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Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson
img img Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson img Chapter 8 8
8 Chapters
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 8 8

The doctor was young, tired, and blunt.

"Your white blood cell count is elevated, and based on the location of the pain and your rebound tenderness, I strongly suspect acute appendicitis," she said, looking at the chart. "This isn't something you can ignore, Mrs. Carlson. You need to go to an emergency room for a surgical consult. Immediately."

She handed Alexia a referral form. "You need to reduce stress. You need to rest. And you need surgery. If you keep going like this, you're going to end up in the ER with a rupture, and that's life-threatening."

Alexia took the form. Her hands were shaking. "Can I... can I wait a day? I just need one more day."

The doctor looked at her like she was crazy. "Can you? Maybe. Should you? Absolutely not. I'm prescribing you the strongest painkillers I can, but this is a temporary, dangerous solution."

Alexia swallowed two of the pills she gave her right there in the office.

Her phone buzzed.

Aubree: Hey girl! I feel terrible about last night. Let me make it up to you. Lunch at Le Coucou? Just us girls. We need to talk about Jensen's birthday. I want to make sure I don't step on your toes!

It was a trap. Alexia knew it was a trap.

But if she didn't go, Aubree would tell Jensen she was being difficult. She would spin it.

Fine, Alexia typed. 12:30.

Alexia arrived at Le Coucou early. She ordered hot water with lemon.

Aubree swept in ten minutes late. She looked radiant.

"Alexia!" She kissed the air beside Alexia's cheek. "You look... cozy."

She sat down. "I ordered for us! The seafood tower. It's to die for."

The mere thought of food, let alone raw seafood, made Alexia's stomach clench. The smell of brine and shellfish from a nearby table was already making her feel lightheaded. "Aubree, I can't eat. I'm not feeling well."

Aubree waved her hand. "Oh, stop it. You're always on a diet. Live a little."

Then, Alexia saw him.

Jensen walked through the door.

He spotted them and walked over. He looked annoyed, but when he saw Aubree, he relaxed.

"Bree said you guys were making up," he said to Alexia, sitting down next to Aubree.

Alexia stared at Aubree. Making up?

Aubree grabbed his arm. "I just wanted to clear the air!"

The waiter brought the tower. Oysters. Clams. Sashimi. It smelled of the ocean and raw flesh.

Jensen picked up an oyster. "Eat, Alexia. It's rude to stare."

"I can't," Alexia said, her voice tight. "The doctor said-"

Jensen slammed his fork down. "God, you are impossible. Aubree is trying to be nice. Eat the damn oyster."

Aubree held one out to Alexia, a smirk playing on her lips. "Just one, Lexie. For peace?"

Alexia looked at the glistening oyster. She could feel a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, the pain in her side a sharp, insistent pulse. She looked at Jensen. He was looking at her with pure contempt.

Something inside her snapped. It wasn't loud. It was quiet. It was the sound of a thread finally breaking.

Alexia stood up.

She reached into her bag. She pulled out the copy of the divorce agreement she had printed at a shop near the clinic.

She slapped it onto the table, right on top of the crushed ice and the oysters.

"I'm not hungry," she said. Her voice was steady.

Jensen stared at the papers soaking up the melting ice.

"Since you're both here," Alexia said, looking from him to her. "You can celebrate. Aubree, make sure he signs it. You're good at making him do things."

The restaurant went silent.

Jensen's face turned purple. "Sit down," he hissed.

Alexia turned around.

She walked out. She didn't look back. She didn't hold her side. She walked tall.

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