“He … he’s not taking this well. He punched the wall of the hotel and I think he broke his hand. I’m taking him to the hospital now, but I need you to call me about everything not Drew. Can you do that?”
“Of course Sydney. I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened.” I can hear her choking back tears.
“I know Jane. Can you make those calls right away please?”
“Yes right away, of course. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Okay Jane. Call my phone and leave a message if I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I’ll have to turn it off at the hospital. Bye.”
“Bye Sydney.”
I grab my purse and stuff my phone in, walking out of the bedroom just as Steve knocks on the door. I let him in and tell Drew we’re leaving. He just stares at me blankly. I kneel down in front of him, picking up his uninjured hand, “Drew, your hand is really bad. If we don’t go to the hospital it may not heal right. Come on.” I stand up and tug on his good hand.
He rises without protest, content to let me lead for once. This situation has upset him more than I thought if he’s allowing me to take charge. I grab the ice bucket and give it to Drew so he can put his left hand back in then run my hands through his messy hair. “In case there are reporters out front,” I say to him, smiling. I notice the corner of his lip twitch just a fraction and feel infinitely better. My Drew is in there somewhere. He just needs time to sort out this betrayal.
We pile into the elevator and head down to the lobby. When we exit the elevator, Sal is waiting for us. I overhear him speaking to Steve. “There’s a mob of people out front. Evan is waiting with the car.”
Steve nods and we continue through the lobby and toward the front door. I ignore the stares and whispers from the other guests and employees as they watch us leave. I’m sure seeing Andrew Forrester surrounded by bodyguards with his hand in an ice bucket makes for interesting gossip, but I could give two shits right now. My only thought is getting Drew fixed up and back with me.
I pay no attention to the mass of reporters that line the front walk, shoving against each other and shouting at us as we exit the hotel. Steve elbows his way through the over-enthusiastic throng, clearing a path for us to follow. Sal stays behind us, keeping fans and reporters from shoving. I clutch Drew to me, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. It doesn’t stop the surging horde from screaming out to us.
“Andrew, any comment on the betrayal by your studio?”
“Sydney, did you know Kiera was in on stealing your man?”
“Did Kiera wear a wire to record you both?”
“Is it true that Kiera threatened you Sydney?”
“I love you Andrew!”
Of course, the fans showed up too, holding signs up for Drew and a few for me to show their support. Then there are the Kiera fans, booing and hurling insults at me, telling me I ruined everything by stealing her man.
Evan jumps out of the SUV and holds the door open for us, shoving the crowd back to make room. I push Drew forward and he climbs in the back behind Steve and I hop in after him. Sal gets in the front seat and Evan gets in the back with us. Drew and I sit in the very back row of seats in the Mercedes, ice bucket between us. Our British driver pulls away from the curb and takes us to the hospital. Drew gave Bruce time off since he didn’t really feel comfortable driving on the left side of the road and being responsible for our safety.
It takes about fifteen minutes to drive to the private London Orthopedic Clinic, a non-descript row house on a busy street. The driver stops in front of the door and Steve gets out and goes inside. We wait in the SUV while he checks it out.
“You feel okay?” I ask Drew.
“Fine,” he says calmly, not meeting my eyes. I squeeze his knee and press a kiss to his rough cheek. If anyone knew how difficult fame really was, I wonder how many people would want it. Look at what it’s done to me, to Drew, to his family. It’s nothing but a giant target on your chest for liars, thieves and whackos.
Steve comes out of the clinic and opens the back door. “We’re good.”
“Sal, stay with Ed,” I tell him, referring to our driver. “We’ll let you know when we’re ready to be picked up. Evan, Steve, come inside with us. We’ll probably need you to keep people away.” I climb out of the car and grab Drew’s ice bucket, tossing the contents into a drain and placing it back on the seat. Drew stares at me as if I’m crazy. “What? We’re here so we don’t need it anymore right?” Again, I notice the tiny movement in the corner of his mouth, the beginning of a smile.