Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Killian
I’ve been gone longer than I intended to be, and the first thing I want to do is tie Lily up and bury myself deep inside her. When I enter my home, I remove my jacket, tossing it anywhere out of my way.
“Mo chuisle!” I shout.
My housekeeper rushes over. “Sir Killian. Miss Liliana has been in her room for the last two days. She says she’s fine, but she sounds like she’s in pain.”
I sprint up the stairs two steps at a time and bust through my bedroom door.
“What happened?” I question as I enter.
“Nothing.” Lily buries her face into the pillow as she clutches the sheets and pulls her legs up to her body.
“Did someone hurt you?” I feel a rage surging through my veins at the thought of anyone harming her physically or emotionally.
“Period cramps. Just go, please.”
“You’re shaking, Lily.” My knees hit the ground at the edge of the bed as I scan her body. “Let me massage you.”
“That won’t help,” she whimpers. “Just let me lie here. It will pass soon.” She seems to force the words out of her mouth.
“Well, there’s something I can do to help. Tell me.”
“Just rub my back till I fall asleep?”
Climbing into bed with her, our bodies touching as I lie on my side and rub my hand in small circles on her lower back. It doesn’t seem like it’s helping, but I keep at it until she falls asleep. Pulling out my phone, I google the possibilities of what this could be, and I only got more confused.
With annoyance, I get out of bed to make a call I don’t want to make.
“Hospital, how can I help you?” A sweet voice picks up the phone.
“Darling, is Stasia Andretti working there? I can’t reach her, and this is urgent.” I look over my shoulder before I leave the room. “Tell her it’s about Lily.”
I am barely on hold for five minutes before a panicked Stasia answers. “Lily? Are you okay? I’ll come get you right now.”
“Don’t hold your breath. What’s wrong with her?” I spit out the question, disregarding the niceties. “She’s shaking in pain from a period. You’d think she’s being tortured. I’ve been around enough women to know that’s not normal.”
“Killian?” Stasia grunts. “I could rip your eyeballs out.”
“But you won’t because I have your sister. Are you going to let your ego get in the way of helping?”
“She’s having a flare-up.”
“A flare-up? Of what?” I can hear people and machines in the background.
“Endometriosis.”
“What the fuck is that?” My patience is running thin.
“It’s when a woman’s body produces tissue outside the uterus. It causes severe pain. Has she been fatigued at all?”
“Well, I guess. I figured it was…” I stop talking.
“The sex?” Stasia completes the sentence with a flat tone.
Rerouting the conversation, I ask, “How long does a flare-up last?”
“Days. Sometimes she’s in bed for a full week.”
“Jesus,” I spit out. “There’s no cure for this?”
“No. Endometriosis doesn’t just go away. There’s no cure.”
“She’s just supposed to manage the pain?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” There’s a pause. “Look, I’ll get her doctor to send a script in for some meds that help manage it.”
“Good.” I hang up.
By now, I’ve searched endometriosis and have read up on it. I look up at a sleeping Lily as I enter back into the bedroom. Her body still seems tense even though she’s drifted into slumber.
I sit on a chair facing the bed and watch her sleep as though it will help. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s ashamed of this, but why? I sit in that chair all night just watching her. The fact that I can’t fix this bothers me.
I’d rip my own heart out if it meant it would cure this awful ailment. That thought alone shakes me to my core.
The sun hits the shades, aching to get into the dark room.
My eyes never left Lily. Her breathing begins to change and she shifts her body—she’s waking up.
I remain in the chair, just watching. She stiffly rolls onto her back and opens her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she places her hand on her pelvis.
Lily breathes through the pain. I’ve seen it plenty of times while torturing someone as they endure the pain by controlling their breathing.
She wipes away tears streaming down her face. When she turns her head, she makes eye contact with me. She struggles to sit up in bed but manages to do so. She sits with her back up against the headboard and knees to her chest, her face pale.
“You look like shit,” she says.
“You should take a look at yourself.”
Her eyes dart to the ashtray of cigarettes. “Spent the night giving me second-hand smoke?”
“A little smoke in your lungs I’m sure won’t compare to what you’re already dealing with.”
“And what am I dealing with?” she challenges, as though she’s forgotten I put her into bed last night.
“You tell me.”
She looks away. “I’m fine. Just back pain. Herniated disc.”
I watch her pretend she isn’t in pain while she places her feet on the ground, barely able to get out of bed.
“Herniated disc,” I repeat. “Interesting.”
She shoots me a look. “I’m tired and not in the mood to deal with your attitude.”
“A bath is waiting for you.” I nod toward the bathroom. “It was scalding hot but should be to your liking now.”
She gives a look of gratitude but doesn’t say a word, just makes her way to the bathroom.
I stay behind for a moment before reaching the door of the bathroom.
The tub is full of rose petals and stems of lavender at the corners of the tub.
Lily’s back is toward me, and she’s struggling to get out of the dress that she didn’t change out of before crawling into bed last night.
I walk over to her and help. She whimpers in pain but still pretends nothing is wrong.
I pull the strings of her dress, undoing it.
Unzipping the zipper, I catch her staring at me in the mirror. We remain frozen, eyes locked together.
After pouring a few hours into understanding how to cope with endometriosis pain, I read about laparoscopy—a type of surgery that a woman can have to remove the scar tissue.
Worst-case scenarios involve removal of the uterus or of the ovaries.
As I stand here, my gaze falls onto her torso as she pulls her dress down, and I notice marks that I assumed were beauty spots.
Now I realize they are actually scars. I find my arm wrapping around her waist, my thumb tenderly touching one of the faint marks.
Lily pulls away from me, pushing my arm as she makes her way to the tub. My hand catches hers, and I hold onto it as she steps into the water and settles in. She lies back against the tub, letting the water swallow her body. The heat from the water rises.
“I’m not going to drown,” she comments as she watches me lean against the counter with my arms crossed.
“Good, because I can’t swim.” I try to lighten the mood, but her smirk fades quickly.
“I’m hungry.”
“Breakfast will be ready soon.” She doesn’t know I already ordered that the house only contains and serves food that will lower inflammation.
I pull a bottle from my pocket and open it, shaking a pill into the palm of my hand.
I had one of my men pick it up as soon as the pharmacy opened.
Lily watches me fill an empty cup at the faucet with water and kneel at the tub to hand them over to her.
She gulps, at first resisting, but taking them as though she knows better.
I sit on the closed toilet seat, watching her in silence. Lily ignores me.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” I blurt out.
“Who said I’m ashamed of anything?” she shoots back, despite the look of truth hidden beneath her exterior.
“Then why not talk about your endometriosis?”
I have her trapped. She can’t walk away from this conversation.
“What does it matter to you?” she challenges.
“It sounded like you were dying,” I reply. The rawness of my words hangs in the air.
Silence.
She clears her throat. “I was diagnosed with stage three endo. I had a laparoscopy twice. Chances of kids are slim to none. There’s IVF, but I’m not sure I can handle it not taking.”
“It doesn’t make you less of a woman because of it.”
She stares at me, fighting back the tears smothering her eyes. “Like hell it doesn’t. I can’t have children, Killian. Everything I know is built around what makes a woman worthy in the Costello Family.”
“That’s why you didn’t go after Alessio,” I conclude.
“What worth do I have if I can’t produce an heir?” she whispers, voice trembling with pain.
“To hell with an heir,” I spit out. “A woman’s value isn’t tied to that.”
Tears now spill down her face. “The greatest part of being a woman is having the ability to have children.”
“Adoption.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She cuts me off, her walls up as defense.
A gnawing sensation twists in my chest. Did she come to me out of desperation? Had she chosen me because Alessio wouldn’t want a woman who can’t bear him an heir?
The thought stings, leaving me questioning my worth in her eyes. Why does the idea of being a replacement cut deeper than any physical pain?