Chapter 57
FIFTY SEVEN
“READY, LOVE?” MATTHEW asks, walking into the foyer, his car keys in hand.
He stops, his eyes doing a slow, appreciative sweep of my simple black V-neck sweater and jeans as I slip my feet into my black leather flats.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me to him, a playful frown marring his brow. “I don’t know how I feel about you looking this good to go see your ex.”
A giggle bubbles out of me. “It’s nothing special,” I say, looping my arms around his neck.
“With you, everything is special,” he murmurs, making me beam. “You have everything you need?”
I pat the side of my purse. “Yes. The check and the key,” I confirm.
“Good.” He gives me a quick, firm kiss. “Let’s go end this.”
A comfortable peace settles over the car, but as Matthew navigates the busy morning streets towards the hospital, a knot of nerves begins to tighten in my stomach. My fingers fidget with the strap of my purse as the reality of facing James starts to set in.
Matthew’s hand reaches over and covers mine. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks, his gaze flicking between me and the road. “If this doesn’t feel right, there’s no shame in turning around. We can just mail them to him.”
I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through his, smiling gratefully at his profile. “I’m afraid this is something I need to do face to face.”
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Whatever you need,” he says, his voice full of unconditional support.
Matthew pulls into a visitor spot at St. Mary’s Hospital. When I was here on Monday, I arrived in the back of a screaming ambulance, in a blind panic. Today, I arrive in a comfortable car, holding the hand of the man who helped me put my pieces back together.
We walk through the automatic glass doors into the hushed, antiseptic atmosphere of the main lobby. Matthew’s hand rests lightly on the small of my back as we walk up to the information desk.
“I’m here to see James Devlin,” I say to the friendly receptionist.
She types into her computer. “Devlin… yes. Room 610. The elevators are down the hall on your right.”
Matthew takes my hand, pulling me closer to his side as the elevator doors slide shut and we start the ride up to the sixth floor.
“Ready?” he asks right before it stops.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter as the doors slide open onto a quiet floor.
A brightly lit nurse’s station sits directly in front of us, and a nurse in blue scrubs looks up from her computer as we approach.
“Can I help you?” she asks with a polite smile.
“We’re here to visit James Devlin.”
Her eyes flick to her screen, her smile tightening slightly. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Devlin’s visitation is restricted to family only, at his parents’ request.”
Her statement is a solid wall between me and my objective.
The lie feels heavy on my tongue, but I know it’s the only way. “I’m his fiancée.”
The nurse’s expression immediately softens with sympathy. “Oh, of course. My apologies. Go right on back. It’s the last room on the right, 610.”
“Thank you.”
When we’re halfway down the corridor, I give Matthew an apologetic look.
“You said what you had to,” he reassures me, reading my mind.
We stop at the closed door. I turn to Matthew.
“I’ll be right here, love.”
I nod in gratitude, give two light knocks, and step inside.
“Can I help you?” A woman’s voice stops me in my tracks.
The older woman rises from her chair beside James’s bed. She is impeccably dressed in a tailored tweed suit, her posture ramrod straight, her silver-grey hair perfectly coiffed. Her assessing eyes rake over my jeans and sweater with undisguised derision.
“I… sorry, I’m here to see James,” I reply, forcing my voice to remain steady.
“It’s okay, Mom. This is Amy,” James says from the bed.
He’s sitting up, dressed in a simple patient gown. He looks pale and tired, a thick white bandage wrapped around his forearm.
“We specifically requested no visitors other than family,” the woman says dismissively.
Before I can say anything, James shifts in his bed, his voice weak but firm. “I said it’s fine. Leave us, please.”
His mother’s head whips toward him, her lips pressed in a thin line of disapproval.
“She’s not a stranger. Just give us a minute,” James insists.
My cheeks flush. The humiliating truth settles over me with crushing weight.
I almost married this man, and his own mother doesn’t even know who I am.
She grabs her designer handbag and walks toward the door without another glance in my direction. The scent of her strong floral perfume lingers long after the door clicks shut.
An awkward silence fills the private hospital room. James won’t meet my gaze, his attention fixed on a loose thread on the crisp white sheet covering him. I take a few hesitant steps closer, stopping at the foot of his bed.
He looks smaller here. Stripped of his expensive suits and his arrogance.
He shifts uncomfortably, wincing, and lets out a bitter, self-pitying scoff. “Look at me,” he mutters, raising his heavily bandaged forearm. “They’ve already sent two shrinks in here to talk to me about some AA-type shit.”
I just stand there, my purse held in front of me like a shield.
The silence stretches, and I can see him growing more agitated by the second.
“So, you’re the one who found me and called 911,” he says finally, his gaze lifting to me. A faint smirk on his lips. “Could’ve just let me bleed out.” He shrugs indifferently.
“How could you even think that?” I look at him, at this broken man trying to wound me with his own self-destruction, and I feel only a great, weary sadness.
“Please, Amy. Don’t pretend you give a shit if I live or die.”
“You’re right,” I say, my voice void of emotion.
His eyes snap to my face in surprise.
“The woman who loved you is gone, James. But my humanity isn’t. No one deserves to be in the kind of pain you’re in. On the phone, you… you sounded deeply unhappy. Trapped.”
His body tenses, his mask of cynical arrogance slamming back into place. “Me? Trapped?” He lets out a sharp, incredulous huff. “Please. I’m James fucking Devlin. People would kill to have my life.”
For the first time, looking at him, I see a man desperately trying to convince himself.
I let out a sad sigh.
Some people will forever choose to stay in the prison they know.
“For what it’s worth,” I say calmly, “you deserve more than this superficial show you call a life. You don’t have to repeat your parents’ story. You don’t have to settle for a relationship like theirs. You can choose something real.”
He stares at me, his jaw tight, a storm of confusion and anger in his eyes.
“Most of the people you’re trying so hard to impress aren’t even paying attention,” I continue. “There’s no shame in changing, James. In starting over. Wanting something better for yourself.”
His cynicism creeps back. “Is that what your lawyer beau taught you?”
I hold his gaze for a moment, then let out a disappointed, humorless laugh.
Reaching into my purse, I pull out the small envelope and hold it out to him.
“What’s this?” he asks, taking it. He turns it over in his hand but doesn’t bother to open it.
“Thank you for the loan.” I give a meaningful nod toward the envelope.
“It changed my life. Truly.” I press my lips into a thin line.
“Maybe now it can change yours. It’s enough for a fresh start, James.
Far away from your family and their controlling ways.
A chance to live life on your own terms, for a change. ”
James just looks down at the envelope in his hands, a muscle in his jaw jumping violently.
“Oh.” I reach into my purse and pull out the silver key. “This is yours.” I place it on his bedside table.
His eyes drift from the key to my face. His expression is a battlefield of emotions, none of them victorious.
“Goodbye, James.” I turn and walk out, an immense weight lifting from my chest.
Back in the hallway, the first thing I see is Matthew leaning against the opposite wall, his expression a mask of tense anticipation. The second our eyes meet, the composure I fought so hard to maintain starts to break.
I can’t speak right now.
I surge forward, grab his hand, and start pulling him down the quiet corridor, my steps fast and urgent.
“Amy?” he asks, his voice full of confusion as he easily keeps pace with me.
I don’t reply. I can’t.
I just keep walking, past the nurse’s station, my focus locked on the elevator bank ahead.
We stand there waiting, and I can feel the tremors starting in my hands. My breathing becomes shallow, my chest tight. I start to gulp in air, unable to get enough.
The elevator finally arrives.
The moment the doors slide shut, Matthew turns to me, his face etched with deep concern. “Did something go wrong in there?”
The doors open onto the main floor, and I speed-walk out, past the information desk and through the glass doors, propelled by the whirlwind inside me.
“Hey, hey, slow down for a second!” Matthew calls out from right behind me.
His hands land on my shoulders, stopping my frantic escape and turning me around to face him.
I stand there on the sidewalk, my eyes darting around, welling up with tears, gasping for air that won’t come. My hand flies to my chest, pressing down on my wildly beating heart.
“I did it,” I whisper, the words a hoarse, ragged croak.
Tears of overwhelming relief start streaming down my face as I turn my gaze up to meet his. “I did it, Matt.” My voice breaks as I cover my mouth, smothering a heartfelt sob of triumph. “I’m finally free.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before a joyous, booming laugh erupts from Matthew.
A sound of unrestrained relief. He closes the distance between us in a single step, his arms wrapping around my waist. He lifts me effortlessly off my feet, spinning me around in one exuberant circle.
A shriek of surprised laughter bursts from me, mixing with my happy tears.
For a dizzying second, the world is a blur of blue sky and Matthew’s beaming face.