Dead?
Daphne’s POV
I didn’t get home until late that night, the hospital clock ticking past 9 p.m. before I finally clocked out. Sara Wellington, insisting I call her Sara now, had kept me longer than usual, and I loved every minute of it. She was a burst of sunshine in that sterile private ward, her energy contagious despite her fragile condition. When I walked in that afternoon, tray of medical supplies in hand, she greeted me with a wide grin.
“If it isn’t our celebrity nurse,” she said, her voice teasing as she propped herself up on her pillows.
I tried to play innocent, shrugging with a shy smile, but she wasn’t having it. “Oh, don’t think I don’t read the gossip blogs,” she continued, wagging a finger at me. “I specifically requested you, my celebrity nurse for a celebrity wife.
