“What is it?”

“June fourteen,” she says. “The day my agent called me to tell me Lionsgate was interested in turning Nightfall into a movie.”

“I didn’t know that. How did you end up with it streaming?”

“That’s what I preferred,” she tells me, and I unlock her phone, going to the text messages. “It took nearly a full year after that to get the deal I have now. Worth the wait, though.”

“I’d say. What’s your assistant’s name?”

“Olivia. She should be one of the top text you see.”

“Yeah, found her. What do you want me to say?”

“Um…I’m sick and won’t be able to do the live tomorrow and then take a picture of me to send with it.”

“Easy enough,” I say and quickly type out the message and snap a photo of Chloe.

“Thank you,” she tells me. “You’re such a good guy, Sam.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. “I’m not.”

“Funny.”

“I…I mean it, Chloe.” I swallow hard, feeling the ground going out beneath my feet.

"No…I’m not.”

19

Chloe

Sam’s brows furrow and he looks at the floor, slowly shaking his head. “Chloe,” he starts, flicking his eyes up to look at me. I’m taken aback by the pain on his face. Did I hear him correctly? He said he’s not a good guy…what? Sam is the best guy I know. He’s caring and attentive, smart and driven, confident and cocky just enough to be oh-so-hot without being an overbearing asshole. He’s a hard worker, is family oriented. He makes me laugh. Makes me feel safe.

Makes me feel beautiful and worthy.

He’s the best fucking guy in the whole world.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, tipping my head as I look at him.

He wrings his hands and looks at the floor for a moment. “Being with you has made me happier than I ever knew I could be.”

“You make me happy too.”

He looks up, blinking a few times and looking more emotional now than I’ve ever seen him before. “All I ever wanted in life was to call you mine.”

“I am yours.”

“I don’t deserve you, though.”

My mind is still fuzzy from the drugs. Sam is either going to propose or break up with me, and judging by the look on his face…fuck. My pulse picks up, causing the heart monitor to give out a warning beep.

“Sam,” I say in a panic and sit up too fast, going to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, forgetting I precariously slipped my arm under my pillow to try and get as comfortable as possible. My IV line catches and my vision blurs.

Sam rushes over, gently laying me back down. “I shouldn’t have moved that fast,” I groan. “I feel sick again.”

“Close your eyes, take a minute,” he tells me. The nurse comes in, having been alerted that there was a change in my heart rate.

“She sat up too quickly,” Sam tells her and looks at the monitors.

“I forgot about the wires,” I say, still aware my heart is beating fast. I’m lightheaded again because for a second there, I thought Sam was going to break up with me. It’s crazy, right? Yeah…crazy.

“You said you felt sick,” Sam says, sky-blue eyes piercing into mine and he gently smooths my hair back. “Do you still?”

“No.” The twist of nausea was also from thinking I was going to get dumped right here in the hospital. Though, I’m still weak and moving that fast was a bad idea. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Can she get something for the nausea? Nothing’s been prescribed and she’s felt sick all day,” Sam notes, and the nurse looks a little annoyed, mumbling something about how the anesthesiologist of course wants more drugs. Sam’s here as my boyfriend, not as my doctor, and I know it’s killing him not to intervene, both because it’s in his nature and because he’s protective of me.

And he’s not going to break up with me.

“I’ll phone the doctor on call.”

“Thank you,” he tells her and helps me fix my pillow again. The nurse goes around and presses a button on the monitor, making the beeping alarm stop. She does a quick assessment and goes back to the nurses’ station to call in a request for medicine to help me not feel sick.

“What were you going to say?” I ask Sam, sliding my hand down his arm.

“Nothing,” he says.

“It didn’t seem like nothing. You…you seemed upset.”

He sits on the edge of the bed and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “No, it’s not…it’s…I don’t like seeing you sick. I feel bad for leaving you this morning.”

“Sam.” I turn my head, looking at him and feeling a little emotional, which tends to happen when I don’t feel like this. “If you didn’t leave, I’d still get a migraine, you’d still take me to the ER, and I’d still be given the same medication which would mean I’d be right here.”

“You’re sexy when you’re rational.”

“I’m glad you still think so after holding my hair back when I puked.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make me not find you attractive.”

“You’re too kind.” I slowly move to the side of the bed. “Will you snuggle with me?”

“Of course, babe.” Sam helps me move and gets in bed next to me, taking off his shoes and sticking his feet under the covers.

“This is much more comfortable.” I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. “Thanks again for taking care of me.”

“Stop thanking me, Chloe. I love you. Of course I’m going to take care of you, and I know you’d do the same thing for me.”

“I would.”

“In a sexy nurse outfit, I’d hope.”

“I wouldn’t dream of taking care of you any other way.”

“Now I kind of want to get sick.”

“You can just fake it.” I turn my head to cough and reach for my water. Sam gets it for me and holds the straw to my lips so I can get a drink.

“Get some sleep,” he tells me, gently running his fingers through my hair.

“Wake me before you leave.”

“I will. I love you, Chloe.”

“Hey, guys!” I say, holding up my phone, recording a quick Instagram story. Once Rebecca, my assistant, posted that I wasn’t able to do my live interview this morning, I’ve gotten an overwhelming amount of messages, emails, and comments on all of my social media channels wishing me well and asking for an update. I don’t have anything to update anyone on, since I’m still waiting on one myself.

It’s ten-thirty, and I’ve been impatiently waiting to hear if I’m going home or not. The doctor came in at seven-fucking-thirty AM, waking me up again after I’d just fallen asleep from the new nurse waking me to do her rounds. I’m tired, a little crabby, and just want to go home, take a nap in bed next to Sam, and then make the two-hour drive to Chicago…where I can go back to sleep. I am doing better, thankfully. My pulse and blood pressure stayed at normal rates throughout the night, and the monitors were able to be disconnected.