Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancee (Page 48)

“Then you assume this is the best course of treatment,” I ask. Marie, Jason and Amy have fallen silent, jaws slightly open, minds blown like mine.

Dr. Porter looks at Shannon’s chart, hooks it to the end of the bed, and pats her foot, speaking directly to Shannon. “Let’s get you into X-ray and go from there, but most of the time just eliminating the foreign object and letting the digestive tract do its job is the least invasive course.”

“You are going to shit diamonds,” Amy says to Shannon. She starts to clap.

“A gold brick,” Marie adds with a knowing grin.

“Platinum.” My correction goes unnoticed. I’m imagining Andrew right now, texting Dad, and the laugh they’re about to have about this.

It’s not like dropping a phone in the toilet.

“This will be the most expensive poop in history,” Jason adds.

“Diamonds are forever,” Amy jokes. “Until you eat the prunes.”

The medical assistant, Felicia, picks up the French fry trays and an instruction sheet. “So, Shannon,” she starts.

Marie interrupts her. “Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘You want fries with that?’”

I look at Marie, who starts to giggle. Jason joins in, followed by Amy. While it’s funny—it really is, on the face of it—the look of pure, unadulterated horror on Shannon’s face makes me realize my place in this world.

Time to be the asshole.

“Get out,” I demand, the words booming in the room, as if my voice is the only sound that matters.

And it is.

“You can’t make us just—”

I cut Marie off. “Yes. I can.” Amy, Marie and Jason stand their ground.

“Shannon’s a grown woman who can—”

“Shannon is a weeping pile of gorgeousness who is traumatized by swallowing the ring and now doubly traumatized by having a Keystone Kops family humiliating her, so you all need to leave!”

My lovely future wife gives me a grateful look.

Marie shoots Jason a look that might as well say Show your balls.

He opens his mouth and says, “Declan, I know this is upsetting, and you feel guilty for being so reckless with your mother’s ring, but—”

“OUT!”

He flinches. Marie just gets angrier.

The medical assistant now checking Shannon’s oxygen stats hands gives me a thumbs up.

“Look here,” Marie blusters. “I know you think you’re this dominant—”

That’s it. I move swiftly, my blood on fire. Shannon’s crying, Dr. Derjian is rubbing her shoulder, and the jokes are out of control. Amy gets to the threshold and hovers.

All that’s left are Marie and Jason.

“I am Shannon’s husband,” I declare.

“Not yet,” Marie hisses. “And I’m her mother, and I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“You are all that’s left that is making her not okay.”

She looks like I slapped her.

“Once we’re married, I’m her legal next of kin,” I stress. There is no way they’re winning this one. Tough shit, lady. I love you and your crazy family and your wonderful daughter, but I have had it up to here.

And here, ironically, is where the ring got stuck in Shannon.

“You’re not married yet.”

“We can fix that easily within twenty-four hours.”

Marie is horrified. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Jason cocks one eyebrow.

Shannon looks at him, then her mother, and just nods, pointing to the door.

“You wouldn’t really just go to the courthouse and get married, would you? Without me there? Without the flowers and the dress and the cake and the helicopter and the President and—”

At some point Shannon gets her hands on a notepad and a pen. She scribbles furiously and holds it up.

It says:

VEGAS

“Noooooooooooo!” Marie moans.

“Todd and Carol may have been onto something,” I say.

Jason’s silent, just watching us all, eyebrows turned in with concern as he settles on Shannon. I look at her and she reaches for my hand.

“I want to be alone,” she rasps. “With Declan.”

“But—”

Jason slides his arm around Marie’s waist and turns her, like a square dancer. Allemande left and out the door….

“Let’s go, Marie.”

“He can’t just—”

“Yes, he can. He just did.”

She turns around and gives us both a red-rimmed look with pleading eyes. “Don’t really run off to Vegas. Can you imagine if you pooped that ring out in a public toilet in a casino? You would—”

I cross the room and yank the curtain closed. It’s not nearly as satisfying as slamming a door. Too bad there’s no lock.

Shannon sags against the bed, her entire body relaxing.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t talk. No need to thank me. It’s my job now.”

“But you were kind of an asshole.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

She motions for my phone and types:

Remember how you’re supposed to think about other people’s feelings before you pound your chest and call yourself silverback?

My jaw could shovel sidewalks.

“You’re making me the bad guy here? They were being jerks to you.”

That’s just how they are, she types. They joke because they love me. They’re family.

“Then I don’t know how to family!”

“What?” she gasps.