Chapter 26 #2
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says, still panting. “It’s your mother, ma’am. She said she wasn’t feeling well to Mrs. O’Brien a little while ago, and went upstairs to lie down. Mrs. O’Brien went to take her some tea, and she found her unconscious…”
As soon as he says the last word, I’m already running toward the house. I hear Ronan on my heels, but I don’t stop to look. The world feels as if it’s tilting sideways, my heart racing with panic as I run for the manor, desperate to see her.
“—called an ambulance already—” I hear Johnny say behind me, but I don’t look back. I burst in through the side doors and head for the stairs, where I find paramedics already surrounding her. Mrs. O’Brien is standing just outside the door, her face creased with worry.
“I called her doctors straightaway, ma’am, sir,” she says, looking at Ronan and me. “They’re airlifting her to the hospital in Dublin. They seem to think it’s quite serious—”
Her eyes well up, and I swallow hard, feeling as if I can’t breathe. The paramedics start to move toward the door with her, and I back up out of their way, staring at my mom’s still form as they wheel her out and toward the stairs to take her to the helicopter.
"No." The word tears out of me. "No, she was fine this morning. She was getting better, the treatments were working—"
"Leila." Ronan's hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him. "Breathe. We'll figure this out."
“I need to go with her. I need—”
“There’s nothing you can do there. Listen to me.
” Ronan holds my gaze, and I can see the pleading in his face.
“It’s not safe for you to sit and wait at a hospital.
You’re safer here. I can send security with your mother, and make sure we’re protected here as well.
Anything that happens, they’ll call. And if it gets to the point that—” He takes a breath.
“If something happens that you need to be there, I’ll make sure we get you there immediately. By air, if need be.”
“I should have realized she was getting worse,” I sob. “She’s been so tired. I thought she was just giving us space because she likes you so much and thinks we should make this work, but—”
There’s a flicker of something on Ronan’s face at that, but it vanishes as he wraps his arms around me. "Stop." He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a shield. "This isn't your fault. This isn't anyone's fault."
In the back of my head, I want to tell him that the way he feels about me right now is the way I feel about him and what happened to Siobhan.
That if he thinks this isn’t my fault, that I shouldn’t have paid more attention to how my mom was feeling and gotten her back to the doctor sooner, then what happened to his first wife isn’t his fault, either.
But there’s not enough space in my mind to formulate that right now, and I don’t think I could speak anyway.
I feel as if I’m on the verge of breaking down completely, and as Ronan’s arms tighten around me, I feel the floodgates crash open.
I bury my face against his chest, sobbing as all the fear and confusion and anxiety of the past days tear through me, pouring out of me in wracking sobs that soak the front of his shirt. He holds me through it, murmuring reassurances I can't quite make out over the sound of my own grief.
Without saying a word, he steers me down the hall and to our bedroom. He gets me to the bed, sitting me down, and then steps back, reaching for his phone as he keeps one eye on me. I reach for a box of tissues next to the bed, unable to stop crying long enough for them to even really matter.
A moment later, Ronan is on the phone with someone, his voice sharp and commanding.
"I don't care what it costs," he's saying. "I want the best oncologist in Dublin on her case, and I want her in a private room at St. Vincent’s tonight. Yes, tonight. Make it happen."
I drop my hands to my lap, staring at him. “What’s going on?”
He covers the phone with his hand. "I’m getting your mother the best care possible. She'll be moved to a private wing with round-the-clock nursing. The best doctors, the best treatments."
"Ronan, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." His eyes are fierce, determined. "I can't let you go to her, but I can make sure she has the best care. Better than she has been, if that’s possible. Just let me handle it, Leila. Please.”
In that moment, watching him try to fix this to the best of his ability, pulling every string to take care of my mom, taking care of me, all I can think is I love him. I love this man, who, despite what he is, is somehow the kindest and most generous person I’ve ever known.
I’m emotional, I think dimly. I’m not thinking straight.
“Why have you done all of this?” I ask suddenly, when he’s finished and hangs up the phone.
“Really, why? We’ve cost you so much money and time, and trouble.
Your relationship with your father has suffered; Rocco’s attacks have gotten worse.
You could have taken him out sooner if not for me.
I’ve upended your life, and now you’re having a child with me that you didn’t ask for, and you’ve never gotten angry with me.
You’ve never acted like it was my fault or like we’re a burden to you. ”
He’s quiet for a long moment before he sets down the phone and crosses the room to me, kneeling down in front of me so that we’re eye level. He reaches out, brushing a thumb beneath my eye, and tips my chin up so that I’m looking at him.
“I told you why I didn’t leave you, Leila.
And I helped you and your mother because I didn’t want to see you hurt.
I didn’t want to see you afraid when I could fix it.
And I wanted you to be able to accept my protection without being afraid for your mother.
And then—” He takes a breath. “The truth is, Leila, the longer you’ve been here, the more I can’t imagine the day when you’re not.
I spent years thinking that I could live without companionship and desire and laughter and conversation, and now I don’t know how I ever lived that way.
And I’m dreading the day that you leave.
But because I—” He breaks off, swallowing hard.
“I can’t ask you to commit yourself to a life you never asked for just because of how having you with me has made me feel.
And I’m willing to make sure I keep you and our child safe no matter what we are to each other, so that you can live whatever life you want. ”
I stare at him, trying to absorb everything he’s just said. It's not quite a declaration of love, but it's close. Close enough to make my heart race and break at the same time.
But I can’t focus long enough to think about it—to decide how it makes me feel or what I want to say. And I know right now is the wrong time to say anything that could change the trajectory of my life with or without Ronan.
“I need my mom,” I whisper. “I want to be with her right now. She’s going to wake up and be scared; she needs someone with her—”
"I know. And when this is over, when Rocco is no longer a threat, you will—or when she can come back home, whichever is sooner. But right now, the safest thing for everyone is for you to stay here while she gets the best care money can buy."
I nod, because I know he's right, even though it feels like I'm abandoning her.
“Come downstairs with me,” Ronan says after a moment. “I’m going to make some more calls. Mrs. O’Brien will get you tea, and I’ll make a fire, and we’ll wait for news.
I nod, reaching for another tissue. “Okay,” I whisper weakly, and Ronan helps me up, leading me downstairs to the sitting room.
He doesn’t leave my side for hours as he makes calls and we drink tea and wait for updates on my mom’s condition. He doesn't try to distract me with empty reassurances or false hope. He just stays, solid and warm and there, letting me fall apart when I need to.
It’s after midnight when we get a call from the hospital. “She’s still not able to talk on the phone yet,” Ronan tells me. “But she’s stable. They’re starting an aggressive treatment, and she’s responding well to what they’ve done so far.”
I nod, fresh tears welling in my eyes as he sits down and puts an arm around me. "Thank you. For all of this."
He leans over, kissing me gently on the temple. "You don't need to thank me."
“This isn’t your responsibility—”
“This became my responsibility the moment I married you." His lips brush the top of my head. "And it’ll be my responsibility for as long as you need it to.”
My breath catches at the implication—that he wants me to stay, that I could stay, that we could try to make this work, together. But my chest feels tight, thinking of the danger that comes with it. The future where his world will always be a violent place for me and our child to exist in.
Can I have him and be safe? I wonder, as I lean into his warmth. Can I have love and safety here, with him?
“You were supposed to leave tonight.” I sniff, dragging a hand over my eyes, and he shakes his head.
“I’m not going anywhere until the morning. I’m not going to leave you tonight, while things are like this.”
And as he says it, I can’t help but wish that in that case, morning wouldn’t come.
That we could stay like this, without having to make a choice yet, for longer than the few hours left to us.