Chapter 21
Ivy
“I’m not sure what’s happened to him. He was fine one moment, and the next he collapsed.” Greta’s voice is hurried and panicked as she speaks, but she occasionally checks herself as though she’s trying to be calm. I sink onto the chaise lounge, fear weakening my knees. The sirens in the background don’t help. They make me even more anxious and hard for me to hear her over. “We were about to go to sleep after a bath when he started having seizures. Is he allergic to anything?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “No. He doesn’t have a peanut allergy or anything like that.” Damien walks in at that moment with a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s going on?”
I get tongue-tied and return my attention to the call. “Is he awake? Can I talk to him?”
I hear some muffled and garbled sounds and then Lake’s weak voice. “Mommy?” He sounds hoarse, as though he has a sore throat.
My heart swells when I hear him. At least he can talk. At least he’s not unconscious. “I’m coming there Lake.”
“I don’t know what happened. I didn’t steal anything or eat what I shouldn’t.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. No one is accusing you of anything. I am coming over there. Give the phone to Greta.” Some more shuffling and muffled sounds, and then Greta’s voice. She tells me the hospital she’s taking him to and I make a mental note of the name. It’s a popular hospital, the closest one to Damien’s place. I end the call and turn to him. He looks like he was frozen there the entire time. “Lake collapsed.”
“Collapsed?” He folds his arms across his chest.
“He’s being taken to a hospital. Greta thinks it could be an allergy or something. Lake’s never had any allergies before. He’s always been a healthy kid.” I look around for my dress. It’s under a chair. I grab it and put it on as quickly as I can, but my movements are too hurried and the zipper gets stuck as I try to push it up.
“Let me.” Damien materializes to my side and gently nudges my hand away. The zipper gives way to him and he zips me up. I turn to face him. “He has never had any issues before.”
“There’s a first time for everything. I’ll tell the pilot to bring the chopper. He’s five minutes away.”
Damien galvanizes into action and gets on his phone. He makes a few phone calls where he orders a few people around while getting dressed. Even he is nervous because he doesn’t bother with the tie and two of the middle buttons of his shirt are not buttoned.
A few minutes later, I hear the sounds of helicopter blades whirling outside and we leave the house. We make it to the hospital in record time, but it feels like ages to me. The walk down the sterile corridors is like a never-ending marathon and when I finally see Greta, I rush over to her.
“Where is he?”
She opens the door she’s been standing outside of and we enter a private room. Lake is sleeping soundly with drips and monitors hooked up to him. I immediately rushed to his side. His lips and throat look swollen, but other than that, there’s nothing that says he’s not fine. I glance at the machine above his head. His vitals are fine, but his heart rate is a little elevated.
“What happened?” Damien demanded.
“The doctor said it’s nothing serious, but he needs to some hydration. She thinks he might have eaten something allergic, and it caused his tonsils to swell.” Greta darts over to the small table next to Lake’s bed and grabs a notepad. “I’ve written everything he ate during the day. Nothing sticks out. I try to avoid stuff like nuts until I am given the go-ahead by the parent.”
I take the notepad. She has written a list of foods, the times Lake ate and the quantities. Well, some foods have quantities notes and the ones that don’t are noted with an asterisk. There’s a legend below that explains the asterisks. ‘quantity unknown.’ I have to grudgingly admit that she’s a much better caretaker of Lake than Phoebe. This whole situation might have been too much for someone like Phoebe. I doubt she would have had the forethought to sit down and write everything Lake ate.
I make a quiet thank you and read through the list. There’s nothing here I can point to as the culprit. Everything he ate today is stuff he’s eaten before. There are a couple of fruits, bread, vegetables, chicken breast, roast potatoes.
They didn’t even order takeout, which would not have been unreasonable since Damien’s private chef was with us. It seems like she cooked instead.I turn to Lake while Damien takes the list out of my hand. His shoulders tense, his eyes scan the notepad, and with a clenched jaw, he says, “Is that all?”
“It’s all I can remember.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is harsh and makes the usually stoic nanny jumpy.
“I’m sure she tried her best to write down everything,” I say, holding his arm. Surprisingly, that takes some of the tension out of his body. Damien rubs his forehead and sighs, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure, that’s all.”
Greta’s eyes brighten. “Your assistant!” she bursts out.
Damien raises his brows. “My assistant?”
I feel a cold prickling sensation at the back of my neck.
“She came earlier to drop some files for you and she played with Lake while I was making dinner. Maybe she gave him something.” Damien raises his eyebrows. Realizing the insinuation of Greta’s words, she adds, “Like candy or something. Maybe the candy has some allergen in it.”
“Thanks,” I say to her. “You’ve been a great help.”
“I’m sorry about what happened,” she cries.
“It’s not your fault,” I say. She doesn’t seem to believe me. Her face is full of worry and she’s more than a little stressed out. It must have been harrowing for her to have a child collapse on her watch. Her lips are white and she looks like she hasn’t had a drink in ages. I brush her arm. “How about you give yourself some rest? We’ll take it from here.”
“I’m so sorry.” She apologizes again and waves goodbye to Lake before leaving. As soon as the door closes Damien curses. “I should fire her.”
“I don’t think she’s at fault.” Taking the notepad from his hand, I analyze the list again. “She did all she could and better than most babysitters.”
“She’s not a babysitter. She’s well-trained professional nanny. Her job is to keep my son safe.”
My stomach does that wobbly thing it does every time he calls Lake his son. “Which she did well. No one can see everything all the time. Mistakes happen. And besides, Lake has never had allergies before.”
“Weren’t you the one who didn’t want her looking after Lake in the first place?”
“The person I am most worried about is your assistant. What the fuck did Nicole give him?”
Damien’s eyes narrow. “You think Nicole poisoned Lake?”
“I don’t think she gave him a spoonful of cyanide, but she could have given him something that could have caused a negative reaction.” I wave the notepad at him. “It’s the only time and activity not accounted for.”
“What do you have against her?”
“Against Nicole?” My mind goes to that harrowing time when I was hysterically trying to contact Damien and how Nicole was the barrier to that. Is that why I mistrust her? No. Something’s telling me not to trust her. It might be irrational, but I can’t ignore it. “Nothing,” I say, “but it’s her time that’s not accounted for.”
“Yeah, but I doubt she could have—
“Mom?” Lake’s croaking voice grabs both of our attention, and we both turn to him. His eyes flicker open, heavy with sleep and sedatives. I lean over him, “Hi.” He looks weary.
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you before, none of this is your fault.”
“People get sick all the time,” Damien says. “It happens.” He moves closer and comes to stand beside me.
“You said I should not take food from strangers, but I did. Nicole--”
The door to the room swings open and a nurse waltzes in with a clipboard in hand. “How’s my little trooper doing?”
Lakes croaks a “Fine,” as she closes the door. Her gaze turns to us and she beams. “And are they your parents?”
Lake nods.
“Now I get why you’re such a heart-stealer.”
Lake smiles in return. We must look like a happy family from an outsider. A young couple coming from some dinner event and was concerned about their son’s well-being. I’m grateful for my coat covers the little cocktail dress inside. And as though to solidify the happy family image, Damien takes hold of my hand.
“What is the problem?” he asks. “We were told that he had a negative reaction to something he ate.”
The nurse sighs. “Yes,” and checks her clipboard. “His tonsils swelled up, something similar to what we see in nut allergies, but I understand your son doesn’t have one?”
“He’s always eaten peanuts,” I say. “He loves peanut butter.”
“Some children develop allergies later in life. That must have happened to him.”
“But he didn’t eat anything with nuts in it.”
“Plenty of products might have traces of nuts in them. Candy, especially, is one to look out for. He might also have eaten some type of nut he’s never had before and that might have triggered the reaction.”
I turn to Lake. “Did Nicole give you anything when she came by?”
Lake casts his gaze down. He nods slightly.
“Lake.” More sternly this time. “What did she give you?”
He looks away. Now I’m even more concerned. He is a little more terrified than before and he looks like he wants to dig up a hole and bury himself inside. He clutches at the blanket, but it doesn’t budge. After a minute that feels like five, he answers in a barely audible voice. “Chocolate pistacho.”
Damien frowns. “Chocolate pistachio nuts?”
Lake barely nods.
Several emotions flick over Damien’s face. He seems not only unable to believe his son, but at the same time, convinced he’s telling the truth.
“Are…Pistachios something you’re allergic to?” The nurse enquires.
Damien nods.
“Well, there we go.” The nurse says matter-of-factly. “It could be a family thing. Although I am not a doctor and I can’t speak more about this, that’s possible. Plenty of people inherit their allergies.”
I can’t believe I had forgotten that about him. I remember his distaste for nuts and thought it was a preference. Little did I know, he had an allergy. He never gave it away. He rarely gives anything away. I turn my attention to Lake and wonder if Damien was ever hospitalized when he was Lake’s age.
“Things like this can be hard to catch, especially when it’s hereditary. The parent might have designed their life subconsciously in such a way that the child never encounters the allergy until well into adulthood sometimes,” the nurse says as she checks Lake’s vitals and gives him and adjusts the machine. “The doctor will come to you soon,” she says as she’s about to leave. Then she blows a kiss to Lake and adds, “See you later, trouper.”
Lake goes back to sleep again after a few minutes. I turn to Damien. “You never told me you were allergic to pistachios.”
“I don’t know. I thought you knew.”
“Nicole certainly knew.”
“She probably gave them to him without thinking. I don’t think it’s some grand skim to hurt Lake.”
“Is it not? She just came to your apartment and gave your son something she knows you’re allergic to, for shits and giggles.”
“Next, you’re going to tell me the moon landing is fake.”
“Oh, come on.” I raise my voice a little and Lake fidgets in his sleep. I dropped it to a whisper. “She must have accidentally dropped by your place with a bag full of treats that might harm my child for no other reason.”
Damien rolls his eyes. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.”
Why am I bothering with trying to convince him? Damien is convinced that I am the worst person he’s ever met, while he can never make the fatal mistake of thinking someone he trusts would poison his child.
“Believe whatever you want to believe, but I don’t want Nicole anywhere near Lake ever again.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
“I’m serious.” The room goes quiet and the only sound that can be heard is the beeping of the machine and Lake’s ragged breathing. Damien stares at me. I stand my ground. Finally, he relents. “Whatever makes you happy, Ivy.”
“And I don’t want her coming to your place like she lives there.”
“She’s my assistant. How else is she supposed to do her job?”
“At your office. During office hours.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to hear that.”
The room goes silent again as Damien and I sit on opposite sides of the bed watching Lake. Of course, he’s attached to Nicole. When he was working for Hawthorne Inc., she served as his assistant. And when he left the company; she followed him like she wasRenée ZellwegerinJerry Maguire. She has worked for him since and is probably his most loyal lieutenant. I wonder if she’s more than that. If she’s offered services, that went beyond her job description. My chest clenches as irrational jealousy builds up inside me. Images of her and Damien having sex in his office pop into my head. Damien doesn’t strike me as the type to fuck his secretary, but he has an insatiable appetite. And Nicole is really good-looking. She’s certainly more put together than I am. Suddenly, the idea is no longer laughable. How many times have they had sex, I wonder? Was their relationship casual or something more? Thoughts of the two of them together dominate my mind until I burst out, “Have you ever slept with her?”
Damien frowns, and then his face shines as though some realization has dawned on him. “You’re jealous of Nicole?”
“No!” I feel exposed. Like my heart is bared open and he can see every yearning written on it.
“If you must know,” he says with a smirk on his face, “Nicole is not my type. And I don’t shit where I eat. Learned that lesson the hard way.” I don’t need to ask to know what he’s referring to. At least he’s no longer blaming me for that night.
“What’s your type?” I blurt out without meaning to.
He smiles. “Are you wondering if you fit the criteria?”
“I’m only making conversation. If you don’t want to respond, you don’t have to.”
Damien strides over to where I am sitting and takes the chair next to me. My pulse speeds up just that much faster. I was having sex with this man a few hours ago. Despite that, my body reacts like that of a hormonal teenager. “I wouldn’t say I have a type per se, but if I have to think about it, I would say, someone who’s smart. Definitely that. I can’t stand dumbasses.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Someone kind and fun to be around. Someone caring, but feisty and a fighter when threatened. And of course great in bed.”
I feel inadequate when he mentions all of that. I’m sure he sees me as having qualities opposite to the ones he mentioned. “Not a supermodel with double d boobs and a tiny waist?”
“Surprised I’m not superficial?”
I’ve never thought him to be superficial, but he is known for dating supermodels. I’ve never followed his dating life closely, but whenever he’s mentioned in the news, it is always with a beautiful woman on his arm. Sometimes an actress and sometimes a model. “What about all the famous women you’ve dated?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Some of them are smarter than you. Some of them are smart enough to be scientists, but they chose a different profession.”
“I’m not putting myself in the running for your affections.” Liar. Even Damien can tell that it's a lie. I have vied for his attention in the past. To an embarrassing extent. I wonder if he hated me even back then. It’s clear he despises me now and only tolerates me because of Lake. Tonight quashed any dream little old me used to have. That ideal I strove for, of marrying him and making love to him, had happened, but my wish came from a monkey’s paw. Instead of a lovely big wedding with all my relatives there, it was a small and done in service for an agreement. Instead of Damien making love to me and whispering sweet nothings in my ear, I get a vengeful Damien who wants to exact revenge in any way possible.
So why do I still want him? Because I am in love with him, that’s why. He can hurt me a thousand times over. He can make me cry, bruise my ego, and kill my dreams and I will love him, regardless.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Damien will never love me. Tonight is all the proof I needed. He loves Lake, but not me. Never me. And it’s about time I make peace with that. Instead of trying to look for the old Damien inside him, I have to accept that he was a figment of my imagination.