14. Mira
MIRA
C lay had handled a lot as I reflected on everything, reading some of the cards that came with the flowers that had to be sent home since he was still in the ICU.
“The management team in Sonoma,” I whispered, setting a card down.
“Things look so great up there right now. Clay and I were there two weeks ago. Everything is so green. You should definitely pay a visit after you get out of here.”
After he got out of here. I had to believe the time would come.
It was the only thing I could cling to. He would get out of this.
He had to. “I finally took a shower,” I told him, wincing over my shoulder.
The only response was the rhythmic beeping from his heart monitor, with the readout on the screen over his head telling me his pulse was steady.
“They were nice enough to let me use the shower here, in your bathroom. It’s not like you’re using it right now, right? ”
Even if it had taken Clay a lot of bullying to get me in there, I felt childish, especially since washing up made me feel a lot more human. The tears I’d shed while the water hid the sound were helpful too. I had been holding back for fear of Papa waking up and finding me in an emotional state.
“I have to admit, Clay’s been great.” I held a finger to my lips. “But don’t tell him that. He’ll get an even bigger head than he already has. I guess I should thank you. If it wasn’t for you setting things up, I wouldn’t have him helping me with all this stuff.”
He had gone home to shower and dress, but I knew what he hadn’t wanted to share.
There were work things that needed to be taken care of, naturally.
It had been five days since Papa’s heart attack, and the world could only pause for so long.
People could still feel terribly sympathetic, but questions needed answering, decisions needed to be made.
There was also a gala in the works, something his press manager had come up with. I could see the reasoning behind a splashy welcome to the man helming our combined brands. Still, it felt kind of twisted thinking about anything like that while Papa lay in a hospital bed.
“I already told Clay I’m not going to any party if you’re not awake yet.
Some things I can compromise on, but that’s not one of them.
” I stood at the foot of his bed, arms folded.
“So you had better wake up, or else a lot of people are going to ask why Clay’s wife couldn’t show up and then why Clay would throw a party while you’re so sick. ”
It was an ugly thought. One I didn’t like having. As far as I knew, the gala was weeks away and barely half planned. I would worry about it when the time came.
One of the nurses knocked on the open door. “Excuse me, but there’s someone here who wants to see you. I’m not sure how he got up here, but we wouldn’t let him back without your say-so.”
Immediately, the hair on the back of my neck rose. With a glance toward my unconscious father, I asked, “Who is it?”
“Matteo Lamberti?”
For fuck’s sake. I had told him what happened to Papa, but that was as much as we’d communicated since I walked into the hospital. He wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of priorities at a time like this. I had to be quick. I didn’t want to leave Papa.
“Where is he?” I pulled the scrunchie from my hair and shook out the bun I had wound after showering. The waves had air-dried, and I was not wearing a drop of makeup. I had hardly slept for the better part of a week.
In other words, I was not exactly in mental or physical shape to accept visitors, but what was I supposed to do?
Kick him out? What a shame it was so tempting as I followed the nurse to a waiting room down the hall, which was empty except for the blond man who stood at the window with his hands behind his back.
I almost forgot how handsome he was. The regal bearing that reflected his breeding.
Four generations of Lamberti men had practically cornered the market on California wines well before Matteo came into the world.
Unlike me, he was happy enough floating along, enjoying the fruits of their labor.
Strangely enough, I’d never cared much about that until now. It didn’t bother me. Why did it now?
He turned on his heel and almost ran across the room with his arms outstretched. “Thank God. I was afraid I’d have to storm the place.”
He stiffened when I did and frowned when I backed up a step. “Please,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody had noticed while passing by. “They’ve seen me with my husband for the past five days.”
“Oh, please.” His arms dropped to his sides, and his shoulders sank. “I can’t even hug you now? Your dad is in such bad shape, and I can’t hug you and say I’m sorry?”
“Nobody is stopping you from saying you’re sorry. We don’t need rumors flying around. You know things are already tough enough right now.” And I sincerely regretted not asking the nurse to send him away when I had the chance. He just didn’t get it.
“How are you? God, you look…” His dark eyes narrowed, and his full mouth twisted in something close to dismay. “You look like you’re having a really difficult time with this.”
“Because I am.” I didn’t have it in me to smile, even if it meant reassuring him. I was empty.
“I only want to be here for you.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. “What can I do?”
“Try to understand, please. That’s all I ask.
We have to, you know…” I didn’t need this.
I had more than enough weighing on me. More than enough regret too.
I regretted every moment I spent angry with Papa, even if he did deserve it at the time.
But it was such a waste. What if I wasted some of our last moments together being angry with him?
“Keep up appearances?” he asked. His eyes narrowed, his hands tightening. “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what your husband wants to do. You know what he’s going around telling people, right?”
“I can’t do this right now.” Taking his wrists, I pulled his hands from my shoulders. “If that’s all you came here for, you need to go.”
“You know they’re painting him as some hero in the press? Yeah, that husband of yours.” It was amazing how quickly he switched gears, how easy it was for him to slide into anger and resentment. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. “Check it out.”
“I’m not interested.” Boy, was that a lie, but I’d be damned if I played along with his game.
“Fine. I’ll read aloud to you.” He cleared his throat, smirking.
“The purchase of the Rinaldi brand could not have come at a better time for either of the parties involved. Not only is the hospitality mogul doubling the size of his holdings, but he is now holding down the fort for his new wife and father-in-law.”
I wasn’t sure what annoyed me more. The poor writing or how flat and one-dimensional it made us seem.
Rather than choose, I turned my irritation toward the man in front of me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I whispered, backing away from him.
I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “You’re going to come here and throw that in my face when I’m waiting for my father to regain consciousness? What is wrong with you?”
His face fell so dramatically I would’ve laughed if the whole situation wasn’t so damn sad. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
With my arms folded, I said, “Nobody asked you to deliver this message. You’re here to stir shit up, and you need to go now.”
How could he look so surprised? “I’m only trying to be here for you,” he whined.
“If I need you to be here for me, I will ask you. Now go, please.”
It was too late. The elevator doors opened with a ping and out stepped Clay. My heart dropped while Matteo snickered like he was hoping this would happen. It was as if he hadn’t come here to see me at all.
Clay stopped dead in his tracks. His face went blank for a split second before a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. “You are truly the most transparent asshole I ever set eyes on.” Those eyes were glued to Matteo, who folded his arms and smirked right back.
“Then you haven’t looked in the mirror lately,” he retorted. “Since I was thinking the same thing about you.”
Clay crossed the waiting area in four long strides, coming to a stop inches from Matteo while I quaked inside. “I already warned you about what would happen if you didn’t stop harassing my wife.”
“Your wife… ” Matteo scoffed, “… like we don’t all know what this is about.”
Clay’s blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch yourself. The only thing keeping me from kicking the shit out of you is the lifesaving equipment down the hall. Leave before anybody has to use it on you.”
“Just go,” I muttered to Matteo. “Now.” He did as I told him, glared at Clay one more time then marched to the elevator. Clay watched his every move, only loosening his fists when Matteo was in the elevator and the doors were closed.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to have anything to do with him anymore, not after that. Come to think of it, what had I seen in him in the first place? Sure, I knew it was wrong to make decisions in an agitated state, and my state had never been more agitated.
Maybe it was agitation that helped me see clearly.
How long would I have dated Matteo if it hadn’t been for Clay showing up in my life?
Weeks, maybe even months. But eventually, he would have worn thin.
His lack of ambition, his lack of focus, his complacency.
He was more than satisfied living the good life without creating anything of his own.
Eventually, I would have gotten tired of that.
The fact was, I had no idea whether I was keeping him around because I wanted him or because I wanted a symbol of control over my life.
None of that cooled the anger blazing in my chest. “How many of those little snippets in the press are you directly responsible for?” I asked.
Slowly, I turned my head, gratified at the surprise on his face.
He was dressed in a blue shirt and dark gray slacks and looked like a million bucks.
He could manage it. His father wasn’t unconscious in a bed with tubes and wires everywhere.
“What? What are you talking about?” he asked. “What snippets?”
“The cute little lines about you holding everything together. Did you plant them? Because they reek of you,” I whispered.
“You would interpret it that way, wouldn’t you?
” He threw his hands into the air, lacing his fingers on top of his head.
“What would you prefer? I postponed the interviews scheduled for this week in favor of being here with you, so Peter found a way to keep us in the public eye until I find time to sit down with the reporters.”
Was that true? Did I even care anymore? “Make sure when you do, you remind them what a fucking hero you are. None of us would be able to handle any of this without you.”
I couldn’t breathe.
I was hyperventilating.
I was falling apart.
“That is enough.” Suddenly, he was in front of me, looming over me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his chest. “You are ready to drop. I don’t care what you think about it. I’m taking you home. You’re going to bed.”
“No!” I protested, fighting to get free. “You are not going to tell me what to do.”
“It’s what you need to do,” he insisted, his mouth close to my ear. “And you’re going to do it. Now stop acting like a child, dammit.”
And I was. That was the worst part. The tiny part of my brain still capable of thinking rationally knew I was being childish. But if there was ever a time to lose it, this was it. Who could blame me?
“Let's go. The staff will keep us posted.” I didn’t have it in me to fight anymore, allowing Clay to steer me to the room so I could get my purse and say goodnight to Papa before we left. It would be nice to sleep in bed, wouldn’t it?
Everything went by me in a blur. The only thing I could hold onto was the man walking beside me, holding me close to him. Helping me into the car, letting me lean against him while the driver took us home. My eyelids were so heavy. I had to close them.
It couldn’t have been more than a second or two, but when I opened them, we were in front of the house. I felt like I was moving through a dream as we went inside, where Clay finally had to carry me up the stairs when I swayed on my feet. It was a good idea to come home, after all.
As it turned out, Clay answered the question I never had the chance to ask by leading me to his bedroom. Had I really been so concerned with that? It felt like a lifetime ago that we were on the jet, preparing to land after our trip.
It was such a relief to strip out of my clothes and slide between the sheets. They felt so soft and smelled so sweet, even more so after five days of smelling like the hospital.
“Wait.” I rolled onto my side, watching Clay as he started from the room once I was tucked in. “Will you stay with me? Please? At least until I fall asleep?”
He frowned momentarily but joined me, sliding out of his shoes and stripping off his shirt and pants. “I don’t think that will take very long, but all right.”
So long as I didn’t have to fall asleep by myself.
So long as I wasn’t alone.
I could fall asleep feeling small and weak because I knew I had his strong arms around me.