Chapter 20

The door clunked shut, and Luke felt like an idiot and a jerk. Had he really just accused her of not foreseeing all the eventualities tonight?

And had he really just told her that she was yearning for validation by men?

He groaned and ran a hand over his face, then proceeded to open his beer. He knew that he was right at least in part. Emma's fiancé must have pulled a mean trick on her, because it was clear that she was insecure. No matter what she said.

The problem was that there might have been a grain of truth in her words, too.

He could hear the paparazzi scream outside, and groaned even louder. Should he have followed her? Should he run after her now?

"Shit," he swore under his breath. She had been right about another thing: Sex made everything more complicated. If he hadn't slept with her, he wouldn't feel guilty now.

Or would he?

Maybe it wasn't the sex though; maybe the simple fact was that he was in the wrong. She had hit the nail on the head. He had a problem with trust – and he needed no psychologist to tell him that. And yes, he also had a clear image in his head of her face when she was ready to take off her clothes. And yes, he could have admitted that he'd been jealous and that his anger had been completely unwarranted. But what position would he have maneuvered himself into with such an admission?

Well, it could hardly have been shittier than it was now. What did jealousy mean after all? Just cause he was getting possessive of her; didn't mean she would get any wrong ideas.

Or would she?

This sort of doubtful question starting with an ‘or' had been creeping into his thoughts way too often recently. Whenever it was about Emma, everything ended in a question mark.

She would come back. Or wouldn't she?

He closed his eyes, took another sip of his beer, and shook his head at himself. When had he become such a sucker?

When he opened his eyes again, something was flickering not too far off. It took him a moment to register that it was the small light from his answering machine, indicating that he had messages. He took his beer and dropped down on his couch, before pressing the button to listen to the messages.

"You have one new message. Message one."

"Hey Emma, it's Steve." A brief silence followed.

"Milla said I might be able to reach you at this number – okay. Don't flip out, but we're at the hospital, the Albert Einstein Medical Center. Milla slipped and fell down the stairs, and she's in a great deal of pain. With her pregnancy and everything …" Steve swallowed. "I believe it would mean a lot to her if you came. Anyway. I'll try to reach you on your cell."

Luke stared at his answering machine and set his beer down on the coffee table. Then he swore and grabbed his jacket.

***

"No, you listen to me! I'm her sister." Emma reached over the counter and tapped on a clipboard, her hands shaking. "Here is her name: Milla Ronsen. All I want to know is where she is and what's going on."

The nurse took the clipboard away from under Emma's fingers. "Mrs. Ronsen is currently in ultrasonic. You can't go in there right now."

"I don't care whether I can get in there right now or not. Just fucking tell me where the room is!" Emma yelled angrily and balled her hands into fists."

"Emma?"

Emma's head whipped around, and she was relieved to see Steve come down the corridor. "I thought that was you screaming out here. You sound a lot like Milla."

"Steve." Glad to have finally found someone who could give her more information, she hugged him. "I only just got your mailbox message a few minutes ago. I was already sitting in a taxi, so I came here. How is she? Is she injured? Is the baby alright?"

Steve sighed and directed her back up the hallway, his arm around her shoulder. "She has a few bruises, but the doctor said the ultrasound didn't reveal any internal damage. The baby is anxious, but not threateningly so."

Emma frowned and let her brother-in-law steer her around the corner. "What does that mean, not threateningly so? Anxious like: I need to give a talk in front of a hundred people tomorrow, or anxious like: The guy from The Shining might break in the door with an axe any moment?"

Steve made a face. "Exactly, something like that. In here; they gave her a sedative so both of them could calm down. So don't be surprised …"

"Surprised?"

"Emmy, my cute little Schwester. Give us a kiss."

Milla lay in a sterile-looking, white bed, and her face beamed like that of a lunatic, while she reached out her hands with splayed fingers, and waved her closer impatiently. "I'm having a baby, sis."

"But not right now, you don't. Right?"

Emma sat down on the edge of the bed, and her tension dissolved. Better a lunatic sister than an injured one.

Milla sighed heavily and squeezed Emma's hands. "No, only in five months, silly. But if it's a boy, I want to call him Seppeldi."

Emma knit her brows and looked up at Steve, who made an unhappy face. "I think we should talk about that another time, honey. Just because it was the good doctor's last name, you don't have to punish our son. A name is for life."

His wife blinked at him, clearly befuddled. "Punish? He would be the more unique for it."

"Well, even uniqueness is overrated sometimes," Emma said with a grin and patted Milla's head. "You still have time to find a name – and Emilio is nice, too. I finally realized that Emmo isn't the best name for a boy."

Milla giggled and followed that with a deep sigh. "I'm so glad that you're here, Emma."

"Of course I am here. Something might have happened to you!"

Milla sighed again. "No, I mean here, in Philadelphia. I missed spending time with you."

Emma's heart tightened. "Me too," she whispered and pressed a kiss to the back of her sister's hand.

"Alright, I didn't understand a word, but that was obviously a sentimental moment," Steve grumbled behind them.

Emma laughed. She hadn't even noticed that they had switched to German again. She didn't mean to exclude Steve.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I want to get a coffee anyway, so I'm going to look for a vending machine now, while you can have some sentimental moments, too," Emma rambled as she rose from the bed. "Shall I bring anything for you guys?"

"Yes, I want a coffee as well," Milla said promptly, but then looked at her belly and let the corners of her mouth droop. "Maybe not. I'd better have a decaf. No, wait, a hot chocolate. Or maybe a tea? No, chocolate. With cream. No, without cream. Cream makes me nauseous."

Steve put a hand on Emma's shoulder and murmured: "Better go now, before she reconsiders again."

Emma decided one should always believe what a pregnant woman's husband said, and slipped from the room. She was tired and exhausted. First the evening, then Luke's scene, and now the hospital – she would need more than coffee to feel better again.

What good did it do you to be in a clinical institution that legally distributed drugs if you had no prescription to get some?

Emma rubbed her eyes and made two right turns, before reaching the admissions desk, and a coffee vending machine on the opposite wall.

Two bucks for a cup that held only four ounces? Wasn't a hospital supposed to help people, instead of driving them into financial ruin?

"Highway robbery," she said under her breath as she fed the two dollar bills into the slot, put two cups under the chutes, and selected espresso and hot chocolate.

"I could buy you a drink. I'm rich, you know," she heard a voice behind her back. She flinched and wheeled around. She starred into Luke's face with a morose expression and crossed her arms.

Awesome. Just what her headache had been missing for going into full bloom. Another confrontation with the most unreasonable person in the world. The man who had called her insecure. Her temples were delighted!

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not trying to hide the irritation in her voice. "There's no free beer, and no paparazzi to enact a romance for."

Much to her satisfaction he gave the impression of being uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable enough for her taste, but it was a start.

"I heard Steve's message on my answering machine and …" he cleared his throat, "was worried. Is your sister okay?"

"Are you sure you can trust my answer at all? Maybe I feel far too insecure to say how she is. Maybe I only came here and asked the doctor what happened, because I wanted to find male validation."

She turned away to press the buttons again, but that didn't make the machine any faster.

She could hear Luke groan behind her. "You're angry. Has anyone in your vicinity acted like an idiot within the last two hours or so?"

She pressed her lips together. "Stop trying to be charming, Luke! Maybe that's a strategy that works for your sluts – but contrary to your assumption, I am not one of them."

"I don't think that you're a slut, Emma," he sighed. "And I'm sorry for what I said. I …" He paused, and Emma held her breath, while she waited for the hot beverages to stop dripping into the cups.

"Fine! I have trust issues," he finally blurted. "I've simply been exploited for money and fame too often. Are you satisfied?"

Barely.

"No, I'm not satisfied," she said flatly and turned in his direction, but only slightly so. "You can't just apologize, admit that you have a problem, and then look all cute and sweet! That … it's not okay! You … you …"

He had hurt her. But she would never admit it.

"Well, I also admitted that I was an idiot."

She cocked her head. "Mhm. Maybe."

"And I … I feel really awful. If that helps."

It did.

"And?"

He scratched the back of his neck and looked as if this entire conversation cost him quite an effort. "I already said I'm sorry, but I was …" He uttered a dry laugh. "I was jealous."

"Really." The corners of her mouth were threatening to twitch.

God, he was cute!

"Even though you had absolutely no reason to be?"

"Well, you know …" He furrowed his brow. "I don't think that I had no reason at all, I just …"

"You know, Luke, there are people for whom one would need to combine the words idiot, dork, and fool."

"A diddiotool?"

The corners of Emma's mouth won the contest. He looked so sheepish. As if he was really sorry. And the word ‘jealousy' from his own mouth hadn't been bad either.

"Yes, I like that," she smiled. "A diddiotool if ever there was one. Though I'd like it even better if the person in question would stand in the middle of the stadium, and say the word three times, into the microphone."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you can't have everything."

The machine beeped, and Emma took the steaming cups into her hands. They weren't the only things that suddenly felt rather warm. "Was that the first time you ever apologized to someone?"

He made a face and scratched his head. "No, I once had to apologize to my mother, for saying a bad word, but apart from that …"

"For a first attempt, that was pretty good," she said casually as she made her way slowly down the hall, passing him, balancing the cups in her hands. He caught up with her and put an arm around her shoulders, with his hand brushing the edge of the neckline.

"How good?"

She shook off his arm to indicate her irritation. A sip of coffee splattered the ground.

Cute and dumb. Two attributes combined in just one man. "Not that good. You better watch out, Mr. Wichtig, I'm still angry. You men with your damn manliness; everything is a competition to you. If that wasn't the case, you'd be able to relax and accept the fact that women can have male friends, too."

"Women cannot have male friends."

"Of course they can; just look at us! You and I are friends! I established that only a short while ago, remember?"

He shook his head. "You and I are sleeping together."

She turned away from him and took a sip of coffee, before murmuring, "Fascinating."

"What is fascinating?"

"That you said the last few sentences and still you're speaking of sex in the present tense."

He started laughing, and he was still laughing when they opened the door to Milla's room. Emma hadn't wanted to have him tag along, but that's what he did anyway.

Milla was lying in her bed with her eyes half closed, humming a melody. Steve was nowhere in sight. Emma set down the still-steaming cup on the nightstand, before running a gentle hand over Milla's forehead.

"When did your husband go missing, my dear?"

"The babysitter called. She's only twelve and she has a math test in school tomorrow. Steve has gone home to look after Randy."

She opened her eyes, opened her mouth, stared over Emma's shoulder, and held her breath.

"But apparently we've gotten a replacement here?" She let out a girlish giggle, and Emma wasn't sure this behavior could really be chalked up to the sedative. The handsome and famous athlete was probably reason enough to act weird.

"Oh, right," Emma said, as if she had all but forgotten Luke's presence, and waved her hand back and forth between them. "Luke, this is my sister Milla. Milla, this is Luke."

Milla blushed violently and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said in English, then threw her sister a look and added more quietly in German: "I always thought that those muscles were photoshopped, but he really looks hot. A lot hotter than in the magazines!"

Emma pressed her lips together and tilted her head to one side. "Yeah. And he also speaks fluent German."

Milla blushed all over again. "Oh well, doesn't matter. No need to be embarrassed if you're telling the truth."

Luke gave her a wide grin. "I agree."

Emma shook her head and put a hand over her eyes. "Oh yeah, go on and massage his ego. He's so damn insecure about himself."

"Your sister is simply polite," Luke protested and winked at Milla. Emma's sister emitted a small sigh.

"No, she's been put on drugs …" Emma corrected him.

"Interesting. Does that mean you're going to be polite if you're pumped full of the right substances? You and she are related after all."

Emma slowly turned on the edge of the bed, and crossed her arms, pressing them against her chest. "I reconsidered. I don't accept your apology after all. For a brief moment, I forgot that you're an idiot."

Milla tugged at Emma's sleeve, a confused expression on her face. "Why is he an idiot?" she asked, before turning to Luke and repeating: "Why are you an idiot?"

Luke lifted his index finger in Milla's direction, indicating she should be patient for another moment, before saying: "You can't take back an apology you've already accepted."

"Who says so?"

"Everyone says so."

"Bullshit. I wasn't of sound mind. The situation here in the hospital has made me temporarily mentally instable. That's what people in court use as an excuse all the time, right?"

"We're not in a court."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "So? Considering the legal system over here, I could take you to court in no time."

"Steve knows a good lawyer," Milla chimed in with a yawn, and took her hand off Emma's sleeve.

Emma gave Luke a triumphant grin. As if that settled everything. "There you have it. I–"

"Mrs. Ronsen?" A young nurse had stuck her head in, clipboard in hand.

Milla nodded and mechanically lifted a hand. She had her eyes half closed again. "Here. I'm the one in the open gown."

The nurse stood next to the bed, stared at Luke for a few seconds, blinked, and apparently concluded that she must be seeing a phantasm, for then she cleared her throat again. "I have a few forms for you to fill out, your medical history and such. And then I need to transfer your data to the computer in the room at the end of the hallway."

Milla opened her eyes again and tried to sit up in the bed with an exhausted expression, but Emma pushed her down again gently.

"Let me take care of that," she said quickly and rose from the bed. "I know every detail of your medical history, up to your last sneezing cold. You get some rest; I'll be back in a few."

***

Luke watched Emma leave the room, and all he felt was relief that she had forgiven him.

This quality of relief was unfamiliar to him. It wasn't the kind you felt when you had made it in time for an appointment, even after you thought you would be late. Nor was it the kind you felt when you'd spent a sleepless night with someone. It was a blissful relief.

"Right," Milla spoke up again, as soon as Emma had pulled the door shut behind her. "So you're the man who is sleeping with my sister."

He had to blink several times, before he realized that she had actually said that. He was not a shameful man, but in this moment, he actually felt himself blush. He cleared his throat and pulled up a stool, sitting down by her bedside. He felt it was better if he sat through the next moments. "Uh … is there even a correct answer to this question?"

Milla laughed, and the sound was very familiar. "That was not a question, but a statement. Emma tells me everything." Her eyes flashed with amusement, and Luke could only hope that ‘everything' here didn't mean literally everything.

"Okay," he admitted slowly, "then I guess I'm the man who is sleeping with your sister."

He shifted nervously on his stool, feeling embarrassed. He'd never been forced to have a conversation like this before.

Milla's grin widened. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you about your intentions."

That took a load off his mind, because he wouldn't know what to answer to such a question. Not now, not ever.

"That's reassuring."

Milla sat up a little and tilted her head to one side. "What do you know about Emma?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew where to kiss her to elicit a low moan and make her murmur his name. He knew that she put several spoonfuls of chocolate sprinkles on top of a cup of yogurt and called that dinner. He knew she still had no inkling of how baseball really worked, but that didn't keep her from getting excited when he told her about a game.

But he also knew that those probably weren't the points Milla was getting at.

"What do you mean?" he therefore asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

Milla studied him with a calculating gaze for several moments, as if debating whether he was ready for her next words.

She finally uttered a loud sigh and let her hands fall heavily on the cover. "Okay, listen. I love my sister, and I know she is strong and blunt, and appears unbreakable in every way. But she's not. She used to have a fiancé who told her she wasn't good enough, so the last thing she needs is one of your discarded affairs making a scene and telling her that she could never be enough for a man like you."

He knit his brows and drummed his fingers on his thigh. What was she talking about?

"Discarded affairs?"

Milla waved her hand in his direction. "You know, your bimbos."

He blinked. "What bimbo said what exactly?"

This was news to him. Emma had never mentioned anyone making a scene.

Milla stared off into space and shook her head. "No idea who she was. Emma simply said there was a blonde with breasts that could kill a person …"

Brittany.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. That was what had bothered Emma on the terrace at the gala night. Brittany had been the cause of her disenchantment!

He smoothed his brows with his thumb and index finger, feeling a headache coming on. "That wasn't an affair, it was just …"

Well, what was it? All he could think of was the term ‘bimbo.' He shook his head. "Doesn't matter who she is. Why would Emma believe the bullshit some playmate bitch throws at her?"

The thought that Emma might not be good enough for someone seemed quite absurd.

Milla gave him a pitying smile. "You really have a lot to learn, Luke. Women tend to believe almost everything if it's criticism. Especially women who've been accused of not fitting into the fabulous life of a handsome, rich man before."

"Who …? Oh."

Her fiancé. And once again, everything suddenly fell into place.

I just let him into my head, though he had no business being there.Shit. She really was insecure. And that was why she had been so upset when he had thrown that at her. Because he'd been right. "I didn't know that Brittany … Emma didn't say anything."

"Of course not. Because she wants to appear strong, so she doesn't make herself vulnerable," Milla sighed, sounding as if she was explaining the obvious. For a woman under sedatives, she formulated impressively astute sentences.

"She's my little sister, and she hates me for still wanting to protect her, but …" She gave him a sober look, cleared her throat, and then said in a grave voice: "I simply don't want you to hurt her, do you hear me?"

Milla studied him with an expression that suggested she might have mafia connections. "And keep your women in check, before they get a chance to pounce on her like the furies they are!"

Luke didn't like the expression ‘your women.' Milla seemed to have a very distinctive idea of him in her head. Probably the same kind of idea every person who read magazines must have.

He leaned back on his stool. "I don't think I can actually hurt her, to be honest."

Milla gave him another pitying look. "Oh Luke. If there's anyone who can hurt her, it's you."