Chapter 6 - The Man With the Ring Box
Thatcher arrived at the hospital shortly before noon.
He wore jeans and a wrinkled blue shirt. His hair looked like he'd been dragging his hands through it for hours.
He stood in the doorway, holding a paper bag.
“I brought you something to eat.”
“Hospital food isn't that bad.”
“I tasted the cafeteria oatmeal. I disagree.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
He pulled up a chair and set the bag on my bedside table.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “I'm sorry.”
“You didn't push me.”
“No. But I knew she was angry about your brace. I should have taken her seriously.”
“People complain about wedding photographs, Thatcher. You couldn't have known she'd do that.”
He studied his hands.
“When she said she could get you out of the pictures, I thought she meant she'd change the lineup. Then I saw her put her arm out.”
I opened Alina's video.
“Watch this.”
His face changed as the footage played.
At the shove, he stopped breathing for a moment.
When Sloan's laughter came through the speaker, he closed his eyes.
“She told me she lost her balance,” he said.
“She told everyone that.”
“I saw her push you. I just didn't understand how deliberate it was until I watched it again.”
He asked me to send him a copy. I did.
Then I told him about the credit card.
He looked up sharply.
“What credit card?”
I explained the charge.
His expression went from confusion to disbelief.
“Your parents told me they paid Seacliff last month.”
“Apparently they didn't.”
“Judson said they had everything covered.”
“They did. With my employer's money.”
Thatcher stood and walked toward the window.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he asked, “Has Sloan contacted you?”
“She sent me seventeen messages.”
“What did she say?”
“Mostly that I should apologize.”
His face tightened.
“That sounds familiar.”
He took a small velvet box from his pocket.
The same one he'd been holding on the staircase.
“My grandmother's wedding ring,” he said. “I was supposed to give it to Sloan tomorrow.”
“The wedding's today.”
“I know.”
He looked at the ring, then closed the box.
“I've spent a year telling myself that the way Sloan treats people is just stress. She's been rude to the planners. She's humiliated waiters. She made a bridesmaid cry because her hair color looked different under the ballroom lights.”
He swallowed.
“And every time, I told myself she was under pressure.”
“Thatcher—”
“No. I need to say this.”
He put the ring box back in his pocket.
“I loved the version of Sloan who made me feel like I was the most important person in the world.”
Then he looked at my injured leg.
“I didn't pay enough attention to how she treated everyone else.”
His phone started ringing.
Sloan.
He stared at the screen.
Then he answered.
“I'm at the hospital,” he said.
I could hear my sister shouting.
May you like
He waited until she stopped.
“No,” he said quietly. “I'm not coming to the ceremony until we talk about what happened.”
