33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
“ H appy birthday.”
Carter groans at my excited voice, then tugs me from where I’m kneeling so I fall into his embrace.
“Come on,” I say against his scratchy cheek.
“Since when do you get up early?” he says in that deep, sleep-laden voice of his that is enough to make my insides tingle.
“Since it’s your birthday.” I press kisses to his jaw, his neck, making him groan. “The earlier we wake, the longer we get to celebrate.” I poke him in the chest, then try to pull away to make him follow me up.
It doesn’t work. Instead, he pulls me even closer to him, then rolls us so his naked leg is propped on top of me, pinning me in place. The feel of his skin against mine makes me wish for a repeat of yesterday. And the night before. And the one before that. Since coming back from Lexie and Finn’s, there hasn’t been a single night we haven’t spent tangled up together, every piece of him finding a way to connect with one of mine.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” he says, lightly biting my collarbone, just enough to get me writhing under him. He’s hardening against my hip, too .
I flip us again so I’m straddling him, his eyes going right to my exposed breasts. “Well, with me, you do.” In truth, I woke up with a throbbing headache and aching muscles and would want nothing more than to stay in bed all day, but I’d guessed Carter had never had someone celebrate his birthday in proper form, and he deserved it. “Happy thirtieth, Andy.”
Something glimmers in his eyes as he looks at me, not at my body or my face but me, and then he tugs me down to give me one long but tame kiss. “Thank you.” Then he begins trailing kisses down from my neck, to my breasts, to my sternum, then to my belly.
“Wait,” I say, neck extended, not moving away just yet. “I need to give you your gift.”
“I already have a gift all right,” he says, never looking up, pushing me away from his lap so he can drag his lips to my stomach, my navel, my pubis. A shiver racks my body, one that makes me feel a little lightheaded.
“Later,” I say, then pull away and leave the bed before he keeps me in there forever. His slow footsteps follow me from the bedroom to the living room, where I have a pink Barbie gift bag waiting for him.
His brow quirks up in question, grinning as he watches the present.
“Overestimated my gifting supplies. Sorry.” Then I grab the bag and extend it to him. “It’s nothing big, though, so don’t be disappointed.”
He rolls his eyes, then pulls at the tissue paper and looks inside .
He doesn’t react right away—or even at all—when he sees the bird house I went to get at the hardware store yesterday. When I thought about what this man who lives so simply could want, it was the one thing that came to mind.
“It’s also a little thank you for all you’ve been doing around the house.” I’ll never be able to show him just how grateful I am for all the pressure he’s taken off me by doing those repairs I’d been putting off for years. “And I thought you might like this, to replace your old one.” I cross my arms in front of me, his silence starting to feel thick as honey. “I want you to feel like this place is your home too.”
His throat works as he pulls it out of the bag and starts examining the simple bird house from every angle. Still no reaction.
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” God, maybe I should’ve kept that impulsive idea to myself. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up from the little wooden house, and the way he says it sounds genuine. It’s in the thickness of his voice, in the way he holds the gift close to him, looking so fragile in his large hands.
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
His gaze doesn’t stray, so full of emotions as he continues watching me, that the three words I’ve been thinking for days every time he moved inside me or brushed my hair out of my face or kissed me good night threaten to slip out.
But before I can decide whether I’m ready to make that move, a wave of fatigue swarms me, and as I reach for Carter, the world starts to spin. I have to brace myself against the wall to regain my balance, eyes closed tight against the jackhammer in my head.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his gift forgotten on the floor, arms around me.
“Nothing.” I force a smile. I’m not ruining his day. “Just a little lightheaded.” I hate the worried look he’s sporting, so I push myself off the wall to reach the box, but this time, the tide of dizziness hits me so hard, I can’t even stay upright.
“Lili.” Carter falls to his knees beside me, then presses a clammy hand against my forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shake my head. Already, my mind is veering down a dangerous path, one that wonders whether this could be anything serious. It’s not, though. I have bouts of low BP all the time. I try to lift myself but can barely do so. Nausea suddenly hits my gut, and I have to breathe in slowly to make sure I don’t throw up all over the floor.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“God, no,” I grit out. “I’m fine. Just give me a second.” I try to straighten once again, but I gag and fall back.
My heart rate picks up, maybe because of whatever’s happening or maybe because I’m starting to freak out. This feels different than the other times I felt like I was going to pass out. My thoughts are a sudden hurricane, hurtling nightmarish scenarios my way.
This can’t be a rejection. It can’t. We’re two years post-transplant. The risks have drastically decreased.
If it is… I can’t even allow my thoughts to go there. Getting through my transplant was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t go back on dialysis either. Not after tasting freedom for two years.
I need to gasp for my next breath as the possibility anchors itself. This might be the time I wake up from my dream.
“Not up for discussion,” Carter says, picking me up from the ground. I want to protest some more, but I don’t think it’ll be worth it, and even if it was, the safety of his arms feels too good for me to push him away.
“How are you feeling?”
“Exactly like I did five minutes ago,” I tease Carter with a grin. He doesn’t return it. “Better.” The medication I was given to get my temperature down while the doctors ran some tests did wonders.
Carter still doesn’t let go of the hand he’s been holding for the past hour, his thumb rubbing the spot that usually holds the ring I had to take off to do some imaging.
“What a birthday, huh?” I feel terrible for ruining it.
He ignores me, only grumbles, “You scared the shit out of me.”
Not going to lie, I scared the shit out of me too. I won’t say that aloud, though. Not when he’s already strung up this tight.
I’m not in the clear just yet, but the fact that I’m feeling better makes me hopeful.
“Lilianne? What are you doing here? ”
We both turn toward the petite woman who just walked into the room. Carter’s grip tightens around my hand, but I let him go as I sit up in bed, arms extended. “Zineb!”
She immediately comes to hug me. It might have been against the rules for us to be this close when I was still her patient, but with how close we are in age, I always saw her as some sort of friend.
“Just feeling a little under the weather,” I say in her dark hair. “Nothing bad.”
“Good. I’m glad I never heard from you again after your surgery,” she says, smiling.
My social worker was a pillar during my time on the transplant waitlist and then when I was recovering post-op. There are so many confusing and sometimes contradicting feelings that come with going through dialysis and receiving a transplant, and she helped me as I went through them all.
“Me too,” I say.
She holds me by the shoulders and takes me in like a proud mother would, then looks to my left. “And who is—” Her expression falters, words hanging from her lips as she squints at Carter.
“This is my husband. Carter.” It feels almost natural to say this now, like every day we spend together, our marriage becomes less of a sham and more of a true engagement.
She tries to hide it, but I don’t miss the rounding of her eyes. “Oh.”
My brows furrow as I turn to Carter, but his expression is glacial and fixed on Zineb. His head moves slightly as if he’s shaking it at her .
“I don’t understand,” I say, still grinning. “Do you guys know each other?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, making my heart rate skyrocket. Another wave of dizziness hits me, but I ignore it, looking between Zineb and Carter. I can’t tell what’s happening, but my stomach twists in a knot like my body knows something my mind doesn’t. I push myself so I’m sitting straighter.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” My smile fades. The air suddenly feels wrong in the room, syrupy and foul.
Finally, Zineb breaks the strange contact she had with Carter and clears her throat. “It, um, it was great seeing you again, Lilianne. I hope you feel better.” She doesn’t hug or even so much as glance at me as she leaves, looking like she’s come face to face with a ghost.
I spin to Carter, ignoring the throbbing in my head. “I don’t understand. Did you, like, date or something?” Zineb talked about her husband a few times and told me they’d been married for years, but I guess it could’ve happened at some point.
A muscle ticks in his jaw as he shakes his head once.
“Then what? Why was she being so weird?”
He doesn’t answer. His gaze doesn’t meet mine either.
“You’re starting to scare me,” I say, voice cracking as if I know that the other shoe I was waiting on to drop is finally there. “What’s going on?”
“Let this go, Lili. Please.”
My hands are shaking in my lap. My entire body, actually. Even my teeth chatter. “Tell me. ”
He lets out one terribly long, terribly loaded breath, then his shoulders drop as if he’s been carrying a weight he’s finally laying down. When he meets my eyes, they’re shining. “I never meant for you to find out this way.”
I can’t move, can’t speak.
He goes to grab my hand, but I move it away, needing space to hear whatever he has to say. He swallows forcefully. “I knew your father, honey.”
The world turns silent except for the faint ringing in my ears.
I must have misheard him. Must have because there’s no way I’ve been lied to for the past six months.
Carter tries to touch me again, but when I move my entire body away from him, scurrying away like a hurt animal, he gives up. His hands crossed on the bed, eyes downturned, he says, “He was my AA sponsor.”
“No,” I whisper, only realizing once I hear it that I said it aloud.
“He was a good man. A great fucking man. He gave me my life back. I owe him everything .” His voice becomes thicker as he rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “And… Fuck.” Clearly, whatever he’s trying to get out is even worse than all he’s just said, but still, nothing makes sense.
Until everything clicks into place.
Zineb. Carter. Dad.
I owe him everything.
He must see in my face the moment I realize the truth because his eyes fill as he watches me .
I push through the thickness in my throat to say, “Why does the transplant unit social worker know you, Carter?”
He doesn’t answer, which means even more than words could.
I shake my head, again and again, but I still can’t make myself believe it. This is not happening to me. The man I’ve fallen for hasn’t been lying to me this entire time. He hasn’t…
“Lilianne, I—”
“Your shirt.”
“What?”
“Lift up your shirt.” For all the times we’ve been intimate, I just realized I’ve always been the only one completely naked. Even when I saw him in the shower, he never faced me.
Please, lift up your shirt and prove to me that this is all just a misunderstanding.
Carter’s eyes fill, but I don’t budge. His head drops between his shoulders. “I can explain everything,”
“Lift. Up. Your. Shirt.”
He gives me a look that will forever haunt my nights before he stands and lifts his shirt just enough that I can see the eight-inch-long scar that’s a mirror image to mine.
I bring a hand to my lips, twin tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn’t have been this naive. This blind.
I want to puke, throw my phone against the wall, and rip out my hair.
“When did you know?” I blurt, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “When we met? Before?” My voice is shrill, like a fire alarm during the quiet night .
“God, no,” he says, pleading with his stare.
“When then?” My teeth are clenched so tight it worsens the ache in my body, but it’s the only thing I can do not to break down entirely. “Tell me.” I can’t have fallen for another man who only ever saw me as a pity case.
He runs a violent hand through his hair. “I only connected the dots when I heard your full name at the wedding.”
My entire being shuts down.
“All this time?” I breathe. I can barely hear the words coming out, so full of shock, of self-disgust. They’re the cry of a dying man.
“Lilianne, I—”
“Get out.”
“Please, I can explain.”
“It was all fake.” I’m talking to myself now. All those moments of found connection, of sacred touches and whispered truths. All a lie.
“No, baby, it wasn’t—”
“I said get out.” I can’t even look at him. It feels as if he’s just stolen my heart right out of my chest and thrown it in a lit pyre. Nothing makes sense. Nothing ever will.
He knew the truth about my father all along. He left me rotting in my doubt and never planned on letting me know. And above all, he knew about that .
I look down at my belly, at the pink scar I know is hidden under the green hospital gown.
The room once again starts to spin. Acid climbs my throat, and a wave of heat stuns my body.
“Lili?”
The world turns black.