*Isabella's POV*
Three days. Three fucking days in this hospital. The constant, rhythmic beeping of machines had become the soundtrack to my nightmares, but finally, it was over. I was being discharged. The feeling of freedom was so close I could almost taste it.
The door to my private room swung open with a cheerful little bounce. "Hey, bitch," Elly said, her voice a bright, welcome explosion of colour in the boring, white room. She was here to pick me up, per Jacob's arrangements.
"Seriously, Elly? I can't believe he made you come," I said, a familiar mix of frustration and embarrassment warming my cheeks. I struggled to sit up, my body still full of aches and the heavy, awkward weight of the plaster cast on my leg.
"I'm not his fucking charity case. You have a husband and a life in New York. I can take care of myself." The words came out sharper than I intended, a defence mechanism born of feeling so utterly helpless.
"Bitch, you don't only need a nurse, you need a friend too," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"But..." I countered, but she cut me off with a flick of her wrist.
"No buts. We'll have the time of our lives. Haven't you ever wished you had a sister?" she said, breaking into a smile so bright and genuine it was hard to stay mad.
"Actually..." I was saying, a sarcastic retort ready, but she cut me off again, her expression shifting to one of fake horror.
"Don't you dare answer that," she said, pouting dramatically. "I have the distinct impression you'll just hurt my feelings."
I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Wow, bubbly and dramatic as hell. You're the female version of Jacob," I said, a smile finally breaking through my crusty exterior.
"Don't you say that," she gasped, though her eyes were dancing with amusement. "He's just a drama llama, and I am pretty much a queen," she said with a confident, victorious smirk.
"Facts," I agreed, nodding slowly. For the first time in days, a flicker of something that felt almost like happiness sparked in my chest. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"I love this place, it's so you," Elly said as she helped me settle down on the couch in my apartment.
Yeah, about that..." I started, picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow. "Damien bought it and decorated it for me." I braced myself for the questioning.
"Damien? But..." she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. She plopped down on the couch opposite me, leaning forward, hungry for the gossip.
"I used to date him, okay?" I said, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. "I used to date them both." I admitted, the final confession tumbling out in a rush. "Wow, it feels so fucking good to get that off my chest," I added.. But Elly just stared at me, her mouth slightly open, her mind clearly working overtime to process the bomb I'd just dropped.
"You have got to explain yourself," Elly said, her voice a firm, no-nonsense command.
And so I told her everything. The words just poured out of me, a fucking tidal wave of confession. I told her all about our weird, polyandrous relationship, all about my fucked-up feelings.
How it felt so right, so safe with Damien, like coming home to a warm fire. But how Jacob kept me on my toes, challenged me, made me feel fucking alive in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. It felt incredibly good to let it all out, to lay every messy, complicated piece of our story on the table.
I knew Elly was on Jacob's payroll, a fact that should have made me cautious, but I trusted her. She was fucking awesome, and that's saying a hell of a lot coming from me, especially now. I was betrayed and almost killed by my so-called best friend. However, Elly's no-bullshit personality... it just made me trust her more. She didn't play fucking games.
"You left the most interesting parts out on purpose," Elly said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"What interesting parts?" I asked, faking innocence, though I knew exactly where this was heading.
"Oh, come on..." she said, waving a dismissive hand. "The sex. I've been sitting here for twenty fucking minutes listening to the emotional drama, which is great, but I need the good stuff. Tell me how it was. Did they... you know... touch each other..." She was asking, her wiggling eyebrows, when I finally cut her off.
"No! God, no! Elly!" I exclaimed, grabbing a throw pillow and hiding my burning face behind it and I could hear her chuckling.
"Okay, okay, calm down," she said, pulling the pillow away from me. "Spill."
"They were too busy focusing on me," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "It was... intense. They barely acknowledged each other's presence in bed. I don't know how the fuck they managed to ignore each other during sex but fight like fools in any other occasion." It was still a mystery to me, a weird paradox.
"Okay, now that we've cleared that up, tell me everything," she said, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Don't you dare leave out one tiny detail."
I giggled, a real, genuine laugh that made my ribs ache. "I'm not good at telling these kinds of stuff. You can go watch porn if you're that curious."
"God, I'm so jealous," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you, you lucky bitch." She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.
"What are you doing?" I asked, trying to look at her phone.
"Calling Liam to ask him if he has a long-lost brother or something," she said, putting the phone to her ear with a completely straight face.
"Hang up, you silly bitch!" I said, giggling and snatching the phone from her hand.
"Okay, okay, fine," she said, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her.
"I'll try to paint a picture, then. Be as detailed as you can be." I said as she gave me her full attention, beaming with unapologetic, excited anticipation.