He Said a Female Bestie Is Fine—So I Got a Male One Chapter 09

He Said a Female Bestie Is Fine—So I Got a Male One Chapter 09

After the anesthesia hit, I was out.

I had no idea that I was about to go through a race against death itself,

“She’s bleeding out and we can’t stop it!” The doctor slammed through the OR doors. “Family? We need a signature! Now!”

Lucas just stood there, blank, as a clipboard was shoved into his chest.

“I… I’m not…” He swallowed. “I’m not family. I can’t. Her parents aren’t here. And her husband, he’s not

picking up.”

“I don’t care! Find him! Call him again! She’s crashing!”

The doctor’s face was a mask of urgency.

That snapped Lucas out of his daze and he started frantically dialing Ethan’s nurnber.

He called. And called. And called again. He lost count somewhere after thirty.

Nothing.

On the last try, the line didn’t just ring. It was rejected.

Lucas’s panic gave way to a cold, frantic desperation and then shattered into pure, unadulterated fury.

“Pick up your goddamn phone!” he screamed into the empty corridor, his voice echoing off the sterile walls.

“Ethan! Your wife is dying! She’s dying, and you’re… what? Singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Chloe? Pick up your

goddamn phone!”

The waiting room had gone silent. Patients and nurses alike were watching the tall, handsome man fail

apart, his words landing like hammer blows.

People were muttering, calling Ethan every name in the book, trying to figure out a way to help.

Then someone in the crowd said, “If you can’t reach him, try calling someone who can.”

It was like a light bulb went off. Lucas grabbed my phone and dialed another number from my contacts.

Fifteen minutes later, Ethan came barreling through the hospital doors, his parents right behind him.

His clothes were a disaster, covered in cake and frosting, his tie hanging loose and crooked around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair soaking wet.

I learned all of this later, after I woke up, from Lucas.

“They said your uterine wall is thin. Like, naturally.” He still looked pale. “It caused the bleeding. But they got it stopped. You’re okay. They saved everything.”

He was talking about how lucky I’d been.

I just stared at the ceiling for a moment before asking, “Is he still here? On his knees?”

This time when he knelt in the hospital hallway, no one was making excuses for him. Not a single person tried to plead his case.

His parents knew they had no ground to stand on.

After the surgery my mother-in-law, Linda, had sat with me for a while, trying to offer what comfort she could. Before she left, she held my hand, her grip tight and a little desperate.

“Grace, honey,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given this family so much, Grace. More

than we ever deserved. And my son…” She shook her head. “He’s a lost cause. I see that now. If you want out,

we won’t fight you. Not a word. You do whatever you need to do.”

I came back to the present and looked at Lucas. He was watching me with a wary, complicated expression.

“Help me up,” I said. “I want to go out there.”

Lucas looked like he wanted to argue but knew better than to try. He got me settled into a wheelchair and

pushed me toward the door.

Out in the hallway, Ethan was still kneeling, his back ramrod straight despite the wrinkled, slept-in suit he

was still wearing. There was a dark bruise blooming on his cheekbone, a parting gift from Lucas.

He hadn’t even tried to fight back, not in front of all those people.

And now, even with more people walking by and staring, the man who usually hated being the center of

attention refused to move an inch.

When he saw me, his face crumpled with a mix of grief and anguish.

Before he could get a word out, I tossed a manila folder onto the floor in front of him.

“You lost,” I said.

Three simple words. The blood drained from Ethan’s face.

The corridor was noisy with the hushed whispers of onlookers, but none of it could drown out the sound of

his ragged, heavy breathing.

He didn’t even glance at the papers on the floor. His eyes were locked on me, and I could see the gears turning in his head.

It didn’t take him long to figure it out.

“You did this on purpose,” he said, his voice raw with pain and accusation. “You picked today just to make

me choose. Just to make me regret it.”

He let out a guttural sound of pure agony and slammed the heel of his hand against his own temple.

I just rolled my eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, my voice still weak and a little shaky. I was leaning against the wall for

support.

“It wouldn’t have mattered what you chose. I was never going to keep it.”

paused, letting the words hang there.

‘And I knew you couldn’t do it anyway.”

it was such a simple request. Just one month. One month with no contact from Chloe Bennett.

And he couldn’t manage it.

“She saved us. When we were kids.” His voice was hollow. “We promised. Her birthday. All of us. Every

year.”

The story came out then. When Ethan and his friends were in third grade, they’d gotten it into their heads to

go on some grand adventure.

They’d found an abandoned boxcar by the river and decided to sleep in it overnight. When they woke up the

next morning they were thousands of feet in the air, the boxcar swinging precariously from a crane.

Chloe, who had secretly followed them, had seen what happened and managed to alert someone, saving

their lives.

From that day on, she was one of them. The protected baby.

But that was their world. Their rules. Nothing to do with me. Not anymore.

Ethan finally agreed to the divorce.