Chapter Forty-Three
“I f this woman doesn’t die in the next few hours, I swear to God, I will.” I leaned forward to coat my mother’s lips with another layer of Lypsyl.
She was going through them like candy, and every time I applied it to her broken, parched lips, her mouth moved as if she was trying to eat it.
I swiveled toward Dr. Fields, narrowing my eyes. “Are you sure she’s not trying to communicate with us?”
He shook his head. “It’s a reflex. We’re monitoring her daily. No neuroactivity is showing on the scans.”
“It’s been eighteen days.” I capped the Lypsyl and dumped it on the nightstand, pacing across the room. “Something’s wrong. You need to look into her condition.”
“You already received second and third opinions.”
I did. Each one of them supported his prognosis.
But this state, of watching my mother suspended above the chasm between life and death, her fingers slipping one millimeter at a time, was pure torture.
My entire existence shrank to this room, to this hospital bed, to the empty, withering shell of a once vital woman who danced like no one was looking, read poetry, taught me how to bake cookies, braided my hair, and shaped me to be who I was today.
“Maybe we should reinsert the G-tube,” I said.
My college friends Alix and Sadie both stood up from the couch, about to argue with me, but Fields beat them to it.
“How about I finish doing my morning rounds, and we can discuss it?” His voice was sympathetic.
I nodded distractedly. He left.
“Gia, she’s on death’s door.” Alix put her hand on my shoulder.
“Alix, then she’s got the wrong bloody address,” I sighed.
Tate ambled into the room. My hollow, depleted heart picked up speed at the sight of him. My spine uncurled. He came to visit me every day, and I still arrived home every night to sleep, but we barely spent time together.
He stalked over to me, ignoring my two friends. “Hanging in there?”
“For the most part.”
“I brought someone here.” He stepped away from me. His hand reached into his pocket, and I knew he was tapping his numbers. I studied him in confusion.
“Oh.” I forced out a smile. “You move fast. Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Lina McCain,” he provided just as the door opened again and an impeccably dressed, middle-aged woman swanned into the room.
“Okay…”
“She’s a medium and has come to help find out what the holdup is with your mother.” Tate tried to keep a straight face, but I knew better than anyone that this heathen did not believe in the afterlife, souls, or anything else that wasn’t firmly backed by science.
“Gia.” The woman reached over to kiss both my cheeks and give me a hug. “Your husband is very concerned about you. He brought me over on his private plane. I had to cancel a big, big event to be here. I can never turn my back on a family emergency.”
I continued staring at her, too perplexed to speak.
“I’m sure you must be going through hell.
Well, let me tell you a little bit about what I do.
” Lina proceeded to explain that she specialized in communicating with people in comas who were on life support or had severe brain damage.
She said she connected with the spirit guides of her clients—me or the person in a coma—to better understand what caused them to get stuck in limbo.
“Sometimes people are trapped in the in-between because things that are left unfinished are bothering them. I once communicated with a woman on life support who told me her astral cord was still attached to her body, but she hadn’t yet decided whether she wanted to die or not.
Her father pushed her off the balcony and pretended to be concerned for her, staying in the room with her day and night.
I was able to alert her distraught son who’d hired me, and the father was arrested.
Shortly after he was sentenced to life in prison, she passed away. ”
I shot Mum another look. I was skeptical about spirit guides, but I was also at a point where I’d try anything.
“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Tate interjected. “Just say the word, and I’ll send Ms. McCain packing.”
“You should do it,” Alix squeaked from the couch.
“Yeah,” Sadie added, biting down on her lip. “Telma was very mystical. She believed in spirits.”
I pressed my lips together, nodding. “Let’s do it.”
“I’ll get to work right away.” Lina approached Mum.
I watched helplessly, my breath bunched together like a ball deep inside my throat.
Tate clasped my shoulders. “You need a break. Let’s go to the cafeteria. Alix and Sadie can monitor Lina.”
“We’ll be here the entire time,” Alix reassured me. “Go.”
“Hold on a minute. How did you know their names?” I frowned at Tate.
Alix winced, exchanging glances with a deeply red Sadie.
“Tell her,” Sadie whispered.
“No, you tell her.” Sadie elbowed Alix.
I swear, if one of them had sex with Tate before we hooked up, I would have to attend more than one funeral this week.
“Well?” I narrowed my eyes between the three of them.
“So you know our ‘girls only’ weekend we do once a year?” Alix scratched her neck.
My face relaxed. “Yes. Shall we do Cancun this year? Or perhaps Key West? I will need some relaxa—”
“And remember how Alix always pays for it because her dad is loaded?” Sadie cleared her throat.
“Yes?”
“My dad is, in fact, loaded,” Alix rushed to say. “But he never paid for our vacations. Tate did.”
I swung my gaze to my husband. He paid for my holidays before we were even together. Why?
He erected a warning finger between us, scowling. “You were wound too tight. Always complaining about how overwhelmed you were. Sending you off once a year was a pleasure. I didn’t have to suffer through your huffing and three hundred Post-it notes.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.” I patted his shoulder, a teasing smile on my face. “I would secretly love me too if I were you.”
He ushered me out of the room and left Lina and Mum with my friends. Our walk to the cafeteria was silent. I bought a cup of coffee and a sandwich I had no intention of eating. The scent of impending death made food unappealing altogether. We settled in the corner of the busy room.
“How are things going with Tiernan?” I dropped my voice to a whisper, since the place was swarming with families and patients.
Tate immediately started tapping his side. His pupils moved in a way that let me know he was solving equations in his head to calm himself down. “He blew up my Ferrari the other day.”
I gasped. “Jesus.”
“I know. Getting another one customized is going to take months . He couldn’t blow up the standard Rover? Prick .”
I gave him a chiding look.
“Also.” He cracked his neck and knuckles. “I had a bit of an episode and might’ve scribbled all over the bedroom a few days ago.”
I hadn’t even noticed.
“Negotiate peace with him,” I demanded.
“Fine.”
“Really?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Really.” He sat back. “I evened the score after the Ferrari incident, so as far as I’m concerned, we’re squared away.”
“What did you do now?” Dread filled my lungs like a toxic fume.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Spill it.” I jerked my chair forward, the sound of its legs scratching the floor startling everyone in the room. All heads spun to us. “You dragged me into your mess, Tate. The least you can do is keep me in the loop.”
“Burned down his underground fight club.”
“Enzo mentioned it was huge. A UFC feeder.” I frowned. “It must be an important source of income for them.”
“Their main financial pipeline, yeah.”
“Jesus, Tate,” I whisper-shouted, drawing more curious glances. “I get it. Conflict is your favorite hobby. But I haven’t asked for any of this. Tiernan is going to do terrible things to me if he catches me.”
A spark of wrath flickered in his eyes. “ If is the operative word. I won’t let it happen.”
“Yeah. Me either. Because I’ll divorce you.” I stood up abruptly.
He followed suit. “Don’t be a hypocrite. You and I are cut from the same cloth, little Apricity.” He caught my wrist like a thief in the dark, his fingers wrapping around my own. “The only difference is that I don’t want to change to appease the world. You do.”
“I’m not like you.” I tugged my hand away, every nerve ending in my body on fire.
“Yes, I don’t care when bad people die, but I’d never put you at risk to solve my own problems. If you want this to work, you need to break bread with the Callaghans.
I will leave you,” I warned. “I love you, Tate. But I love me too.”
Tate closed his eyes, releasing a ragged breath.
He gripped the edges of the table between us, his knuckles bone-white.
A storm was brewing inside him. Between the man he was—cruel, careless, vindictive, bloodthirsty—and the man he needed to be to have me.
I waited for a full minute, maybe two, before my husband spoke again.
“Very well. For you, Apricity, I’ll stop this war.”