Chapter 24 Egotistic
GINGER:
For a second, my legs stay jelly.
I stare at Xavier, unable to believe the words that just left his mouth. I am even more disgusted with my body’s reaction to it. My skin feels like it's been set aflame from within, my breathing scattered, eyes blown wide, and my heart just won't stop being impossibly loud against my ribcage.
Xavier licks the last of his cold dessert, studying me with that self-assured smirk that gets on my nerves. If this is his idea of a joke, I absolutely missed it.
“Um… No?” The words come out sounding more like a question. I clear my throat, hating the breathlessness in my voice. “What exactly do you take me for? A whore?”
“That wasn't—”
“Your egotistic tendencies I can stand. Your need to make my life a living hell? Bearable. But what I will never take is your pity, Xavier.” I am borderline seething at this point, the warmth from mere moments ago a receding memory made worse by the fast-dissolving treat in my hand.
Xavier glances around, no doubt at the visiting families shooting us curious and nasty glares, before stepping forward, his gaze landing on me.
“Yeah? And what makes you so sure I'm doing this out of pity?”
He’s even more intimidating up-close, towering several inches over me. But instead of caving in, I straighten my spine. That girl he pushed around highschool? Yeah, she isn't here right now.
“For one, you're the only person to have seen me at my worst. It's only natural you'd feel like you had to help,” I say. “Secondly, you could literally have your pick from Italy's finest.. yet you choose to mess with me. Why?”
“Maybe it's because you're easy prey.”
My fingers itch with the urge to slap him.
“Oh, is that right?” I say, squaring up to his height. “Tell me. What's the allure, knowing you’re goofing around with your brother's girl? Does it make you feel good about yourself, playing around my pain like this?”
His eyes are pure sin. “I never claimed to be Prince Charming, sweetheart.”
“You're impossible.”
“Try realistic,” he says. “Besides, my brother dumped you for your mother. So, if we're being technical, you're the ex.”
“In other words, that means it's open season?” I can't believe this. “You know what? Fuck you.”
Wheeling my infusion stand along, I head straight for the nearest bin, dumping my melted ice-cream in it before continuing in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” Xavier calls after me, catching the attention of thrill-seekers close by.
“It’s none of your business.” I don't bother looking back.
Up ahead, I see a stunning blonde—probably in her sophomore year—stop in her tracks to stare behind me, her manicured fingers absently tugging on the jean jacket of the girl beside her.
That one also turns and equally wears a gobsmacked expression.
Oh, for the love of—
“Anastasia, come on.”
There's that annoying voice again.
“Leave me alone.”
The girls are watching us, slack-jawed like they can't believe I'm the one taking up all his attention. Blondie, in particular, takes on an almost envious glare as she walks right by us.
Girl, he's yours if you want. I'm done.
Xavier sighs in frustration, like he can't believe I’d actually choose solitude over being around him. “So what—you’re just gonna walk the entire way back to the hospital?”
“If need be.”
“It's a 40-mile distance.”
“I'll take my chances.”
“Okay, well that isn't working for me.”
Before I can say or do anything else like maybe flip him the bird, Xavier does the unexpected.
He moves towards his car, pulling out the remote and clicking a button. This triggers a mechanical whirring that causes his boot to automatically slide open. He disappears behind it, only to walk over carting a wheelchair moments later.
“Are you gonna sit, or should I make you?”
I stare at him in disbelief. Had he been anticipating this?
His tone tells me he means business. Yet, I bite my lip and look around, eyes scanning for whatever exit point exists short of the one he just came through.
What are the chances I can out-think this walking nightmare in black and actually make it through one of the exits with my sanity intact? Already, we're beginning to garner more attention than is deemed normal, and something tells me it has little to do with the IV currently linked to my arm.
Xavier steps in front of me, blocking my path entirely. “You've got five seconds to decide, Kvokka.”
I sigh. There goes my escape plan.
“Fine.”
I ease into the seat, making sure to pin him with an extra-stony glare.
He adjusts the contraption to accommodate my saline stand. “Legs on the plate.”
“Now you care about my safety?”
“More like I care about my wallet,” he says, guiding us back the way we came. “Amputating your feet isn't exactly high on my priority list.”
“But getting into my pants is?”
“Your words. Not mine.”
My head snaps up so fast, I wonder how my neck supports it.
“Did you seriously just.. flip this around?”
His footsteps come to an abrupt halt.
Xavier leans over my side, clutching the arm rest. “Look, I only tried to help, and those were my terms,” he says. “If that's not your cup of tea, and you are perfectly sure you're content leaving things the way they are, that's fine by me.”
He moves to the passenger door and opens it. “
\~~~
We sit in comfortable silence the entire trip back to the hospital.
Xavier makes a weird point of driving slowly the whole time, engine just short of purring beneath us. It's almost like he’s trying to drag the moment out, giving me space to think and probably change my mind about his offer.
But the truth is, I don't want to think.
Thinking means I'll only replay the events of the past few hours in my mind again. It means I'll have to face the truth I don't want to see.
The truth that somewhere along the line, I must've actually given marriage a try—putting my heart on the line for a man who didn't deserve it, only to have it blow up in my face in the worst way possible.
I hear the engine die, and the car spatter to a stop seconds before my side door opens.
“Ready to get reacquainted with the smell of bleach and disinfectants?” Xavier says, offering a hand.
“Always.”
A nurse in scrubs comes out to help.
“I've got her.” His hand wraps around my waist, lifting my free arm over his neck. He clicks on his remote. “Wheelchair’s in the trunk.”
I try to ignore the feel of Xavier's palm against me as we walk, the combined mix of his heat and scent humming between us like a foggy haze of sin.
The female medic trails a few feet behind us, pushing the metal chair. I can hear the squeak of its rear wheels as they roll on the linoleum, but she doesn't dare approach.
Almost like she's been told not to.
I frown.
“Why are you doing this?” I grit out.
Xavier squeezes my hip, pulling me closer to him.
I bite back a gasp.
“Doing what?” he says.
“Dragging th
ings, trying to see if I'll cave in.”
“Why, is it working?”
“Xavier…”
“What, Kvokka?”
“You're Dante's brother.”
“And you're his ex-wife, so?”