Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
“Good news, Sean,” the emergency room doctor, a plucky young man with a full blond beard who insists I call him Barry instead of Dr. Liederman, says, nine hours later. “Your head CT came back normal. I think you’re right, and you just had a vasovagal episode.”
“Great,” I grumble. “Does that mean I’m free to go?”
“You’re free to go,” Barry says. “Just remember to stay hydrated and keep wearing those compression stockings.”
“And rest,” Julian chimes in from the chair by my bed.
He sits with his elbows propped on his knees, the picture of the concerned, attentive partner.
The nurses keep referring to him as my husband, and he doesn’t bother to correct them.
In fairness to him, neither do I. Julian has spent the entire night sitting dutifully at my side in an emergency room, sneaking ginger ales from the nutrition cupboards and charming the nurses into bringing me warm blankets.
It would seem petty to clarify our relationship to well-meaning strangers when he’s all but acting the part.
“Definitely do that too,” Barry says with a laugh. “Get well soon. Deb should be back soon with your discharge papers.”
Then he sweeps out of the room, off to tend to his ever-growing list of much sicker patients.
I release a slow groan. My annoyance at being stuck in an emergency room aside, I’m relieved to learn that I am not dying.
As much as I’d suspected that I’d just fainted the normal way, in the split second before I lost consciousness, I’d feared the worst: a ruptured aneurysm, a brain bleed that would take away my mobility and send me into an early retirement. But they’d found nothing.
Julian stands, yawns, stretches. The white tee he’d been wearing under his button-down rides up to reveal a strip of taut tan skin, an arc of a hip, a dark, sparse trail of hair that thickens before dipping beneath the waistband of black boxers.
I follow the path of it hungrily, then whip away, mortified, because how can I possibly be thinking of that right now?
In the copious downtime since we arrived in the emergency room, I’ve tried to reconcile my memory of our face-off with Melody with the reality of the man who tends to me now.
The way the dance floor seemed to drain of color the moment he stepped onto it, how every blood vessel in my body had hardened into steel when he touched Melody’s face.
His whispered commands, words that skimmed past my skin like feathers, our collective compulsion to obey.
A few years ago, Winny and I saw a magician live. He’d invited a guest onstage to demonstrate his skills at hypnotism, a prim middle-aged woman who went from skeptical to barking on all fours after a few choice words. I’d always thought it was bullshit. Now I’m not so sure.
You’re overthinking again. It’s much less likely that Julian is secretly capable of mind control and much more likely that he is simply very hot, and hot people tend to get what they want.
“Thanks for staying with me,” I tell him.
The look that Julian gives me is one of pure misery.
“This is my fault,” he says. “You were sick on Thursday. Instead of resting, you showed up to look after me, and I’ve been taking advantage ever since.”
I give him a rueful look and turn over my arm to examine the IV in the crook of my elbow. I’ve been pumped full of electrolytes and fluids and feel remarkably better.
“Way to take away my agency,” I say grimly. “I’ve felt pretty good since Thursday night, and I’ve definitely worked through worse days.”
“Just because you have doesn’t mean you should,” he says. “Promise me you’ll take it easy today. Stay in bed.”
I’m about to concede but remember that I have one more very important obligation.
“Sophie’s dance recital is tonight,” I say. “I have to be there.”
Julian turns abruptly to look at me head-on.
“Tonight?” he repeats. “What time?”
“It starts at six,” I say. It’s seven a.m. right now; the recital is barely eleven hours away. “I’ll get a nap in before I drive over—”
“No,” Julian says plainly.
I recoil, stunned. I’m not sure whether it’s out of annoyance at his presumption or if I’m the tiniest bit into the command in his tone.
“What do you mean, no?” I sputter.
“I mean, no, you’re not driving. You just passed out, Sean. Don’t tell me you think a forty-minute drive both ways is at all wise.” Julian crosses his arms. “I’ll take you.”
“There’s no need,” I say. “You heard Barry. It was hot in that room, I was dehydrated, and I probably vagaled. You’re traveling tomorrow, and you’ve been up all night. You should pack and—”
Julian narrows his eyes.
“I just want some time alone,” I emphasize. “I spent all yesterday talking to people, and last night was…” Strange. “Exhausting.”
It’s an excuse that would make most people back off, but Julian is not most people.
“You’ll be alone starting tomorrow,” he says. “It seems like right after you get discharged from an emergency room isn’t the best time to seek solitude. You’re not a dying bird, Sean.”
“No, I’m a very much alive and fully autonomous human woman,” I insist. “And while I appreciate your help today, I don’t have to accept your charity just because you’re offering it, Julian.”
“Charity?” Julian repeats, gobsmacked. “This isn’t charity, Sean. This is me trying to feel a little less useless than I did all night. I’m being selfish, and right now what I want is to take care of you a little. So just let me do that.”
He sounds dejected, like a puppy denied a belly rub, and I feel my hackles lower.
“Why is this such a big deal to you, Julian?” I ask softly. “Why does it matter so much?”
Color rises to Julian’s cheeks instantly. It’s subtle under his golden undertones—a bronze shift—but so abrupt that it makes me blush too.
Oh. Oh.
He raises a hand to cover his mouth as if to hide what his face has already revealed.
“You are so much crueler than you look,” he mumbles.
My head is buzzing. I feel like I’ve just downed my fourth cup of coffee and am reaching for the fifth.
I want, no, need Julian to say what he is implying out loud.
Need it more than the air I breathe. Except I’ve stopped doing that too.
Catching myself, I inhale in a gasp, and Julian’s brow furrows in concern.
“See? You aren’t well,” he says. “I’m being serious, Sean. Please. Promise me you’ll take it easy today.”
Distantly, I know that I’m still being chastised. But from this close, Julian is too overwhelming, and I can’t react with the contrition he expects.
“What will happen if I don’t?” I say. “Will you tie me down, Mr. Conrad?”
The shift in the mood is instant. Once the suggestion is spoken, I can’t shake the image of Julian’s hands around my wrists, holding them above my head, of ties and cuffs and ropes that keep me immobile and at his mercy.
It’s not something I’ve ever wanted before, if anything found a little distressing, but with this man?
My thighs clench, trying to scratch an itch I shouldn’t reach.
Julian’s eyes flicker to my lap, catching the movement, and then his hand snakes behind my neck, quick as a viper strike, and grips just hard enough to tilt my head back.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispers, his mouth hovering so close above mine that I can feel the words form.
I’m not quite sure what sound I make, if it is an affirmative hum or a plaintive sigh, but what I do know is that the second I do, Julian rushes to indulge me.
There’s an inelegance to this kiss, a clash of tongues that makes me feel like I am being consumed, and my world narrows to the scratch of his stubble against my chin, the iron, inescapable press of his fist in my hair.
He isn’t touching me, not really, there’s too much in the way, IV lines and side rails, but the surging heat of his body courses the short distance between us and floods me with warmth.
His free hand shifts to my jaw, squeezes, and I pop open to his command like a burst plum.
This man, I know, will be the death of me.
Under his grasp, I forget everything—that I might be getting him sick again, that we are in an emergency room with nothing but curtains for privacy, that we could be interrupted at any moment.
It’s the duality of his control, I think, how quickly he vacillates from a restrained Dr. Jekyll to a ravenous Mr. Hyde, that carries me beyond reason.
When he moans into my mouth, my sole thought is how I can get him closer, how I can maneuver my body around in this narrow gurney to press it against his.
I don’t wonder about whether the neighboring patient will hear us.
I certainly don’t ask myself why that succession of beeps is getting louder—
“Is everything okay in—oh, come on, guys.”
Mortified, I tear away from Julian and turn to find Deb, my nurse, looking disapprovingly down at us.
My ears pop, and suddenly the beeping that had seemed distant is blaring loud; it takes me a second to realize it is my monitor, reporting to everyone in the emergency department that my heart is hammering away at a hundred and twenty beats per minute.
I’ve been on the other end of this exact situation before—running in to rescue a patient from a suspiciously elevated heart rate that turns out to be a much needed, erm, release.
Those stories always make the rounds in a unit, and I know the one Julian and I just made will be juicy: a local cardiologist getting frisky in the emergency department with her hot young thing.
Julian, for his part, seems unbothered. He unfurls himself slowly, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Sorry,” he says casually, as if he’d been caught poking around the supply closet and not making out with her patient.
“Well, I guess that’s as good a sign as any that you’re ready for discharge,” Deb says. Then she jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “All right, Romeo. Out.”
She watches Julian like a hawk as he grabs his blazer from where it’s draped across his chair, tosses it over his shoulder, and ambles out of the room. The second he’s out of sight, Deb’s mouth screws up in amusement.
“Now, I know you know that wasn’t appropriate,” she says. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.”
The laughter that bursts from my chest is mostly relief.
Deb is the kind of old-school nurse who reminds me of my aunties, steady and stern and commanding respect, and I’m glad that I haven’t disappointed her.
When she rounds my bed to remove my IV, I hoist myself up until my legs dangle off the edge.
“Yeah…” I say. “I, um, don’t normally do things like that. Sorry.”
Deb waves me off with one hand and peels away my bandage with the other.
“You don’t feel well,” she says. “Sometimes a little nooky is just the thing to get your mind off the fact that life is throwing you a curveball. And besides,” she adds with a wink, “if my husband looked like that, I wouldn’t keep my hands off him either.”
“I know,” I say with a snort. “It’s obscene.” And annoying, I want to add, remembering the howling rage I’d felt when he’d touched Melody, how a part of me had wanted to tear her face off. Does weird things to your brain.
“But you know, it’s not just the looks. Those don’t matter much, in the grand scheme of things,” Deb continues. “What does matter is that he seems very attentive. Kind of pushy, if I’m honest.”
I don’t know what to say to that last part, so I settle for a nervous laugh and a bewildered, “Really?”
“You should have seen him. Badgering poor Dr. Liederman into writing you a work note and stalking all of us for more warm blankets.” When I wince, she pats my arm affectionately.
“It’s a good thing, you know. It’s hard to find someone who truly values you.
” She turns off the pump that has delivered two liters of saline into my vein, then smiles at me.
“All right, you’re all set. Now get dressed and get out of my ED before you all get up to anything else. ”
I thank her, take my discharge papers, and prepare myself for what the day has left to offer.
With my newfound energy, I’m able to change into my clothes in record time.
When I push open the curtain, Julian is on the other side leaning against the nurse’s station, eyes closed and arms folded.
His eyes open slowly, like he’s waking from sleep, before zeroing in on me.
I swallow against a dry throat.
“Fine,” I say. “You can drive me to the recital tonight. And I’ll stay in bed all day before.”
By the smug expression on his face, this is a battle that he knew he would win.
“Can I also walk Onix? Maybe even make you a little chicken noodle soup? Hand feed you grapes while you convalesce?” he ribs.
I nudge him in the side as I zip up my coat.
“Don’t push it.”