Chapter 1
Lenora's POV:
My boyfriend had a serious problem with procrastination. In all our time together, the word I heard most was "wait".
He would promise to clean the place, but even when flies swarmed the takeout containers, he would tell me to wait until the trash can was full so he could take care of everything at once. He would promise to wash the dishes, but long after the grease had dried, they would still be sitting untouched on the table.
Every time, I would end up cleaning up for him because I couldn't stand the mess anymore. I'd always thought there was no need to keep such a strict tally of who did what when you shared a life.
Then I ran a fever of 104°F and begged him to take me to the hospital. He agreed, but stayed in his room playing video games. He didn't call an ambulance until I passed out, and even then he was in no hurry.
By the time I woke up, I'd developed pneumonia. What had started as an ordinary fever had become much more serious. He complained that I'd picked the worst possible time to get sick. I'd distracted him and made him lose his game.
When a nurse brought my medication, she asked him to go to the billing desk in the inpatient wing. He didn't even look up. His fingers flew across his phone screen as he played.
"Just wait."
He'd barely finished speaking when a girl's playfully sulky voice came through his phone.
"This is all your fault. You kept me playing, and now I've missed the last bus. What am I supposed to do?"
He immediately grabbed his car keys and stood up.
"It isn't safe for a girl to go home alone at night. I'll come get you right now."
I froze. I recognized that voice. It was the very same voice as the one in Desmond Voss's ringtone.
By the time I snapped out of it, Desmond already had his hand on the doorknob.
I called him back. "Desmond, the nurse said you needed to pay at the billing desk."
He glanced over his shoulder at my IV bag.
"There's only half a bag left. You can go down and pay the bill yourself in a little while."
"But the nurse said I need another bag after this one," I said, my voice tight.
He frowned and clicked his tongue in irritation.
"It's not like you're dying. Can't you wait until you've finished both bags?"
He slammed the door hard enough to make the room shake. His cruel words left my mind blank. I could feel people staring at me from all around the room, and I lowered my head in humiliation.
After a while, a woman visiting the patient in the next bed picked up the admission slip from my bedside table.
"Sweetheart, that boyfriend of yours has a nasty mouth. I'll go pay for you."
I fought back tears and forced the words past the lump in my throat.
"Thank you. I'll transfer the money to you in a bit."
Whenever I asked Desmond to collect a package for me, it would still be sitting at the pickup point long after the tracking system showed it had been delivered there. Yet just now, he'd seemed ready to fly straight to that girl's side, all because she'd missed a bus.
Paying my hospital bill wouldn't have taken 10 minutes, but he couldn't spare even that much time for me. The hurt gnawed at my chest until the tears spilled over. Procrastination wasn't his problem. I was simply the only person he made wait.
I suddenly remembered our first Valentine's Day together. I'd ordered a cake and taken it to his college to see him. He told me to wait outside his dorm. He would be right down.
I waited for 3 hours. When I called to hurry him along, all he said was, "I'll be there in a minute."
My feet had gone numb and my makeup was ruined by the time visiting hours at his dorm ended. Only then did he finally wander downstairs. With the entrance gate between us, he apologized.
"Sorry, Lenora. You know how I procrastinate. I accidentally fell asleep. You'll have to eat the cake yourself. Happy Valentine's Day. I love you."
Then he went back upstairs.
When my best friend heard what had happened, she grabbed a broom and was ready to go teach him a lesson. I hurried to stop her.
"Let it go. He had classes all day. He's probably exhausted. We can celebrate another time, once he's rested."
She poked my forehead, exasperated.
"Then keep waiting! Just don't wait until he's married with kids to realize you aren't the bride!"
I'd brushed it off at the time. Only now did I begin to realize what a fool I'd made of myself. Still, I didn't want to admit it.
When Desmond had first pursued me, I'd mentioned craving the pastries a neighboring city was known for. He'd taken an express train there that very night just to buy them for me. There had been a time when he hadn't made me wait, either.
My final IV infusion had finished when Desmond pushed open the door.
"You must be Lenora. Desmond never told any of us he had a girlfriend. If I hadn't pressed him about why he'd lost the game, he'd still be keeping you a secret."
The girl who'd come back with him linked her arm through mine as though we were old friends. In doing so, she pressed against the IV catheter in my hand. Pain shot through me before I could even take in the implications of what she'd said, and I cried out.
Desmond frowned and set a container of soup on the bedside table.
"Cecily's saying hello. What are you screaming for?"
I stared at him, my eyes red with tears.
Cecily Mercer smiled and explained, "Don't blame her, Desmond. I accidentally pressed on the needle in her hand."
His lips curved as he looked at her.
"It's fine. Don't feel bad. She can take it."
