Like a reprieve, Deven’s phone vibrated in her hand, and she silently thanked the high Heavens for the interruption. “Okay, let me get discharged and get home to rest for a bit,” she said. “And I’ll let you know. I have to take this, excuse me.” Then in an effort to dismiss her, Deven answered her phone right in her face, praying it was her sister. “Hello, Kennedy?” Janice rolled her eyes, but she took a hint and backed out of the room.

“Hey Deven.” Not Kennedy. Paul.

Deven struggled to keep the exasperation out of her voice as she slid her eyes to the clock. “Hey, Paul. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just checking on you. How are you?”

Sore, and pissed, thanks to Kennedy and now Janice. Exhausted. Ready to go home. Grieving. But admitting all that was probably not what he wanted to hear. So instead, she just said, “I’m hanging in there.”

“That’s good. I know I haven’t called because I wanted to give you time to rest, but I have been talking to the nurses to make sure you were okay.” He was such a sweetheart. If only . . .

“Thank you, by the way,” Deven said, her eyes growing misty at the memory of when she first collapsed. Paul had jumped right into action with making sure she got the medical attention she needed. It had happened so fast, and she knew she’d been nothing but a screaming, crying, bleeding, blubbering mess. And he was right there when she needed someone most.

“No need to thank me,” he said, the smile in his voice. “I’m sorry it happened, but glad I was there to help. How long are you staying?”

“I’m actually supposed to be leaving.” Deven started to add the bit about Kennedy’s no-show, but she figured Paul had already done enough to help. On top of helping with her miscarriage, listening to her complain was probably a little excessive.

“Okay good. Well do you need anything?”

Deven started to decline, but her eyes slid back to the clock once more. “Actually, yes. Do you mind picking me up?”

Of course, he didn’t mind. Paul was pulling up within the hour, pushing her out to his Jaguar in one of the hospital wheelchairs. Deven still hadn’t heard from Kennedy, but at that point, she would deal with her later.

They rode in comfortable silence, the windows down a crack to let a little of the February air seep through. Deven’s head bopped on the leather seat, the quiet purr of the engine threatening to lull her to sleep. She couldn’t tell if it was the car, the company, or the fast-food burger he’d brought and insisted she eat, but Deven was completely satiated. And for a brief moment, she had completely forgotten about her pain. She had Paul to thank for that.