The scent of homemade muffins and lasagna filled the air as I rounded the corner of one hallway to another. It was almost enough to make me forget where I was until I felt a wheel hit my toe. I took a step back, nearly spilling the coffees in my hand.
"Oh, sorry, dearie," a frail voice spoke up. I looked down at my shirt to see that I didn't get any on my blouse, and then turned my gaze to the woman in front of me.
She sat in a wheelchair, staring up at me expectantly. She was probably around 85 years old; her blonde hair was mostly grey, with only a few small strands hinting at its past color.
"I've always told Wilson he's not the best driver, but he insists on taking control." Her head nodded to the young nurse behind her, holding onto the handlebars, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Don't worry about it. No harm, no foul."
The nurse gave me an appreciative, closed-lipped smile as he made to move past me, and I returned the gesture. Then, they were gone. And it wasn't long after, once I reached room 303, that the warm feeling I had left, too.
I set my coffee cup on the table beside an empty chair and handed the second one to my mother. She looked relieved to see it and let out a satisfied sigh after the first sip. It was the first time I could remember seeing her truly relax in the past year.
"Why don't you let me take over?" I asked, shrugging off the arms of my fall leather jacket.
I'd been here for a few hours now, and despite the heat pumping through the hospital, I didn't bother to remove it. I never did. Taking it off meant I was staying, but it was a swift movement that happened before I could even think about it.
My mother eyed me from behind the coffee cup still in her delicate hands. The wedding set my Dad gave her shone underneath the fluorescent lights.
She swallowed, then shook her head. "No, it's alright. You've likely got somewhere else to be."
She was right, I did. Where it was and what for, I didn't know. All I knew was that it wasn't here. But I didn't find my feet moving to the door like they usually did. Instead, they headed in her direction, stopping just short of the chair's metal leg.
"I'd like to stay," I replied, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Her eyes looked up at me, unwaveringly. It wasn't until I was close enough that I finally noticed the dark, deep-set circles underneath them. She reached up and put a hand on top of mine.
"Are you sure? I'm really fine." Lie. "The coffee will kick in soon, and the nurse—"
I pat her hand. "Mom, really. You're good. I can handle an hour or so while you rest. You can't run on caffeine forever."
"I can try," she teased. We both let out a dry laugh, but it didn't ease the heaviness of the room. She stood, and my hand naturally fell to the wayside. "Thanks, Lightbug."
Lightbug. The last time I heard that name was during my college graduation, nearly four years ago. Just before my Dad got sick. I watched as she bent down and whispered something in his ear, then as she planted a kiss on his cheek.
He didn't wake up the entire time. He hadn't, in almost a year.
A twinge of guilt pinged in my chest, but I forced it down. My mother mouthed another 'thank you' on her way out the door, her body moving slower than I remembered through the door frame.
And then, I was left alone.
I glanced around the room, unsure of where to look. I didn't want to look at him. Not yet. Ever since his condition worsened, I haven't been able to stay for longer than a 20-minute visit, let alone be in the same room with him, without my mother.
But now, here I was.
The sound of the monitors beeped in the background, slowly making its way to my ears and bringing me back to reality. I lifted a stubborn foot off the concrete ground and grabbed my coffee cup off the table before making my way to the seat my mother left behind.
It was still warm. I took a drink to calm my nerves. Why was I nervous? My leg twitched. I aimlessly reached up and tucked the loose piece of brown hair that fell from my bun behind my ear.
Then, I built up the courage to look at him. His hair was starting to grey, and his beard was growing back in. The longer I stared, the more I noticed that it appeared someone had trimmed it recently. Likely my mother. That ping returned, and once again, I ignored it.
I pulled my phone out of my purse and tapped the screen. I needed something to distract me and pass the time until my mother woke up. I hit the 'Settings' button and navigated to the Wifi connections, scrolling until I found the hospital's account. Then, I input the password that was hanging on the wall beside me.
"Come on," I whispered as three little dots appeared in the middle of the screen. They continued to bubble up and down, over and over, with no hope of stopping. "Please work."
I groaned as the 'Failed to Connect' button appeared on my screen. I went to push it away when my phone rang in my hand.
"Hello?" I answered. No reply. "Hello?" I prompted again. There was still nothing.
I moved the phone from my ear to check that the call was still connected. It was, but my service bars were low.
"Hello?" I tried once more.
"Ever? Are you there? I can barely hear you."
I sighed, frustrated by the lack of connection, but also thankful for a reason to step out of the room.
"One second," I started as I stood up.
I headed for the door, taking one last quick look at my Dad, as if he was going to suddenly wake up and need something. I shook my head and pulled the door closed, leaving it slightly ajar. Then, I put the phone back to my ear.
"Is that better?" I asked.
"Oh my god, yes. You sounded like you were in a tunnel. Where are you?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. "At the hospital. The service isn't great." When I opened my eyes again, I glanced at the clock on the wall behind the nurse's desk. "Did you finish work early?"
I heard a small squeal come from the other end of the phone. "No, I'm on an errand, but this couldn't wait until I got home."
I didn't reply. Even though Aubrey took a pause, her pauses never meant that she was finished speaking, only that her brain was trying to catch up with her mouth.
"So, you know my boss, Cassian Lancaster?"
Of course I did. Cassian Lancaster was the youngest CEO of Clarity Finances, one of the biggest financial institutions in the world, next to JPMorgan and Bank of America. Aubrey worked as an administrative assistant for the COO, Dean. Her salary was the main reason we could afford our apartment. God knows my freelance business wasn't taking us anywhere.
"Well, I overheard him and Dean talking in the office...I know, I know, I shouldn't eavesdrop, and I wasn't, until I heard them mention the annual charity gala, which you know I've been working my a** off towards. It's the basis of my whole career.
Anyway, I heard a lot about who's going, what the dress code is, and how Dean is going to need a hand this year. You know, after the whole situation with some of last year's donations going missing. And guess who's about to get an invite?"
Another squeal escaped her. She paused, and after a beat passed, I knew she was finished, for the moment.
"Wow, Aubrey," I replied. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you."
I couldn't help but pace back and forth in front of the door frame as I spoke. My words were true; I really was happy for her. But something like a charity gala seemed so far out of touch for me that my mind slightly drifted. It took a second for me to rein it back in.
"Do you know what you're going to wear?" I asked.
"Duh," she answered. "Of course! But we can talk about that later. I didn't call about the gala. Well, not really."
Another stop. She must've been checking to see if anyone around could hear before continuing our conversation. When she came back, her voice was low.
"I also overheard that the board wants to let Cassian go."
This caught my attention. "Go?" I pressed. "Like, fire him? Can they do that?"
"Yes, and no. They have to come to a unanimous decision, but from what I heard, they don't think he's taken seriously enough in the public eye. They think that most of the world sees him as an attractive, eligible bachelor before they see him as a CEO, which is totally valid. He is beautiful."
I couldn't argue with her there. I'd never seen Cassian Lancaster in person, but he was on the cover of every newspaper and magazine out there. He was well-known, but obviously not for what Clarity wanted him to be.
"The only thing stopping the decision from being made now is one board member. Apparently, at the last meeting, he proposed a sort of deal. If Cassian could find a partner and marry within 30 days, he could keep his title. If not, he'd agree to letting him go."
"That's a little...extreme," I noted.
"Oh, trust me. I know. But at the same time, I'd do it if it meant I got to keep being rich, too."
"You'd seriously marry a stranger for money?" I asked, slightly surprised. Aubrey was my best friend, but sometimes, the things she said still got me by surprise.
"Uhhh, yeah?" she replied, phrasing it like she was questioning MY instincts. "And you will too."
I stopped pacing. "What do you mean, 'I will'?"
"Well, Cassian doesn't like the idea, but knowing him, he'll cave to save his position. From there, it's only a matter of time until it becomes public knowledge."
"Okay...and what does this have to do with me?"
"Come with me to the gala tomorrow night. I already have a plus one. We'll get you in front of Cassian, and you can put your name in the ring in advance. You're both hot, so attraction shouldn't be a problem."
I let out a laugh. "You want me to marry Cassian Lancaster? You have to be kidding." But when Aubrey didn't immediately respond, I knew she wasn't. My blood ran cold. "Oh, no. Aubrey, no. You can't actually be serious. That's—that's—well, quite literally insane!"
"I know it sounds like it, but think about it! He's rich, handsome, quite single. And you know those dating shows—the ones where they marry people in 90 days. It happens all the time!"
She was actually serious. This was ludicrous. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My pacing continued.
"Aubrey, I haven't even been on a date in two years, and you bring up the idea of me marrying a complete stranger? How is that even logical in your mind? Most of the time, I can piece your ideas together, but this—"
"It's insanity, I get it," she interjected. "But you have to hear me out. Cassian is rich."
I internally groaned. "Yeah, you already said that."
"Exactly. Rich. Like, he can do anything type of rich. Book a random trip to Paris, buy expensive dinners, pay medical bills..."
I froze. When I didn't answer, Aubrey continued.
"I know your financial situation, Ever. Your mom is drowning in medical bills, and no matter how much either of you works, it'll never stop. He needs a wife. You need the money. So, what do you say?"