She went on to ask my name, age, and where I’d been when the accident occurred. I could only assume they wanted to check for brain damage.
After I passed her test, I asked her the only thing on my mind. “How bad is it?”
She looked at me. “You broke your arm, hairline fractured your skull, and you have a deep cut on your forehead. But you’ll survive.”
“What about the rest of my face?”
“The airbag spared you from the worst of it, but you hit the divider at an angle. Your side mirror broke off and hit your nose, but the doctor will explain everything that was done and possible follow-up surgeries.”
I wanted to laugh. I’d be getting my face rebuilt anyway. Only this time, I’d probably be lucky to look as good as I once had. I could feel the throbbing in my nose, cheeks and jaw, and my head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.
“Just hang tight, Lily,” she added. “The doctor will go through everything with you and then you can see your parents.”
“They’re here?” I asked.
“Yes. So is Maxwell Cole.”
How dare he? How dare he come here? What a heartless prick. I was sure, that out of everyone in the world, his was the last face on earth my poor parents wanted to see. “Send him away.”
“I can’t make him leave, but you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”
The doctor, a tall woman with short brown hair and wearing scrubs, came in holding a clipboard. Her tag read Dr. Meyers.
“How are you feeling, Lily?” she said, flashing a little light in my eyes.
“Awesome,” I replied, trying to move my jaw as little as possible.
“Well,” she pulled up a chair and sat, “I saw the accident on TV, and considering how fast you were going, you’re very lucky.”
“When do I get to see my face?”
“I think the bandages can come off next week. Dr. Bloomfield will take a look, make sure everything’s draining properly and re-bandage you.”
“Dr. Bloomfield?”
“He handled your facial trauma.”
“I had plastic surgery?” I asked.
“You had all of the paperwork signed and since you were stable, I approved. It’s generally better to make the patient have to go through healing once—when possible. And your nose was shattered. He’s taken some rib cartilage and rebuilt it.”
Ohmygod. I moved just a little and did feel some bandages on my side, but the pain was everywhere.
“You had another laceration above your eye, right under the brow, so he repaired that and did the lift. The chin has been reformed, too, since we needed to go in and dig out a lot of debris from the mirror that embedded into your face.”
I was speechless.
She went on, “We won’t know about the extent of the scarring, but Dr. Bloomfield is an excellent surgeon. He’ll be around later to give you instructions to minimize scarring.”
“So am I going to look normal after this?”
“You’ll have some scars. Some will fade over time.” She smiled. “But you’re alive. Try focusing on that.” She stood up.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for taking care of me.”
“You can thank Maxwell Cole.”
“Why would I do that?” I was in this mess because of him.
“I was off today, at my daughter’s soccer tournament in Detroit for the weekend—but that man wouldn’t take no for an answer. He made sure Dr. Bloomfield was called in, too.”
“I’m so sorry. Thank you, Dr. Meyer.” I would later learn that she was one of the best surgeons in the state with three medical degrees. Her specialty was treating trauma patients—broken bones, internal injuries, that kind of stuff.
“Don’t mention it, Lily.”
As I lay there, feeling my body ache and throb, I felt grateful for what Max had done, but did he really believe he could buy me off or absolve himself with this? And why the hell did he even care?
Maybe he hoped I’d retract my story.
When my mother and father came into the room, wearing their wrinkled khaki shorts and old T-shirts they normally gardened in, the stress was all over their tear-stained faces. They must’ve dropped everything and jumped on a flight to Chicago and slept in the waiting room. If my heart wasn’t already broken, it would be cracking into two right now.
“Don’t even pretend to be upset,” I groaned my words, trying to crack a joke. “I know how happy you are to finally have a reason to worry.”
My mother sat next to me, her brown eyes beet red from crying. “What were you thinking?” She took my hand, careful not to tangle the IV.
I wasn’t. “I wanted to get away from those reporters.” Assholes.
“Well, Max is going to make sure they pay for what they did to you. They had no right.”
I had a feeling the press wasn’t even close to being done with me yet. Nevertheless… “I don’t want his help, Mom. That man is just as responsible as they are.”
She shook her head, making her messy lopsided ponytail flop around against her shoulder. “You’ve been out for a while, so you haven’t seen the news, but you might want to give him a chance, Lily. He really, really cares about you.”
I looked away, the tears stinging my eyes.
“Honey,” my father said to my mother, “let’s not upset her. She’s been through enough and this other stuff can wait.”
She looked up at him. “You’re right.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, sweetie. That’s all that matters.”
“Tell Max to leave,” I said. “I really don’t want him here.”
She sighed in that special way when something bothered her. “I’ll let him know.”
Asshole had fucked up my life, and now he snowed one over on my parents. Was there no limit to how low he would go?
~~~
Over the next several days, I received flowers from a few coworkers, including Keri (a shocker given the scandal); friends back in California; my brother, who’d also called to chew me out; and even Danny had brought some along when she came to visit. Thankfully, my parents had instructed her not to mention you-know-who, but I could tell he’d gotten to her, too. The look in her big brown eyes was pure angst and worry, but I just didn’t want to hear it. Anything she had to say would be tainted with more of his lies.
Anyway, after three days in the hospital, I was stable, with a few weeks of healing ahead for my cuts and face, and months for my arm. Regardless, I’d be going back to California just as soon as I saw Dr. Bloomfield in a few weeks for my checkup.
My father wheeled me out of the hospital with my mother at my side, and we were again mobbed by the press. Standing off in the distance behind them, I spotted Maxwell Cole, his dark sunglasses covering his eyes as he leaned against his Porsche. Just seeing him sent me into a tailspin of emotions and made my heart feel like it had been filled with cement.
I pretended not to see him.
That night, my parents flew out—my dad needed to get back to work and I begged my mother to go with him. I needed time alone, and Danny had graciously agreed to take me to my follow-up appointments, help me pack, and then get me onto a plane in a few weeks. Everything would soon be behind me. If I could just let go…
But that same night, I found myself on Danny’s laptop, mine having been totaled in the crash, surfing the news sites for…well, I didn’t know. I just wanted answers, I guess. But I wasn’t ready for what I found. Pages and pages about the crash. But the bigger story was what Maxwell Cole had done immediately following. I couldn’t stop crying.
What did I do? What did I do?
The answer: I had just fucked my life. And his.
I was possibly the ugliest person on the planet. And I’d hurt him. I’d put him in the worst position ever.
I’d destroyed his life. The man l loved.