Rearranging You
Autorzy
Elle Chipp (with S. S. Sahoo)
Lektury
168K
Rozdziały
18
Angela Carson is an NYC party girl who’s lost her father and is constantly fighting her image-driven mother. When “rich bitch” is an understatement for her current media status, her mother is left with no choice but to take action with an arranged marriage. Enter the devastatingly handsome Xavier Knight, who must be a vain corporate climber or, worse, a spy for her mother. The only question is, will Angela go along with it or face the consequences?
Age Rating: 18+
Running from Fate
XAVIER
My phone starts buzzing at 6:32 in the morning, blaring “Mr. Blue Sky.”
Normally, I wouldn’t mind—I chose the song, after all—but when I can hear the rain pounding outside, it feels like the song is mocking me.
I pick up the call, my eyes still heavy from lack of sleep, and hear my sister Lucy’s panicked voice on the other end.
“Mom… Heart… Hospital.” Those are the only words I can make out from her hurried speech, and I tell her to slow down before I lose my mind.
Lucy has never been good at handling emergencies, and I find myself wishing she hadn’t quit those improv classes our other sister, Danielle, had gifted her.
Maybe then she’d be able to think on her feet instead of panicking.
“It’s Mom, I got a call… She’s at Sacred Heart Hospital and they think it’s her heart. I need you to get here now,” she finally manages to say, and I wish she could take it all back.
Our mom is the rock of our family, and she’s been as fit as a fiddle for as long as I can remember. The thought of her being sick feels alien to me, and I check the calendar to make sure it’s not some twisted April Fool’s joke.
Nope, it’s still June.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I tell her, already pulling a T-shirt over my head.
I need to get there as soon as possible. Lucy won’t know any of the insurance details, and Danielle is on vacation with her husband.
I can only imagine how much Lucy’s panicking right now, and I just hope she can hold it together until I get there.
With only twenty blocks between my apartment and the hospital, I decide to run instead of calling a cab. All the while, I can feel my heart pounding against my ribs and I can’t help but wonder if my mom’s heart is doing the same.
I know it’s a silly thought, but I can’t help it. When I get there, I’ll have to be the calm one for the sake of my family.
Thankfully, the fear subsides before it can fully take hold. Just as it starts to creep back in, the hospital comes into view, and I push it away.
I have my dad to thank for my coping mechanisms, wherever he is now. Hopefully, in hell.
Lucy is in the waiting room and jumps up the moment she sees me. There’s a blank form on a clipboard on the table, and after I hug her for a moment, I pick it up to start filling it out.
It’s tedious and long, but it’s exactly what I need to clear my head. There’s no way I can overthink things when I have to remember insurance numbers and bank details.
“Xavier, do you think she’ll—” Lucy’s sobs cut her off.
I hope she was about to say “get better,” because I don’t want to think about any other possibilities.
Mom has to get better. I’m hoping one of the nurses will give us an update soon.
The last question on the form asks how long her policy will be valid, and I panic for a moment because I don’t know.
Danielle handled the insurance change last year, so I pull out my phone to call and check.
The hold music is awful—a mindlessly cheerful tune that’s forced on people who are anxiously waiting for their turn to speak.
The minute hand on the wall clock has almost completed a full circle by the time a real person answers, and I’m surprised at how close I come to sounding as panicked as Lucy did this morning.
“Hi, yes, I’m calling on behalf of Jeanne Knight.”
After ten minutes of answering security questions, the woman on the other end of the line delivers a crushing blow.
“I’m sorry, sir, but it appears her policy has expired.”
“That can’t be! It was renewed last year…” I’m on the verge of breaking down.
“It doesn’t seem so, sir. We requested a final signature by mail but never received a response.”
By mail… Mail that would have gone to our old family home. None of us live there anymore—the house my dad was left with to sell and fund his alcohol addiction, among other things.
Did he get it? Because if he did, that would be unforgivable.
“Thank you for your time.” I hang up and wish for a moment that I still had a flip phone.
The satisfying snap of it closing would have helped relieve some of the pressure building inside me. Instead, I resort to cracking my knuckles—a bad habit that Mom always disapproved of.
“What did they say?” Lucy asks, setting down two cups of mediocre coffee.
How can I tell my sweet, innocent little sister that our mom has no insurance and might not receive the treatment she needs?
None of us are well-off. We used all our savings to get Mom an apartment away from our dad, and since then, I’ve been trying—and failing—to grow my contracting business.
“Have they said if she’s awake yet?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“No, she’s still in surgery, I think… What did they say?” Her bright blue eyes are filled with worry, and I know that when I tell her the news, they’ll fill with tears.
We sit in silence for what feels like hours but must only be minutes. With this new piece of bad news, I need to clear my head, and what better way than to go for another run?
I check with Lucy to make sure she’s okay with it, then I bolt across the street toward the park. I break into a full-on sprint, running like my life depends on it.
Rainwater puddles splash under my feet, and the scent of wet earth fills the air. Sweat begins to bead on my back, and I push myself harder, craving the sensation.
Endorphins are great, but this grief is swallowing me whole.
As I’m about to round a corner, I spot a woman bending over a bench. It’s one of those memorial benches you see in parks.
I can’t explain why I’m drawn to her, but when I shift my gaze back to the path in front of me, I see a cyclist barreling straight toward her.
He’s got his headphones in and seems to be fiddling with his phone, probably checking directions. He doesn’t seem to be slowing down, and without a second thought, I lunge forward and pull her out of his path.
“I’m really sorry, but he wasn’t watching where he was going,” I say, extending a hand to help her up.
She’s older than me, probably around my mom’s age, and she’s dressed pretty fancy. She looks like she could be on her way to Wall Street or something. For a moment, I wonder if I’m about to get yelled at for this.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” she exclaims.
