Never Forgive Never Forget (Celeste and Philip) novel Chapter 7

"Just go grab some painkillers yourself, alright? Viola still hasn't woken up, and I can't leave her side. Celly, please behave, I'm exhausted. Don't make this harder than it already is, okay?"

The call ended with a sharp click.

The relentless dial tone stabbed at Celeste's eyes, hot and stinging.

She remembered the time she'd had a stomach ulcer, how after her surgery, Philip had held her in his arms and cried for what felt like hours.

He'd knelt by her bedside—this tall, broad-shouldered man suddenly looking as lost as a great big dog with nowhere to go. He'd buried his face in her neck, his voice rough with anguish.

"Celly, it hurts. Every minute you were in that operating room, it felt like my heart was being ripped to pieces. You have no idea—you're everything to me!"

That same man, who once claimed she was his whole world, now told her not to make a fuss over her pain.

When hope finally died, disappointment just faded into numbness.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed through the pain long enough to dial emergency services.

By the time she was helped out of the ambulance, the agony had nearly knocked her out.

Somewhere through the blur, she heard a familiar voice.

"Viola, are you cold? Hold onto my neck, sweetheart."

She managed to turn her head.

Through the rush of medics and the chaos of the ER, she caught a glimpse of Philip in a black shirt, tall and upright, striding quickly ahead.

Viola, wrapped in a gray blanket, had her arms thrown around his neck, nuzzling against his chin. She murmured something, and he bent to smile at her, gentle and adoring.

He looked at her as if nothing else in the world existed. Even with all the commotion, his eyes held only Viola.

Celeste watched him usher Viola into the car, watched the familiar black SUV speed away, leaving her in the dust.

On the cold exam table, her sweat-soaked shirt clung to her skin, the chill seeping straight to the bone.

She endured the treatment numbly, a gag-inducing tube forced down her throat, retching helplessly as tears streamed down her face.

It was nearly 1:30 in the morning before they wheeled her into a makeshift ward and hooked her up to an IV.

The nurse setting up the bed beside hers chatted idly with a colleague.

The nurse said nothing more, quietly left, and in the hallway Celeste heard someone sigh.

"Some people just get all the luck. One woman's in for a second stomach surgery and no one's here for her, while another has an asthma attack and suddenly every specialist in the hospital's on call…"

Celeste slowly closed her eyes.

That night, her sleep was deep and dreamless.

When she woke up, daylight was already streaming through the window.

She remembered she had an appointment and hurried to check her phone.

There were over a dozen unread messages—all from Viola.

[Thank goodness for Miss Celeste's sanitizer. Philip's bed is so big and so soft.]

[Miss Celeste's pajamas are a bit tight. You should eat more fruit—Philip loves it when he holds me and touches my chest.]

[It's three in the morning, Miss Celeste. Bet you never thought I'd be the first one to sleep in Philip's room, did you?]