Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
“Where are you? Tell me your exact location.”
When she couldn’t even tell me where she was, she asked Henry and related his exact words to me. I hung up on her. Then I put the damn phone back to my ear as if she could still hear me and I could apologize after realizing I’d been rude.
Out on the street, I considered grabbing a cab, but from what they were telling me, they weren’t anywhere near the road. Before I could waste more time thinking of the best way to get there, I found myself running across the street, ignoring the blaring car horns as I avoided getting hit by oncoming traffic. I entered the park somewhere around 79th and ran as fast as I could in a suit. If Henry had described the place correctly, she was somewhere in between the Ramble and the Boathouse.
I slowed down to a brisk walk when there was almost fifty feet separating us and watched as Rose lifted her head and looked straight at me. She gingerly got to her feet with the help of the man standing next to her. My eyes ran over her, but I couldn’t see any visible injuries. My heart was pounding from the run, or maybe it was just worry, or what the hell maybe it was just seeing her, but thankfully my brain was still working enough to remember that we were supposed to be husband and wife and we could and should act like a couple around other people.
“Rose.”
I went straight for her and before I could try to think of what I could do or what would be appropriate, I found myself rocking back a step when her body hit mine. She was fine, and she was already in my arms. A little out of breath, I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her, squeezing gently since I wasn’t sure where her injuries were. I closed my eyes for a second and let out a long breath. She was fine.
“What happened?” I asked, addressing the guy next to her, but Rose answered before he could speak, thinking I was talking to her.
“I probably shouldn’t have called you. I was being stupid, I’m sorry,” she whispered to my shoulder and pulled back. My brows snapped together as I studied her face. If she didn’t think she should have called me, what was she doing jumping into my arms? Reluctantly, I let her go. Her gaze dropped to her hands, so I looked down as well to see her staring at her shattered phone screen. “It works enough that I could find you in my contacts, but it’s not calling. I’m not sure what’s wrong.”
“It’s broken to pieces, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Henry thought I should call someone to pick me up.”
I finally turned to Henry. He was maybe forty or forty-five with white streaks in his hair, wearing black sweatpants and a black zip-up sweatshirt. I extended my hand. “Thank you for helping my wife. Is there anything we can do for you?”
We shook hands as he gave Rose a once-over. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad I was there to help.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to go, but she took a bad fall so you might want to have someone look—”
My jaw clenched. “I’ll take care of her. Thank you again.”
Rose shuffled closer to me. “I have a coffee shop on Madison Avenue, Around the Corner. If you’re ever around, please drop by—I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee as a thank you.”
“Sure. It’s not safe for you to walk around the park this early in the morning, so be careful in the future.”
“I will. Again, thank you.”
Giving us a nod and a quick wave, Henry jogged away toward the west side.
Rose took a deep breath and sighed. I looked her over from head to toe once again, trying to assess the situation. “I feel fine now, and when Henry insisted I should call someone, I couldn’t protest. I mean, I was going to call Owen, but he probably already started on the baking and I didn’t want to take him from—”
“Rose, stop talking.” I picked up her hand, the one she was holding her phone with, and she winced. I frowned down at her, gently picking up the phone so I could hold her hand and look at the damage. The heel of her palm was scraped and there was some blood.
“Give me your other hand.”
“It’s fine.”
My mouth tightened and I kept my hand open, waiting for her. Reluctantly she held up her palm—the same scrapes, more blood.
“The ring is fine.”
“Do I look like I care about a fucking ring?” I snapped, too busy turning her hand over and gently pressing on her wrists to see if she was hurting.
“Nope, you don’t. How did you get here so fast anyway?”