32. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Duncan
S he didn't forgive me, but she didn't mind me hanging around her bakery all day , which I did.
I basically commandeered a round table close to an electric outlet. It had my laptop, my iPad, and my phone. I took meetings and calls from the kitchen if there were customers. When someone insisted I come to the office or check in at the gallery for an auction, I sent Dean, who grumbled a little because he was managing the Asia office and the Paris one, which meant he wasn't getting a lot of sleep. I told him I didn't give a shit; I wasn't leaving my wife.
In the afternoon, I made sure Elsa rested and took over the counter. Thierry, I realized, only worked few hours a day at Délices d'Elsa, and the rest of the time did whatever the hell he did. I had figured out that Thierry had other sources of income and since I wasn't sure those were legal, I didn't ask. What I didn't know couldn't bother me. Also, he kept Elsa safe. He adored my wife and was her family for all practical purposes. I was grateful to him, even if it rankled that she put her faith in a fucking possible criminal and not me.
Several days after the ultrasound appointment, Elsa looked more tired than usual and refused to sit when I asked her to. My wife was all about the rebellion and showing me how much she didn't need me. She needn't have bothered. I was pretty aware of how much I'd fucked up with her—so much so that Elsa didn't want to hear me saying I loved her; and hadn't said those words back to me, neither in English nor in French, since that horrible day in my office with Dom.
To give that asshole credit, he steered clear of me. I knew he was sorry for hurting Elsa—but Dom was a man with a clear agenda. He was out to save the world and believed in the do it for the greater good philosophy. Yet, I knew the way Elsa had been when she left my office had torn at him. He deserved it, the son of a bitch because I was still on my knees in front of my wife, and not in a good way.
She let me kiss her forehead and sometimes her cheek. She let me touch her belly, but I asked for permission each time, which pissed me off to no end. It was clear I had no rights, only privileges that could be revoked.
"Can't you sit the fuck down, ma douce ," I tried again as she waddled, a hand on her back, one on her stomach as she came in from the kitchen.
" Mêle-toi de tes affaires et laisse-moi tranquille, " she muttered. Mind your own business and leave me in peace!
A customer grinned as she handed me eight euros and fifty cents for a loaf of bread and a latte.
"I am minding my business, ma chérie . You are my wife, and therefore my business," I replied with a broad smile.
She muttered something unintelligible that I didn't catch because I was distracted again with a customer. Just then, I heard a commotion and gasps from the customers who stood in line.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw Elsa stumble, her face pale and beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She tried to steady herself on the counter, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed.
"Elsa!" I shouted, vaulting over the counter, rushing to her side. My hands were shaking as I kneeled beside her, my heart pounding in my chest. She was unconscious, her breathing shallow and rapid.
"Someone call an ambulance!" I yelled, my voice cracking with panic.
"What happened?" Thierry, who had just come in, ran to us, his face ashen.
Someone called 112 as I cradled Elsa in my arms, feeling utterly helpless. "Hang on, Elsa. Please, hang on," I whispered, my voice trembling. She felt so fragile, and the thought of losing her or our baby was unbearable.
The minutes stretched on like hours, but finally, the paramedics arrived. They quickly assessed her condition, checking her vitals and starting an IV. "She's dehydrated and exhausted," one of them said. "We need to get her to the hospital."
Thierry urged me to go with Elsa and told me he'd follow.
I refused to let go of Elsa's hand. The ride to the hospital was a blur of sirens and fear, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
I couldn't lose Elsa.
I couldn't lose our baby.
"I'm fine," Elsa murmured. She'd woken up while the paramedics took care of her.
"You have an IV lodged in your fucking arm. You're not fucking fine," I growled.
A paramedic pursed her lips. "You are American?" she asked in English with a French accent.
"Yes," I said.
" Et tu es un casse-pieds ," Elsa groaned. And a pain in the ass!
"She's fine," the paramedic told me as she checked Elsa's vitals. "She's just dehydrated and tired. She needs bed rest for a few days and Viola! She'll be back to normal."
At the hospital, they wheeled Elsa into the emergency room, and I was left pacing the waiting area, my thoughts a chaotic mess. Dean and Thierry arrived shortly after, their faces etched with worry.
"She was overdoing it but wouldn't fucking listen." I ran a hand through my hair. "She's dehydrated. And she's tired."
"I told her as well," Thierry said wearily, "but you know how she gets. Stubborn like her Mamman."
"How do we make sure this doesn't happen?" Dean wanted to know.
"By keeping her in bed," I vowed, "And she'll be there even if I have to fucking handcuff her to it."
Dean made a face. "I don't need to know whatever kinky stuff y'all are into."
I flipped him off. "Fuck you, Dean."
Before he could say something else to piss me off, a doctor came out and asked for the family of Elsa Sainte-Croix.
"Elsa Archer," I corrected him automatically. I needed to get someone to expedite the paperwork and make sure she had new documentation with her actual name. My last name.
The doctor, who looked all of twenty years old, cocked an eyebrow.
"She's my wife. How is Elsa? How's the baby?"
The doctor began to speak in French but I raised my hand to silence him. I wasn't in a place to focus on another language right now. "In English, s'il vous pla?t ."
The doctor nodded. "She's stable," he said, his tone reassuring. "She was severely dehydrated and exhausted, but we've given her fluids, and she's responding well. The baby is fine. We'll keep her here for a little while to monitor her, but she should be okay."
Relief washed over me so intensely that my knees nearly buckled. " Merci ," I managed to say, my voice choked with emotion. "Can I see her?"
" D'accord ," the doctor said. "Come with me." He looked at Dean and Thierry.
"They're friends," I explained.
"Just one person at a time until we move her to the maternity ward. I think she should stay the night, and you can take her home tomorrow." The young doctor nodded at Thierry and Dean.
I entered the room Elsa was in quietly, my heart aching at the sight of Elsa lying on the hospital bed, looking so small and vulnerable. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a weak smile.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," I replied, gently taking her hand. "You scared the hell out of me."
She squeezed my hand weakly. "Scared myself as well."
"Don't ever do that again ," I said, my voice cracking.
She frowned. "Your bedside manner is horrible ." She said the word horrible in French.
I leaned to kiss her forehead. "I'm so glad you're okay. Both of you."
Tears welled up in her eyes, and I brushed them away gently. "Hey, hey, hey."
"I was so scared that I hurt the baby." She put her hand, the one without the IV, on her stomach. "I was so stupid. I should've listened to you, to Thierry."
"Next time, you will ," I said sternly. "You need rest, and you're going to get it if I need to fucking chain you to the bed."
I expected her to yell at me, but instead, she smiled. "Really?"
I kissed her lips this time and was relieved when she didn’t push me away. I knew this was not her forgiving me. This was her leaning on me during her time of need. A good man would not take advantage of her vulnerability. I was not a good man. I would be taking advantage of her being weak right now.
"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I know you're still pissed with me, but I'm moving back into the apartment, or you can live at my place or the Ritz. Your call."
She closed her eyes. "I want to stay in my apartment."
I looked at her beautiful face, overwhelmed by a new kind of anguish. My heart pounded like a runaway horse. I had never been more terrified than when I saw Elsa collapse.
"I'll stay with you," I announced.
I waited for her answer, knowing that if she said non , in that cute French way of hers, there really was nothing I could do about it. I could bully and boss, but Elsa was a woman with a spine of steel, and she could ask me to fuck off; she already had a few times.
" D'accord ," she whispered without opening her eyes.
I felt relief swarm through me. She'd let me live with her again. Sure, it sucked that she had to get dehydrated while pregnant to make that happen; but I wasn't going to look at this gift askance. I never ever wanted her to feel that ill again—but I was here, and I wasn't going anywhere, ever again.
I leaned into her, embracing her the best I could with the IV and wires to monitors and devices.
"I was so scared, Elsa," I whispered in her hair.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, clutching at me.
"I should've taken better care of you. I will take better care of you," I promised.
We held each other for a long time, fear slowly giving way to a fragile hope. I knew things wouldn’t be easy, but I was committed to being there for her, proving she could count on me. The scare was a wake-up call—reminding me how precious life is and how much I love her and our baby. I wasn’t going to waste another second.