His Gift Was For Her, I Left

At the hospital, while waiting for my test results, Dax took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. He held my hand, cold and clammy with sweat. "Don't worry. It's gonna be fine." His voice was low and gentle, but I could see the fear in his eyes. I forced a smile and nodded. Truth was, I'd had a feeling something was wrong for the past two months. But I'd been swamped with filming, so I kept putting it off. It wasn't until I physically couldn't push through anymore that I finally told him I needed to get checked out. Dax canceled a business trip and stayed with me through every single test. The doctor suggested I stay for observation. So he stayed too. Every night. Every time I woke up, I'd find him passed out in the chair next to my bed. I told him he didn't have to. The nurses and doctors could handle me. He ruffled my hair, all soft and sweet. "I don't trust anyone else to take care of you." The nurse nearby gave me this envious look. "Miss Monroe, Mr. Harrington's really something else." Dax raised an eyebrow at me, like he was waiting for praise. I just gave him a tired smile. He was good to me. I couldn't deny that. And if I hadn't seen the messages on his phone—him and his little bird, all lovey-dovey—I might've actually been touched. Dax: The only reason I haven't dumped her yet is 'cause she's famous. Bad press would mess with my company. I'm so over her face anyway. And the girl he'd saved as "Sweetie" on his phone replied: Sweetie: So it's a deal then? Once your company's stable, you'll leave her and marry me?