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“All right,” Laura answered. “I’ll be waiting.”

Martin clicked off the phone and assessed his current condition. He had a headache that seemed to be awakening and gaining steam. His chest hurt like hell when he took a deep breath, and his knee was throbbing away underneath the sheets. His car was still in the hospital’s parking garage. He had four more pain pills and would need to find a way to fill his prescription soon.

Hoping for a miracle, Martin shifted his legs to the edge of the bed, placed his feet on the floor, and tried to put weight on his injured knee.

It hurt like hell.

There was no way that he could attend Daniel Ashley’s surprise party tonight. Even with crutches, the doctor had warned him that the first three days would be tough, and restricting his mobility would be best. Though he had never been pleased with the notion of attending a party for a client, the prospect of canceling on Laura pained him more than any of his physical ailments. Missing an opportunity to spend some time with her was bad, but the thought of disappointing her was almost too much to bear.

But he had no choice.

Martin spent the next ten minutes reviewing what he would say to her, and then dialed her number, which he knew by heart.

Laura picked up on the first ring. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Martin had anticipated a question like this, and his response was well rehearsed. “I have some bad news.”

“Let me guess. You don’t know how to dance.”

“No,” Martin replied, though this too was true. “I had an accident last night. I fell down the stairs in my house and broke my leg.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, I’m serious. I broke my leg and a few ribs and I have a concussion. Or I had one. I don’t know how long a concussion lasts.”

There was a long pause before Laura finally spoke. “I’m not kidding around, Martin. Tell me. Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so. It was an ugly fall,” Martin said. He had originally planned on using the word “nasty” to describe the fall but felt that it might sound too cliché. “I’m so sorry, Laura. I know how excited you were about tonight.”

“I’m coming over. Give me your address.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Martin said, regretting it almost immediately. He would need help in getting through the day, and there was no one in the world he wanted by his side more than Laura.

“Shut up and give me the address.”

“Really it’s not…”

“Martin, shut the hell up and give me your address. Now.”

Martin did so and, before he could say another word, the line went dead.

Less than thirty minutes later, Laura burst through Martin’s front door, shouting, “Where the hell are you?”

Expecting her arrival, Martin had managed to don a T-shirt and slide a pair of sweatpants over his leg immobilizer before descending the stairs, one at a time. In the downstairs bathroom, he swallowed the last of his pain pills and brushed his teeth before unlocking the front door and ambling over to the couch to wait for Laura’s arrival. This would be her first visit to his home, and though it had been unexpected, Martin was relieved to see that the house, save the unmade bed upstairs, was in its usual order.

“In here,” Martin answered, making no attempt to move. Though he had taken the pain medication almost fifteen minutes ago, it had yet to make its presence known. Even the brushing of his teeth had caused him considerable ache.

“Oh my God! You were serious,” Laura said, rushing over and reaching out to embrace him.

“Careful,” Martin warned, shying away. “My ribs are pretty sore.” He could see from the look on Laura’s face that she was genuinely concerned. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. Or at least I will be.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Martin spent the next twenty minutes explaining to Laura how he had been on his way to the kitchen for a midnight snack when he missed a stair and fell. He told her about his visit to the emergency room, the diagnosis of his injuries, and his prognosis. For once, Laura listened intently with few interruptions, waiting until Martin seemed finished before speaking.