Never His First Choice

"Ms. Colombo, the burns on your back are serious. They need treatment right now."

The firefighter stopped me and took me to the medic, who began treating my burns.

Outside the church, the mourners were in chaos. Through the commotion, I heard Vincent calling my name.

But I pretended not to hear him and quietly endured the pain tearing through my back.

My phone kept ringing. I didn't recognize the number.

The medic indicated that I could move my arm, but I still didn't answer the call. "Do you want me to pick it up for you?" the medic asked.

I shook my head. "No. I don't know the number."

I quietly slipped off the diamond ring Vincent had given me when he proposed.

The phone rang until it cut off on its own. Then I saw Bianca coming toward me.

There wasn't a trace of smoke on her face. Her clothes weren't even dirty. My scarf was still in her hand.

"Louisa, Vincent has been looking everywhere for you. Why aren't you picking up?"

She stood beside me and reached out to touch my exposed back.

I moved away. The medic warned, "Don't move. Burns need treatment right away, or they can get infected. I can't tell yet if it'll scar."

Bianca quickly pulled her hand back. "I'm sorry," she said, flustered. "I only wanted to see how bad it was."

Vincent finally found me. He rushed over, yanking my arm. "Are you trying to scare me to death? You didn't answer my calls. I almost lost my mind!"

I hissed as his rough grip tugged at the wound on my back. I gritted my teeth against the pain, but my voice still shook. "I'm getting my wound treated. You're with Bianca. What do you want with me?"

He frowned, displeased. "I was only worried her cold would get worse. As soon as she was safe, I came looking for you. You're angry about that too?"

Bianca's eyes turned red at once. "This is my fault, Louisa. Here, take your scarf back."

She held it out to me, but I slapped it out of her hand. "It's dirty. I don't want it."

Vincent immediately pushed Bianca behind him, his frown deepening. "Louisa, what kind of attitude is that? Can't you see she's sick? It's just a scarf. Why make such a big deal out of it?"

The medic taped a thick pad of gauze over my back and said gravely, "Ms. Colombo has severe pneumonia, and she's inhaled a lot of smoke. She needs a full examination at a hospital. The burns on her back are deep, too. I can only dress them for now."

Only then did Vincent look at my bare back, and his face changed. "How did you get hurt this badly? Your dress is burned right through."

I answered quietly, "I didn't get out in time."

He carefully reached toward the wound, but stopped, afraid of hurting me. He blew softly on it instead. "It hurts, doesn't it? Hold my hand. It'll help."

That was when I noticed the bandage around his wrist and the scratches on the back of his hand. He was hurt too, yet still worried about me.

My disappointment faded, and hope flickered inside me. Maybe he really had only been afraid Bianca's cold would get worse. Bianca was an outsider. We were about to be husband and wife, a family. We were supposed to face good times and bad together. The thought softened me.

Vincent opened his arms to lift me, but stopped when he remembered my burns. Instead, he turned around to carry me on his back. "The parking lot is a ways off. I'll carry you. We're going to the hospital."

But just then, Bianca leaned out from behind him, gave me an apologetic look, and turned to Vincent. "The housekeeper just called. Your mother heard about the church fire and was so worried that she fainted. She's awake now, but she's still upset. She wants me to come home with you. She won't calm down until she sees that we're all right."

Vincent didn't hesitate. He turned to me. "Sweetheart, the ambulance can take you. I have to go home. Mom isn't well. I can't leave her worried."

I caught his sleeve. "You just said you'd stay with me."

He kissed the back of my hand. "But my mom needs me too."

Bianca chimed in. "Mrs. Winston is really upset. You understand, don't you?"

I said nothing else. The medics brought a stretcher, and Vincent helped lift me into the ambulance. He kissed me lightly on the lips, then left with Bianca. His warmth was still on my lips, yet all I felt was cold.

A crowd of reporters had already gathered outside the church. Some shoved their microphones toward Vincent. One reporter asked, "Mr. Winston, after such a large fire, is everyone who came to the funeral safe? This is Don Michael Colombo's funeral, after all. Will the service be moved elsewhere, or will he be buried right away?"

Before Vincent could answer, Bianca swayed, and he caught her by the shoulders.

The reporters noticed how intimate they looked and turned their cameras on her. One asked, "Is this the heir to the Colombo family? You keep such a low profile that the public hardly knows you."

Vincent kept Bianca tucked against him and didn't correct them. He simply let the cameras flash.