Almost as painful as the throbbing ankle was the awkward conversation with Edouardo in the car. That man was not one for chitchat.
“So,” Sawyer said, twiddling his thumbs in the passenger seat, hoping that he could steer the discussion away from himself and onto more neutral territory, “how’d the date go with Gabriella last night?”
Edouardo turned and glared at him. “Look. Let’s dispense with the formalities. What the hell were you doing hooking up with Isabella at my house?”
Clearly this chat wasn’t quite starting off on the right foot.
“If you must know, we had some things to discuss.”
“Yeah, but you were on a date with Gabriella’s friend. How did you get from a blind date to surprise hookup?”
“How do you know it was a surprise? For that matter, how do you know it was a hookup?”
Edouardo’s brows furrowed in a do you think I look stupid sort of way. “Because I know my sister and Isabella were going out to dinner together last night. And there’s no reason that the two of you would have planned to end up together at my house.”
Sawyer scrubbed his face with his hands. His ankle hurt like a sonofabitch and he really didn’t feel like dealing with the third degree from this hothead.
“Look, I’m sorry we ended up at your place. Things just sort of happened.”
“It’s a bad reflection on Gabriella if you ditched your date for something better.”
Sawyer shook his head. “Oh, if you only knew,” he said. “It’s nothing to do with better or worse. And it’s really, really complicated. Let’s just leave it at that. Look, I’m not feeling so great. That great white shark of a dog of yours really did a number on me.”
Edouardo laughed. “You mean the eight-pound itty bitty bichon?”
“I could use a little sympathy here,” Sawyer said. “It’s not the size that matters, it’s the force of the bite.”
“It’s the motion of the ocean?”
They both sort of laughed at that, finding reluctant common ground in a bad joke.
“You know you don’t have to be such a dick,” Sawyer said. He figured he didn’t need to be on the defensive when it was this guy’s dog that bit him. Maybe Edouardo should be the one bending over backward to be contrite rather than accusatory. “You’re always acting like I’m the enemy. I’m just trying to plug along and live my life. I have no bad intentions, I don’t want to offend your family, I don’t want to upset anyone, and I don’t want to deceive anyone. So why do you act like I’m some sort of bad guy?”
Edouardo frowned, glancing into his rearview mirror as he changed lanes. “Huh,” he finally said. “I didn’t know I was being a dick.”
Sawyer laughed. “So you’re not even trying to be one?”
“No, but I could if you’d like.”
Sawyer shook his head. “Thanks, but clearly you don’t need any added encouragement.”
Edouardo shrugged. “I guess you’re right. I tend to lift a lot of rocks to see what’s slithering underneath them. I naturally don’t seem to want to trust others.”
“Is there a reason for that?”
He knit his brows. “I’ve learned in my life that you don’t trust but do verify.”
“Don’t you mean trust but verify?”
He shook his head. “That’s for idiots. For me, I just make sure I know what’s coming so it doesn’t catch me off guard. If you’re really lucky, maybe trust will follow at some point well into the future.”
“That’s sort of an exhausting way to live, don’t you think?”
“It’s the only way I know.”
Sawyer pursed his lips. “Well, you mind if I suggest you rethink that strategy? It’s no way to be, worried constantly about who’s going to screw you. And speaking from personal experience, you’re way better off just making sure you screw the right person. And I mean that in a good way.” He winked at Edouardo.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said as he pulled up to the entrance of the hospital, where he asked an attendant to get a wheelchair for Sawyer.
“Man, I am so not riding in a wheelchair,” Sawyer said, brushing aside the suggestion. “I do not need that thing.”
But as he tried to get out of the car, he struggled to put weight on his left leg and found that, in fact, he did need one. At least for the time being.
“Don’t be a dick,” Edouardo said, laughing. “Sit down and shut up.”
Sawyer knew it was going to be a long morning.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Isabella chose a simple belted pastel-pink sheath with a charcoal-gray wool Catherine Walker coat to wear for this outing. For the inevitable barrage of photographers who would be waiting for her, she needed to look sophisticated, yet for her audience, she only cared about being approachable. These were children confined to the hospital for a variety of chronic illnesses, and if she could help to put a smile on their faces despite their suffering and the loss of normalcy in their lives, she’d be very happy. She wore her long, dark hair loose, with wavy curls falling over her shoulders. She looked like the classic girl next door—just the look she’d hoped to achieve.
She arrived with Sophia Graziadei, the palace spokeswoman, who often accompanied her on these outings.
“This will be pretty straightforward,” Sophie said. “These kids are so excited to meet you. As soon as the greeters get the cue, they’ll open the door for you, and you’ll go through the line of fans waiting at the entryway with the usual cluster of paparazzi. You know the drill. Once inside, we’ll get you up to the pediatrics ward where there will be some fun activities the nurses have planned for you to do with the children. Any questions?”
Isabella smiled. This was her favorite part of her job—or birthright, however you might see it. “Nope. This should be fun.”
The door to the limo opened and Isabella and Sophie exited the car, where Isabella promptly bee-lined to the hundreds of well-wishers cordoned off near the hospital entry, trying to shake as many hands as possible as she approached the building. There were people who handed her flowers and small stuffed animals, all of which Sophie collected to share with the children and parents they’d be meeting with. One elderly woman kissed her on her cheek—and Sophie was at the ready with a handkerchief to wipe the woman’s residual lipstick from her face.
They were ushered into the lobby of the hospital, a hubbub of activity swirling around them, and escorted to a waiting elevator to get to pediatrics.
~*~
Sawyer had sent Edouardo home an hour ago. Why have him wait around while trying to make small talk? There was only so much you could say about the typically dismal state of affairs on CNN, which was blaring on the television in the emergency department waiting room. On top of a fiery burning pain in his ankle, he now had a splitting headache from the noise of that annoying television and general lack of sleep. So far, he was not enjoying his rare day off. He was glad the bleeding had subsided; at least he could stop pressing his ankle with the dish towel Clementine’s mother had used to help stanch the blood before he left the house. He was researching dog bites on his phone while sitting there bored out of his mind and learned that the physics behind them are not in a human’s favor: there are a few hundred pounds of pressure in a dog’s bite, and even with a little dog, it’s akin to putting your foot in a bear trap. A fact he could attest to, unfortunately.
Finally, after several nurses and residents had already taken a look at his ankle, the doctor came in and inspected the injury, probing the depths of the puncture wounds to be sure there wasn’t any muscle or tendon damage.
“The good news is you’re spared watching my sewing handiwork. I’m not going to do anything more than make sure these are thoroughly cleaned and bandaged by the nurse,” he said. “There’s the risk of infection if I take some sutures to these puncture wounds, but I think they’re going to heal well enough on their own. How’d your ankle get in the way of this ferocious beast?”
Sawyer rolled
his eyes. “I guess you’d say it was a love-hate relationship. First the thing couldn’t get enough of my ankle when he thought he could hump it to a successful conclusion,” he said. “But then I step on the damn dog’s tail and he retaliates.”
“Nothing like a scorned lover,” the doctor said with a chuckle.
“You can say that again,” Sawyer said, not just referring to Freddo, but another skittish creature in his life.
“I’ve got a script here for pain meds and another for some antibiotics. Don’t miss a dose of these,” he said, handing him two sheets of paper. “Just keep your eye out for anything red, hot, and tender happening down there.”
“Too late for the tender,” Sawyer said, wincing as he once again tried to put some weight on his foot with little success. “And honestly, I aspire to red and hot, so I likely won’t report back to you if I luck into either of them.”
The doctor laughed. “Yeah, well, stay off that thing for a day or two and let it heal a bit before you get too randy. In the meantime, I’ll make sure they wheel you out of here.”
Thirty minutes later, Sawyer was about to finally leave the hospital. Nothing like three wasted hours of your life. He’d arranged to keep his car parked in the hospital garage, where Edouardo had left it, and to take a taxi back to his apartment. He could retrieve his car once he wasn’t stoned out on pain meds.
A hospital aide pulled up with a wheelchair and helped Sawyer get seated in the thing, even though he felt like an enfeebled idiot being carted around the hospital in it. As the man wheeled him down one hallway, Sawyer’s eye caught a scene with a crowd down another corridor.
“What’s the big ruckus down there?” he asked the orderly, pointing in that direction. He could see some flashes going off and a crowd focused on whatever it was.
“Oh, the princess is visiting some sick children.”
“What princess?”
The orderly smiled. “There’s only one princess in Monaforte,” he said. “The Princess Royal, Princess Isabella.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sawyer had never seen Isabella in action before. Well, he’d seen her in action, all right, but not in this way, in the very act of being a princess.
“Any chance you can sneak me down that way, maybe make it look official since I’m in this wheeled contraption?”
The attendant looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. “I probably shouldn’t, but since no one told me I couldn’t do it, then why not?”
“Great,” Sawyer said. “If you could keep it discreet, so maybe the princess doesn’t actually see me, that would be even better.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He turned down the corridor and wheeled Sawyer into a large open foyer, painted in soothing pastel colors with cheerful images of animals and flowers and cartoon characters on the walls. One corner had a large screen with video game controls on a nearby table. Another spot had a table strewn with crayons and magic markers and drawings the kids must have made. A third area was filled with overstuffed pillows and chairs and rows of books.
And that’s where he saw Isabella sitting on a cushion with her legs tucked behind her, a girl of about eight snuggled up in her lap. She was reading a children’s book to her, with about twenty other children gathered around her, all enthralled and grasping onto her every word. Some were tethered to IV tubes, others had the telltale hairless scalps of one undergoing chemotherapy. Many of the children looked frail and tired. Sawyer couldn’t tell for what reason the girl in Isabella’s lap would be in the hospital—outwardly she appeared fine. She was beaming as Isabella read to her about a baby kitten with an affinity for cookies. The hospital staff and children’s family members surrounded them, shooting photos with their smartphones. For once, the camera flashes were not from any professional photographers. Sawyer was glad this wasn’t a big photo op for the palace but rather an intimate visit from someone who could help to cheer up these children and their families, even if only for a short while.
Sawyer relished hiding in the background, watching his princess being so kind and loving with the children; he could see what a wonderful mother she’d be with her own kids one day. And then, just as Isabella began to turn the page, the girl in her lap started to shake, her body losing control as her arms and legs thrashed about—she was having a seizure. Isabella didn’t flinch for a second or panic but instead held the girl as carefully as she could while protecting her from hitting the floor until a nearby nurse came to help out. Only then, did Sawyer see the child’s family members rush over to do what little they could: it was Louie Petard and a woman who appeared to be his wife, judging by the way they were holding each other and crying. Crying over their daughter, whose medical condition was clearly bad enough for her to be hospitalized for who knew how long.
Sawyer saw the upset in Louie’s eyes and felt awful for him. Sure, the guy set out to cause him financial harm, but who knew what drove someone to do bad things sometimes? As he stared at them, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do under the circumstances, he glanced at Isabella, only to see her staring at him. She cocked her head, looking at him with questioning eyes. The last thing he could deal with right now, hopped up on pain meds and feeling very conflicted about so many things, was Isabella.
He turned his head and motioned to the hospital aide. “I’m ready to get to my taxi now, thanks.”
And with that he was wheeled away, leaving the scene of confusion in his wake.
~*~
Isabella was mystified about what the hell Sawyer was doing sitting in a wheelchair watching everything unfold. And then to see that man from the birthday party, the baker who was somehow involved with the cake. It was all so very strange, and seriously, was this all coincidental? What was going on?
It really didn’t matter so much, because she was here to help out. As soon as some nurses took over with Ava, the little girl she’d been reading to, Isabella helped move the other children, ushering them to another corner of the playroom so the staff could assist the little girl.
When she stood up, she realized that her outfit was soiled from what had happened, but it didn’t matter to her. Someone handed her a blanket, which she placed over her lap, and two more children sat down to hear her stories. She stayed a while longer and did some crafts with the older children and coloring with the little ones. It made her so happy to see smiles on their faces; she knew these children had it rough, and if she could do anything to ease that burden, it was what she wanted to do.
As she was preparing to leave, Louie, the chef from the party, came up to her.
“Mademoiselle, I must thank you for your help with my daughter,” he said. He’d been crying, and his eyes were red and puffy.
Isabella waved her hands. “It’s not a problem at all,” she said. “I was happy I could help.”
“But under the circumstances, I would not have blamed you for doing nothing at all.”
Isabella cocked her head, squinting her eyes, unclear about what he meant.
“Circumstances?”
“With the cake,” he said, hanging his head. “I am afraid that was all my doing. It wasn’t intended to hurt you, however, I know that was collateral damage from my actions.”
“So you’re the one who switched the cakes?”
He nodded his head as his wife came over, apologizing profusely.
“He is an idiot,” she said, introducing herself as Marie-Claire with a thick French accent. “I could not believe he could be such a fool. He had a reliable job for all those years and then poof, like that, he throws it all away.”
“Ahhh,” Isabella said. “So you lost your job that night?”
“Monsieur Patterson was very angry with me.”
“And who could blame him, you fool.” His wife swatted at him with her hand. “He leaves us with all of these mouths to feed and no work to be had and now medical bills we cannot pay.”
Isabella looked at them both, trying to gauge their truthfulne
ss. “But how will you pay for all of this?” She motioned to the hospital, the equipment, the staff.
He shrugged. “I do not know. I have very little in savings and it is depleting rapidly.”
Sophie interrupted Isabella. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but the car is waiting,” she said. “We need to get going immediately.”
Isabella nodded. “We’ll be in touch,” she said to the husband and wife, asking for their contact information. “I’d like to hear how your daughter is doing.”
As she left the building, she wondered if she needed to be that person to help the very man who shamed her so publicly, and if this would prove her mettle as a royal who truly wanted to help someone in need, circumstances be damned.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sawyer was in the weeds, both professionally and personally. With his injured ankle, he wasn’t up to the task of running around a kitchen, lugging catering equipment to and from events and basically being the point man for all aspects of every gig they catered. Even without taking into account the dog-bite problem, ever since he lost Louie, he’d been struggling to do two jobs and didn’t feel as if he was having much success with it. He really needed Louie back.
But how could he ever offer to bring the man back after what he’d done? And how would he be able to trust him? He weighed his options but realized with a big event coming up in just a few days, he needed some help or he was going to blow it. In the aftermath of Isabella’s party, there were definitely fewer jobs coming in. Not that she was actively dissing him now, but word had certainly trickled out about that episode, and in such a small town, it was having an impact on his reputation. He certainly didn’t dare petition Isabella to somehow rectify the problem. She, of course, would have been unreachable had he even attempted to, but he had too much on his plate, as it were, to even deal with her.
A day before he was scheduled to cater a large dinner party, he threw in the towel.
“No way in hell am I going to get this done without additional help,” he said to a complete stranger at the grocery store. The woman squinted her eyes at him and got out of line to avoid contact with him.
Throne for a Loop Page 11