Chapter Seventeen #2
I don’t bother to ask if his uncertainty is over not catching me, almost kissing me, or the crazy mood swings he makes me endure.
Because it doesn’t matter. I can’t keep letting him mess with my emotions, regardless of if he understands what he is doing or not. He doesn’t want to have a friendship with me? Fine. That was all I was asking for, but not anymore.
I will be the epitome of professionalism.
About an hour of brief statements and formal speech passes between us before Darcy, taking me by surprise, actually has cinnamon rolls delivered to his office. Janice brings them in and tells us to have a wonderful night and to enjoy her secret family recipe before scurrying out.
“I’m sorry I let you fall, Hayden,” he says, offering me a plate with three cinnamon rolls. There’s a trace of uncertainty in his eyes, and I have to hold in my laugh. He’s such a paradox.
“Thank you,” I reply, taking the plate. It’s warm on the bottom, and the smell of the cinnamon rolls leave my mouth watering. Taking a bite, I relish in the gooeyness. “Okay, you’re forgiven.” The words come out mumbled because my mouth is full of deliciousness.
Darcy smiles softly, watching me eat. I gesture for him to get one, but he declines with a shake of his head. Once I’ve devoured the first cinnamon roll while he’s fidgeted awkwardly with his shirt sleeves and straightened the pens on his desk three times, he says, “I’m autistic.”
Again, I find myself holding in a laugh.
Not because I find the situation funny, but because it’s so obvious.
I should have known. So many people go undiagnosed, and I had an inkling he may fall into that category, but it wasn’t my place to pry.
I set the plate down, blot my face with a tissue from his desk, and look into his eyes.
Blue irises search me, waiting for a reaction. He’s scared.
“Thank you for telling me, Darcy.” I reach for his hand, and surprisingly, he allows me to take it from across the desk. “It helps me understand you better. But it doesn’t change who you are in my eyes, okay?”
He laughs lightly. “Is that a good thing? That I’m still the same in your eyes?”
“Yes.” I grin. “You are the same stoic, sometimes robotic, man that I married. Now I understand why you’re that way.”
“Do you think it’s bad that I’m that way?”
The uncertainty in his voice pinches my core.
I squeeze his hand. “No. Not at all.” I lean across the desk, and when he warily eyes the papers I’m accidently shuffling around, I can’t help but laugh, which brings his attention back to me.
I smirk. “I like your sourness. Balances my sweet nicely. For example,” I wiggle against the papers on his desk, “I can mess up your desk and watch your frustrations grow. It’s fun to crawl underneath your skin. ”
He sighs, closing his eyes, and I laugh again as he removes his hand from mine and stands, opening his eyes once more.
But they’ve darkened. He steps round the desk, and I stand to meet him, a mild fear he’s going to reprimand me for leaning over the top of his desk.
That signature spicy and sweet scent he carries mingles with the cinnamon rolls, creating something enchanting.
We’re toe-to-toe, him towering over me as his mussed hair falls against the side of his face, when he whispers like a spoken lullaby, “What am I going to do with all of your sunshine? You’re chasing away my cloudy skies. ”
The alarm on my phone goes off too early. Why did he schedule our flight so early? It’s ungodly to be awake at 4:15 in the morning, especially when I didn’t collapse into bed until a little after one in the morning.
Three hours of sleep to run on. Dream-filled sleep. Dreams where Darcy cleared off his desk with the sweep of his hand, lifted me by the hips, and set me on top. We won’t talk about what happened next.
I drag my heated self out of bed, throw on my robe, and begin the lengthy process of transforming from regular Hayden Bennett to Hayden Bennett Marshall while not thinking of the all-too-vivid dream.
Since we are flying to Texas today, I opt for flowy yellow linen pants and a white sleeveless blouse, a light layer of makeup, and an updo.
A stylist will be waiting for me to change my entire outfit, face, and hairstyle before the event, but I still have to look dressy and presentable for travel.
I never know when the media will snap a picture of me and Darcy together, and I cannot make him look bad.
Being his wife is only an extension of my campaign manager position, after all.
About an hour later, I’m standing by the front door with a travel bag waiting on Darcy. I check my watch, realizing he is three minutes late. Darcy Marshall is never late. Never.
“Mrs. Marshall!” One of the housekeepers scurries down the corridor calling my name over and over.
“Janice,” I state as she comes into full view. “What’s wrong?”
A little out of breath, she responds, “It’s Mr. Marshall. He’s in a lot of pain, complaining about his side and back. He can barely move. I think it might be kidney stones again. He used to get them even though he hasn’t had them in a while.”
Coldness sweeps through me. “Has anyone contacted the doctor?”
She nods her head emphatically. “But he won’t be here for another twenty minutes, and Mr. Marshall is adamant about making it to his flight.”
“We’re flying on his private plane,” I state. “We have the power to easily reschedule. We can bump departure time back a couple of hours. We can dress on the plane for the event tonight if we need to.”
“Will you come explain that to him? He simply isn’t listening to us.” The frail look on her face persuades me.
Plus, I get the opportunity to go into Darcy’s room. It’s one of the few rooms I haven’t stepped foot in since working here and moving in as his wife.
“Let’s go.”
A little over a minute later, we stand at his doorway.
The urge to knock and make my presence known is overwhelming, but I also don’t want to be screamed at to go away.
If normal Darcy is grumpy, there’s no telling what in-pain Darcy is going to be like.
Putting on my mental armor, I shove open the double doors to his bedroom.
He sits on his bed slumped over with one pant leg on and the other dangling off to the side, revealing boxer briefs that…
have prickly cacti on them? How fitting.
I bite my tongue to hold in my laugh. His hair is disheveled, sticking up like a classic anime character, and his white dress shirt is only buttoned halfway. Like that dream…
The laughter I was holding back over his boxers fades, replaced with something more akin to a bomb igniting in my chest. My heart stutters, then begins pumping triple time when I get a good look at the man I’m married to.
When his gaze cuts to me, I throw my hands over my eyes as if I wasn’t ogling my sick husband.
However, his perfectly proportioned pectorals are branded into my brain now. I’ll die dreaming of that chest.
Not the time, Hayden, I reprimand myself.
“Darcy, you need to take care of yourself and wait for the doctor. We can push back our flight if we need to.”
“Hayden, what in the world are you doing in my room?” His voice is tired and scratchy. “Turn around.”
I do as he says because I can see the pain in his eyes and hear the suffering in his voice.
Darcy Marshall is not a man who will tolerate being seen as weak.
“Janice informed me of your possible predicament. If you push yourself too hard, you’ll take that much longer to heal and could end up in the hospital.
Then we will have to delay and reschedule a lot more than a flight. ”
“We have a schedule to stick to,” he says, though by the end of the slow statement, he’s groaning in pain.
“No. You are going to the hospital,” I state, making my decision. “Janice, we can’t wait on the doctor.”
Darcy groans again, clutching his side. I’ve never seen his face contorted in pure agony. The flight will wait.
“Fine,” he breathes out with yet another groan.
Immediately, Janice and Bennie, whom I didn’t realize had entered the room, are on the phone and making arrangements for Darcy to be secretly admitted to the hospital. A whirlwind of preparations begins, and I remain a wallflower, watching the whole scene play out.
Helplessness plagues my thoughts, and I wish I knew what I should do at this moment. But all I can do is watch.
Bennie dresses Darcy in joggers and a t-shirt. Janice packs a bag with Darcy’s things in case he has to stay overnight.
And I watch.
What kind of wife am I that I can’t help my husband in such a time as this?
Forty-five minutes later, Darcy and I are in the largest hospital room that I have ever seen—so large there is a small tree occupying the room.
Seriously, they must reserve these for future presidents and billionaires.
The walls are the typical white color, but the space is aesthetically pleasing with green accents and earthy decor.
Darcy is dressed in a hospital gown, but a white sheet covers him. He’s not sleeping, but his eyes are squeezed shut, creating creases in his forehead and a scrunch to his nose. My heart aches at the sight, and I send a silent prayer to God for quick healing and pain relief.
I need my future president functioning properly.
I need my husband to not to be in pain.
Bennie talks on his cellphone right outside the door, rearranging our plans, presumably.
Janice did not come with us, so now I must step up and be the actual wife in this situation, not his campaign manager.
When the doctor waltzes into the room, I whip out my phone to take notes. That’s what a wife would do, right?
“Mr. and Mrs. Marshall,” he begins with a friendly smile. His gray hair puts me at ease—a doctor with practice. Not to knock the young and upcoming doctors in the world, but for some reason, I trust this man a little more than someone looking fresh out of medical school.
I reach out to shake his hand. One sideways glance at Darcy tells me he is listening due to the new tilt of his head, though his eyes remain sealed shut.
“My name is Dr. Karl, and I will be your husband’s doctor for the duration of his stay.
We will need to run scans to check for kidney stones due to his history and the symptoms he is currently experiencing.
My team is right outside the door ready to take excellent care of Mr. Marshall.
This team has all signed nondisclosures, as have I. Do you have any questions?”
I shake my head, fully at ease. Doctor Karl has a certain energy that gives me peace.
“Thank you for your expertise,” I say dumbly. He only smiles and motions his team inside. Two young women and a man wheel Darcy out of the room.
He never opens his eyes.