Chapter 10
“Hyperemesis gravidarum.”
“Severe nausea,” Beau interpreted grimly. The lines of strain around his mouth were more pronounced and his expression was bleak. The past two weeks had been pure hell for them. A rift had been driven in their relationship because of his past.
Miriam kept showing up wherever he happened to be and had called several times on the phone, because she just wanted to talk.
He was conflicted, that much was evident. He knew he no longer loved her, but there was still something between them and that had prompted the constant argument between him and his wife.
Now she was sick. Everything she tasted came right back up. “Now what?”
“She is going to have to stay here at the clinic where we can monitor her closely.”
“For how long?”
Lucien shrugged helplessly. “Her blood pressure is elevated, and she has lost a lot of weight. It might be several weeks.”
They were in his office having the discussion. And Beau was not alone, Blake was with him, both men looking fit to be tied.
“I want to see her.”
“I understand–”
“No, you don’t!” Beau, who had been standing at the window, whirled around, his face harsh.
“You don’t. My wife’s life is hanging by a thread, and this is what I was afraid of.” He plowed his ten fingers through his already disheveled hair and looked like a man at the end of his rope. “We argued. That’s all we have been doing and this– this might be my fault. I need to sit with her.”
“Son–”
“Dad, please.”
“It’s part of the process,” Lucien spoke up. “We discussed that during the first trimester, this might happen. It’s an unfortunate side effect of carrying multiples.”
“I can’t stand to see her like that! One minute she was okay and the next–”He took a deep breath. “I need to sit with her.”
“What’s happening with her now?” Blake asked quietly.
“We have put her on a drip so that she can get some sustenance. We are monitoring her blood pressure every few minutes of course.” He glanced at Beau. “A team of doctors and nurses are assigned to her, and we assure you that we are doing our best by her.”
“We know you are.” Blake assured him. Turning to his son, he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go to her. I am sure your presence is what she needs right now.”
“Go right ahead,” Lucien urged.
Blake waited until he left the room before walking over to the cabinet to pour a cup of coffee. “Do you mind?”
“Help yourself.” Lucien waved a hand and sat back in his chair wearily. Beau had called him in the middle of the night when it became apparent that the nausea had gotten progressively worse, and he had urged the man to take her in immediately. That was five hours ago, and it seems like five days.
“He is angry.”
“Yes.” Lucien pushed away from the desk and walked over to the cabinet to pour himself a cup of the strong black coffee.
“He also blames himself.” Blake walked over to the window to stare out at the encroaching darkness of the early morning which was only relieved by the thin sliver of the moon and a few adventurous stars.
Snow from two days was still clinging tenaciously on the palm trees dotting the perimeter. February had come in with a vengeance, bringing with it snow, hail and sleet, making driving a treacherous adventure. “A woman from his past has been hanging around, causing strife between him and Georgie. I never liked her one bit.”
Lucien had seen the photos of him and the actress that had been snapped while they were having lunch at Rousseau's. He had found himself wondering what the hell had possessed Beau to put himself in that position while his wife was in such an untenable position.
“I suppose the photos triggered a massive argument.”
Blake nodded. “I cornered him with the evidence and asked him what the hell was going on.” He sipped the coffee. “He claimed that the woman just wanted to talk.” He shook his head. “I have a sneaky feeling that she engineered the entire thing.
They were in a booth where they could not be readily seen and yet somehow a reporter happened to be present to snap their pictures. That girl is trouble, but he doesn’t seem to be able to understand that.”
“Now he is blaming himself.”
“As he should.” Blake concluded grimly. “If there is nothing else, I am going to make my way home. I have several meetings, and I suspect my son will be here for most of the day.”
“I will keep you apprised.”
“Do that.” Snatching up his coat, he headed for the door and turned around just as he was about to open it. “Take good care of her, Lucien. She is like a daughter to me," he added gruffly.
*****
He approached the bed slowly as if expecting her to open her eyes and demand that he leaves the room. They were not on the very best terms and had been fighting a lot. She had accused him of reverting to his old ways and he had accused her of not trusting him.
“How can you think that I would cheat on you?”
“The photos do not lie and the fact that you had lunch with her and said nothing to me, makes it suspect.”
“She called while I was on my way out and said she wanted to talk. Just talk. I had no idea there was a damn paparazzi lurking in the vicinity.”
“And that’s a good thing, wasn’t it?” she blazed. “If it was not for these photos, I would not have known that my husband was sneaking behind my back.”
“I was in a public restaurant for God’s sake! You are behaving as if I was caught coming out of her apartment.”
“How do I know you have not been to her apartment?” she demanded. “All those late nights at the office—that you claim was at the office, you might have been with her.”
He had been so enraged that he had to leave the room or say something they would both regret. He had slammed out of the house and left her there. He had to get some air and cool down his temper. And the worst thing about it was that she had called him several times and he ignored the calls.
When he finally returned, it was to find her on the bathroom floor with vomit all over her. His heart had stopped when he saw her lying there. She had been throwing up on and off during the day, or so she told him. But it had gotten worse. She had been calling him and he had not responded because he was so angry.
He could not forgive himself.
Miriam had been calling him too, but he ignored her. Pulling up a chair, he took her limb hand in his and squeezed as if trying to infuse her with his warmth and energy.
She was thin. His wife had always been slender, but now she was emaciated, like a skeleton with skin draped over the bones. Her cheekbones were clearly defined, the bones jutting out. And her skin looked pale. Tubes were running from her mouth and her lashes made shadows on her cheeks.
He did not know what to say to her, so for a few minutes, he just sat there holding her hand. Their plans for the Valentine’s Day mask ball were shelved of course. It was being held on Saturday and last year when they attended, they were newlyweds. How much simpler things had been then, he thought bitterly.
Now everything was so damn complicated and out of control. Her sisters were finally told about the pregnancy, and they were upset that they had not been informed sooner.
“We have a right to know.” Marla had been the most furious because she somehow thought that she was Georgie’s mother. “How could she keep something like that from us?”
“I am sorry," he whispered achingly. “Hell, what am I apologizing for?” He was suddenly irrationally angry.
“For making you doubt me. How could you Georgie? Haven’t I proven how much I love you? How much you mean to me? It was just lunch, and right now I wish I could go back. All she wanted to do was talk and I could not say no–” he shook his head.
“I didn’t see the harm in accommodating her. I made it plain that I am totally committed to you. I am insulted that you thought I would cheat on you…” his voice trailed off. “But I get it. I had a reputation, and I was involved with her. I didn’t talk about her much because–” He cleared his throat.
“I didn’t know what to say. And frankly, ever since I met you and we kissed, everything flew out of my mind. I could think of no one else. You consumed me.” He kissed the back of her hand and placed it against his jaw, closing his eyes at the feel of her skin.
“I want you to wake up and be better. You know how I feel about this– this madness that you insisted on doing- Oh God, I am sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I’ll-I’ll just sit here and be quietly, darling. I am here. Do you hear me, darling?” His eyes were glittering with tears. “I am here.”
*****
“How much damage?” Beau rubbed a weary hand at the back of his neck as he paced the length of the waiting room. His wife was awake, but very weak and her blood pressure was still elevated. He had been at the clinic for the past three days and it was taking its toll.
The doctors as well as his dad had urged him to go home, but he refused. Georgie’s sisters had been by to visit but were only allowed to stay for five minutes because she tired so easily.
They had been shocked at her skeletal appearance and cornered Beau to demand answers.
“Are they doing everything they possibly can?” Sandra had asked stridently, getting his hackles up.
“What the hell do you think?”
All three women had realized the wisdom of leaving well enough alone.
“The drug is still having several damaging side effects and that is going to set us back some more. I shouldn’t be troubling you with this–”
“And if you hadn’t, I would have pinned your ass to the wall.” He walked over to the window to look out at the bleak view. It had snowed the night before and even now the sky was leaden, the clouds gray and leaden, indicating that they were in for more snow.
“I need a meeting with the head of the R&D department.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. Have him call me and tell him to rearrange his damn schedule to meet me at the hospital.”
“Yes, sir.”
Beau hung up and pressed his forehead against the cold pane of glass. He was tired and it seemed like he had not slept in days. He was spending all his time in the room with his wife, sleeping on a cot that was not very comfortable. But he was afraid to leave her. He had this feeling that if he did, she was going to just slip into oblivion.
Turning away from the window, he strode back into the room to see the nurse adjusting her tubes and checking her vitals.
“Your husband is here, Georgie,” The woman said cheerfully.
“Isn’t he always?” Her voice sounded thin and weak, and she looked as if she was on the verge of dying. All the fluids being pumped into her, and she still looked like a scarecrow.
“You should try and persuade him to go home and take a nap and get some home cooked meal inside him.” The nurse wrote something on her chart before stepping aside.
“He is as stubborn as a mule.”
“That’s right.” Waiting until the woman had left, he pulled up a chair and forced a smile as he took her hand.
“I must look like death warmed over.” Her dark brown eyes studied his face intently.
“You just need to slap on some makeup, and you will be as good as new.”
She did not laugh at the weak attempt at teasing, and he knew she was seeing right through him.
“You should go home and get some rest. You look like hell.”
“Why, thank you darling.”
“I mean it Beau.” She squeezed his hand weakly. “Lucien and the others say I am getting better every day. My blood pressure is going down and I put on several ounces over the past few days.”
He wanted to tell her that he did not see it but could not find the words.
“You are just trying to get rid of me.”
“You have been here for days.”
“And this is where I am supposed to be.”
“You have a company to run.”
“My dad is there, and I am doing my part. Stop trying to manage me.”
“Someone has to.”
“You are in no position to do so," he pointed out. “I am staying.”
“Why? Because you feel guilty?”
His eyes flared and he had to make a supreme effort to tamp down his anger.
“What do I have to feel guilty about?”
“Her. Has she called?”
“Georgie–”
“I bet she is just waiting to see if I kick the bucket to step right in so that she can offer her body for comfort.”
“Dammit Georgie!” he bit out. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
She closed her eyes wearily and he was alarmed to see tears trickling down her cheeks.
“Oh God! I am so sorry.”
“No.” Opening her eyes, she sniffed and smiled slightly. “Hormones. I intend to use that as an excuse until I cannot do so anymore.”
She squeezed his hand again. “I just hate this bed and hate the fact that I feel and look like crap. What have I done? You warned me that there would be consequences, and I didn’t listen. Now I am putting us both through hell and I am so sorry.”
“Don’t do that," he ordered huskily. Lifting their joined hands, he kissed the back of hers, alarmed at how the veins were sticking out. The doctors had assured him that neither she nor the babies were in any danger, but looking at her, he could not tell.
She did not look like his Georgie. She looked feeble and weak, quite unlike herself. He wanted to suggest they terminate the pregnancy, but did not dare voice it. He was trying hard not to do anything to upset her.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” she was saying. “I had to have my own way and look at the result.”
“You are going to be fine.”
“Will I be?” she asked wearily, her eyes closing. “I want to stay awake and talk to you, but I am falling asleep. These damn drugs.” Her voice was fading, and he knew in a few seconds she would be fast asleep.
“In sleep you will get healing," he whispered and watched as she succumbed to the drugs coursing through her veins.
He waited, still holding her hand as he listened to her, even breathing. Bending forward, he kissed one smooth cheek, his touch lingering. He missed her, missed holding her in his arms and feeling her curves against his. He longed for the touch of her hands on his body and the excitement that would build up whenever they were in bed together.
Placing her hand carefully on top of the sheets, he slid the chair backward and rose, trying to quiet his rampaging desire. The doctors and everyone else were right. He needed to get out and go home. Take a shower, a freaking cold one, and eat something.
Taking one last look at her, he left the room and closed the door behind him.
*****
“You have to stop calling me.” Beau dragged himself up against the pillows and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
He had met with the head of the R&D department to hash out their next strategy and from there he had checked on his wife again to make certain she was still breathing and then told the medical personnel that he would be going home for a few hours.
He ate the meal Mrs. Greene had prepared and went upstairs to take a shower and stumbled into bed. He had been sleeping for five hours when his phone rang. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw the time and felt his heart lodging inside his throat as he wondered if it was from the hospital.
“I am checking on you.” Her voice was soft and contrite. “Nothing is wrong with that.”
“We cannot be doing this.” Reaching over, he switched on the lamp and dragged his fingers through his hair.
“Darling, I thought we agreed that we would start over as friends.”
“I have to concentrate on my wife, she is not doing so well.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
He laughed softly. “Like what? Coming over and holding my hands?”
“That’s not all I want to hold. I don’t like to know that you are hurting.”
“Enough!”
“I am sorry. No, I am not. Darling, I am still in love with you, and I know you feel something for me too.”
Leaning his head back, he dragged air into his lungs. “It’s too late.”
“I cannot believe it is. I think about you every day Beau.” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “I recall the times we spent together, the way you held me, how you made me laugh. You are the best lover I ever had and each time I remember–”
“Enough," he repeated grimly. “I mean it, Miriam. We are over. What we had is finished. I am in love with my wife and even though we are going through our own brand of hell, it will always be her. Now, I am going to hang up and I would appreciate you not calling me at this time of night, is that clear?”
There was a ponderous silence for a few seconds before she answered. “All right Beau," she told him quietly. “I will adhere to your request for now. But hear this– I am not giving up. I know you still feel something for me. I made a mistake and want to correct it. Good night.”
Flinging the phone away from him, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He should tell her to go to hell, but frankly, Miriam was the last person on his mind right now.
Picking up the phone, he dialed his wife’s room and felt a jolt of surprise when she answered.
“You should be sleeping.” Her voice sounded stronger, and he felt weak with relief.
“I could say the same about you. Why are you up?”
“Are you kidding? I have been sleeping for hours and they just fed me. Guess what?”
“What?” he asked indulgently.
“My blood pressure is down.”
“Really? Hmm. I feel so much better Beau. The babies' heartbeats are stronger, and I really do not feel like crap anymore.”
Reaching over, he dragged her pillows against his chest and inhaled her scent. “Does that mean I was the one hiking up your blood pressure? The one night I decided to come home, you are feeling better. That means my presence there is not needed.”
“It seems that way. How are you, darling?”
“Missing you," he told her huskily. “I am making love to your pillows.”
“Eew, that’s disgusting.”
He laughed softly.
“It’s no substitute for the real thing, but it will have to do. Want me to swing by?”
“It’s after two!”
“So?”
“So, I think you should get some more sleep and go to the office in the morning," she said firmly. “I do not expect to see you until the afternoon.”
“I will be there in the morning.”
“Beau–”
“Unless you have another man coming to visit you and want me to avoid seeing him.”
“That’s the reason. Swing by at two. He did call and say he would come by in the morning.”
“Tell him he’s shit out of luck. I am the only man in your life and no one else. Baby, I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too. Oh darling, I cannot wait to come home and sleep next to you in our bed.”
“I want you to get better.”
“I will," she promised. “How about some phone sex?”
He groaned and had her laughing.