh. Who knew Beck could be so sweet?
While I attempted not to let his answer affect me, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “I would have preferred to feed you my cock again this morning to improve your mood, but I thought you needed your sleep.” He winked. “Eggs. Next best thing.”
And…the real Beck is back.
Since the whoosh had dropped lower than my belly now, I thought it time for a change of subject.
“I don’t think you should push Louise into getting the radiation.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I think she’s going to get there on her own. But if she doesn’t, the last thing she needs is to feel guilty for possibly robbing you of more time with her.”
Beck’s face changed. It looked like I’d shot an arrow and made a direct hit to his heart. “That’s how she feels?”
“She doesn’t say it in so many words, but yes. It took a lot for her to come to the decision to put herself first. She’s spent fifty years of her life raising a family—first your mom, and then you and your brother. I know she wouldn’t change that for anything, but this is what she wants, Beck.”
Tears filled his eyes. He nodded. “Okay.”
He was quiet through the rest of lunch. And he stayed that way until Dr. Cornelius came back at four o’clock in the afternoon.
“I heard you’re ready to run the NYC marathon,” he said as he entered.
“Not quite.” Louise smiled. “But I am ready for a Harry Styles concert.”
Dr. Cornelius sat on the edge of her bed. He took Louise’s hand. “So, have you given any thought to the treatment plan your doctor in New York suggested?”
She looked up at Beck. “I’ll try it, but if I feel sick or it’s making me too exhausted to live, I’m going to stop. I quit treatment to live out the end of my life, and that’s what I intend to do—whether it’s three days or three months.”
Beck turned to Dr. Cornelius. “How soon can I get her on a plane to New York?”
“I’ll discharge her into your care as soon as you can make arrangements.” He pointed at Louise. “But you need to go directly to the hospital in New York and let them admit you for continued monitoring. Do not pass go and collect two-hundred dollars—go directly to the hospital from the airport. Then it’s up to your oncologist to decide whether the radiation can be done inpatient or out.”
“Fine,” Louise said.
Beck took out his phone. “I’ll take care of the arrangements and make sure she goes right to the hospital once we land.”
Four-and-a-half hours later, we boarded a flight to New York. Beck had set up one of those motorized carts to take us from security to the gate. Louise was weak, and by the time we took off, she was already sound asleep next to him.
I sat across the aisle from them. I leaned over and whispered, “Thank you for buying my ticket home. You didn’t have to.” I smiled. “If I was paying, I’d be sitting back in the squishy seats instead of this comfy first class.”
“No problem. And thank you for taking such good care of my grandmother while she was sick.”
I nodded. “I’d do anything for Louise.”
Beck looked back and forth between my eyes. “I know you would.”
“I was thinking, when we get back, I’m sure you have to work, and you must have your daughter on certain days, so why don’t we plan to take shifts keeping an eye on Louise? Whether she’s in the hospital or not, I’d like to be there.”
Beck smiled sadly. “That would be great. Thank you. You’re a really good friend to her.”
“It works both ways. She gives more than she gets.”
He held my eyes again, but didn’t respond.
“As long as we’re having a moment of being nice to each other and saying thank you—which may not last with us—I want to say thank you for this morning. I needed that more than you could know.”
“Anytime.”
I looked down at his crotch and sighed. He seriously had the sexiest bulge in those dress pants. “As tempting as the prospect of another round or two might be, I think it was just a one-time thing. I hope you understand.”
He grinned. “We’ll see.”
