Diana nods and looks away, as though she somehow understands, when there is no way she could. I see the cheap worn shoes, the rough unpolished nails. Diana is one of the lucky ones, the ones that think money solves everything when more often than not, they have the sort of happiness I can only dream of. A happy family, a fulfilling life, dreams of their own, a path of their own choosing.
“Since we’re both on the run… let’s run from negativity. Tell me three good things that happened to you today?” she asks, startling me out of my thoughts.
I stare at her, my eyes widening. That question… it sounds familiar, yet I can’t place it. It feels nostalgic somehow, something from my childhood, maybe? I smile at her and shake the thoughts away.
“Well, I finally closed a deal I’ve been working on for months. I took my mom out for our weekly lunch date today and we managed to have a good talk… and I met you .”
Diana smiles, but her eyes tell a different story. A story of understanding tinged with longing. She looks down at her lap and nods.
“Hmm, sounds like a perfect day,” she murmurs as I finish my champagne. A waiter appears seemingly out of nowhere to top up my glass, startling both of us. I hand Diana a glass of champagne, and she smiles at me.
“Being Alexander Kennedy certainly does have its perks,” she says. “I’ve never had anyone come take my order here,” she adds, nudging me with her shoulder.
I chuckle, I can’t help it. She’s not pretentious, like so many others. I’ve gotten so used to the entitlement that surrounds me that her relaxed attitude surprises me.
Diana and I stare at the Manhattan skyline, both of us perfectly comfortable. I can’t even remember the last time I sat next to a woman that didn’t chat my ear off, and I’m finding this oddly peaceful, despite the noise surrounding us.
“Hey, if you could have one wish, what would it be?” Diana asks, surprising me yet again.
I stare at her blankly. “I have to admit that no one has ever asked me that question before.”
She laughs, her face tipped up, her eyes on the stars in the sky. She’s beautiful, and she looks so incredibly sweet. Far too sweet for a man like me.
“That isn’t an answer,” she says. “You’re not getting out of this one.”
I laugh and take a big swig of my champagne, lost in thought for a moment. “I’d wish for genuine happiness, Diana,” I tell her honestly. For a while, I thought I had the happiness I craved, but I was proven wrong. I shake my head, feeling lost for just a single moment. “What about you?” I ask, my voice soft.
She smiles, but her smile is bittersweet. “Health,” she says. “Good health for everyone I love.”
Health. Money can buy almost anything, but it can’t buy good health. Even if she were to ask me for something like so many other women brazenly do, this isn’t something I can give her.
I sigh and lean back in my seat, my eyes tracing over her. “Since we’re both running from something, why don’t we run together? At least for tonight.”
I offer her my hand, and she takes it. I pull Diana to her feet, and she stumbles in her high heels. I catch her, my hands on her waist.
“Care for a dance, Diana?”
She laughs, and the sound courses through my body as she leans back in my arms. “Here?” she asks, looking around the tiny area we’re hiding out in.
“Why not?”
I pull her closer until I’ve got her body flush against mine. She fits against me perfectly.
Diana and I sway to an old Ed Sheeran song, both of us humming along. I can’t remember the last time I found myself smiling, doing something this silly. I can’t remember the last time a woman actually made my heart race without being on her knees in front of me. Diana… she’s something special.
“God, we both can’t dance for shit,” Diana says, laughing as I twirl her around again. She giggles when I pull her back to me, her arms moving to my neck.
“We? Speak for yourself, lady. I’m killing it,” I say, swaying my hips badly out of tune. Diana bursts out laughing, and I drop my forehead to hers, enjoying this moment with her. When was the last time I laughed like this? I didn’t even plan on coming here tonight, but damn, I’m glad I did.
My hands move to her waist, and I pull her closer until I’ve got every inch of her body flush against mine. She looks up at me, a sweet smile on her face. I look into her eyes, unable to shake the feeling that I’ve seen these eyes before, yet, they’re perfectly unique.
“Are you sure we’ve never met before?” I ask her, my eyes falling to her lips.
She smiles and pushes away from me a little. “I thought you said you’d definitely remember me if we had?”
I take a step closer to her, bridging the distance she just created. Her hands move back to my neck while mine roam over her body, settling on her hips.
“Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t forget you, Diana.”
I lean in and brush my nose against hers before moving away again. “I’d like to ask you if you want to get out of here, but your phone has been ringing non-stop. It seems quite urgent,” I say, tipping my head toward the table behind us. Diana turns around to find her phone screen lit up, and the look in her eyes can only be described as dread.
I let go of her as she checks her missed calls, and my heart sinks when she smiles at me apologetically.
“I need to go,” she says, her voice breaking.
“At least give me your number.”
Diana shakes her head, flustered. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alec. But it was good to see you. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
I freeze and stare at her in disbelief. Less than a handful of people call me Alec, and never in public. She’d have to be close to my family to know my nickname. “What did you call me?” I ask, anger running through my veins.
“I’m sorry. I have to go,” she says, her voice tinged with regret. She grabs her phone and purse before dashing past me.
I’m tempted to follow her and demand an explanation.
But I don’t.
Chapter 3
E lena
The nurse that usually takes care of my mother greets me warmly as I walk into her hospital room. “Happy birthday, sweetie. I wish we didn’t have to call you tonight. You deserve to act your age every once in a while, but you know what Dr. Johnson is like.”
“Thank you, June,” I say, trying my best to smile at her as I sit down next to my mother.
Dr. Johnson doesn’t believe in keeping my mother here when he could be using her bed for a patient that he might be able to save, but he can’t turn me away either. Not while I’m still able to pay the bills.
Eight years. My mother has been in a coma for eight years now, and I’m the only one who still believes she’ll wake up one day. I can’t help but feel like it’s a race against the clock. It’s become a question of what will run out first, the money that keeps her alive, or my mother’s remaining health.
The doctor walks into the room and nods at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man smile. “Dr. Johnson,” I say, nodding back.
“I have some difficult news to share with you,” he says, a grave expression on his face. I close my eyes, not wishing to hear it. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“Your mother has an infection. It’s getting harder and harder to keep her state from deteriorating. There are many costs associated with the ongoing infections, too.”
I nod, knowing what he’s going to say. “I understand, doctor. But I’m not willing to give up on my mother. I still believe she’s going to wake up. I’ll pay whatever I need to keep her alive.”
Dr. Johnson nods, and I hate the pity I see in his eyes. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe she’ll ever wake up again, and I wish I could change my mother’s doctor. I want her to be treated by someone who believes in her recovery as much as I do.
“Please sign here. I’ll send you the bill. It’s higher this month by a couple of thousand dollars,” he says eventually.
I sign the forms, authorizing her treatment and the associated costs, my eyes falling closed in resignation the second I lift the pen off the paper.
I’m relieved when I hear Dr. Johnson close the door behind him. Five thousand dollars. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have blinked twice at the amount. I used to own several handbags at least four times the price of that. Not anymore.
A year after my mother fell into a coma, my father managed to get her doctors to declare her brain-dead so he could get remarried. The day he married my stepmother was the day our insurance company informed me they’d stop paying for my mother’s treatments. I didn’t think much of it then, being a Rousseau, but I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the signs before it was too late.