Maryann was on the bed. She was still as astonishingly beautiful as she'd always been. Albert stood still, gazing at her sleeping figure under the white hospital bedspread. He was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. She was fast asleep, so he was meant to just leave. Yet instead of leaving to ask the front desk nurses for directions to her doctor's office, Albert stayed exactly where he was, his icy-blue eyes focused on the bed's occupant.
Her right shoulder and upper arm were swathed in an ice pack. Her face was very pale; the livid bruise marring the sweet curve of her jawline stood out in sharp contrast to the creamy skin. Her head, which he'd always believed to be made of stone due to her strong-headedness, was severely bandaged.
His jaw a hard line, Albert continued his scrutiny. One of her legs was set up in a cast and her arms were bruised.
