Thirty Days To Marry: The Doctor's Escape

them closed, trying to bargain with her own physiology, but the sunlight slicing through the blinds was relentless. It wasn't the s

the guest

ngling around her legs, and fumbled blindly for her phone on the nightstand. She needed to check the time. Sh

the device. She brought it to her face

15

reen. It was from a messaging app she rarely used, encry

ugh name, the German equivalent of Smith, but this specific person was a complete blank. Her thumb hovered over the screen,

ocked t

roposal. Let's

ying to pierce the fog of the hangover. Last night. Aunt Rosa's cramped apartment in

ars, mija. You're thirty. No ring. No hou

ablet. My neighbor's grandson. Carleton. Good boy. Boring job, some kind of actuary with nu

the message. She had been angry, her thumbs flying over the keypad with a vindictive

e, let's just marry. I'm a doctor.

the screen n

runched numbers for a living while she stitched up patients at St. Augustine's. She couldn't marry a stranger. She

flew across

I was drunk. P

sound was distinct-heavy heels striking the marble

a! Co

t wasn't a request. It wasn't a greeting. It was a command, shoute

humb hovered over

e in; he just rattled it to make sure she wa

room. It was the sound of her last eight year

phone. At the strange

talk about his portfolio, about the charity gala, about how Delisa was just a "friend" who need

't send the

irty days.

hard clarity of survival. She pressed the backspace key, deleting the apo

d a new

One

before she

rked as delive

grounding her. She walked to the en-suite bathroom and splashed freezing water on her face. She looked at her reflection.

elled again, his

didn't rush. For the first time in years, her hea

knob. She took a deep breath, inhaling the stale air of t

ened t