Chapter 27
Aubergine.
Nicola and I stood side by side as the paramedics wheeled Dad into the ambulance.
“We’re heading to St. Catherine’s,” one of them called as he climbed in after the gurney. “We’ll meet you there.”
I could only nod. The ambulance doors slammed shut.
The sirens hadn’t even started before Nicola’s hand settled gently against the small of my back, guiding me toward his car.
I made it as far as the passenger door before my body gave out. My hands started shaking. Then my arms.
Within seconds, violent tremors ripped through me as every possible outcome crashed into my mind.
“What if he’s brain dead?” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. “What if...”
I couldn’t catch my breath. “What if he’s already gone by the time we get there?”
Nicola's arms wrapped around me so naturally that I didn’t even think about resisting. I buried my face against his chest.
His familiar cologne. The faint scent of cigarettes. The warmth I’d spent a week trying to convince myself I didn’t miss.
Everything grounded me.
I sobbed into his jacket.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into my ear.
“You don’t know that, Nicky, you don't know what's going to happen.” My fingers twisted into his jacket lapel. “You don’t know—”
“I don’t.” His hand rubbed slow circles across my back. “But whatever happens inside that hospital, you won’t be alone.”
That cracked me wide fucking open. I cried even harder.
Nicola’s version of speeding was nothing like Thomas’s.
Thomas drove like he was playing Russian Roulette with the road. Nicola drove like he was playing chess. Every lane change was deliberate. Every risk was calculated.
I preferred Nicola’s version. Much, much more.
I’d have to tell him that later.
We found a spot in a parking garage connected directly to the hospital. The second we climbed out of the Mercedes, my hand found his without thinking.
He looked down, just for a second. Then laced his fingers through mine.
We walked through the sliding glass doors together.
“The heart attack was relatively minor.” The emergency physician folded his hands together.
“But–” The word immediately crushed whatever tiny piece of hope bloomed in me. “He was on the floor for an unknown amount of time. We’ve sedated him for now to let his heart rest. We’ll know much more after we’ve finished the scans and the last of the tests.”
“When...” I swallowed, my throat was hoarse from crying. “When can I see him?”
“Soon.” He offered a reassuring smile. “As soon as we’re finished.”
The door clicked shut behind him. I kept staring at it, waiting expectantly for something else to happen.
Nicola’s hand found my arm. “Come sit down.”
“I can’t.” My voice cracked. “I should be doing something.”
“No, Aubergine.” His thumb rubbed over my forearm. “You aren’t supposed to do anything.”
His voice turned whisper soft. “Come here.”
I folded into him. My face buried against his shoulder before I could think better of it. The tears came again and ripped through me like a violent storm.
By the end, I was hiccuping, sniffling loudly and my eyes hurt.
“I think I ruined your shirt," I rasped. "I owe you a new one."
His lips brushed lightly against my hair. “And a Lamborghini.”
A watery laugh escaped me, then I sobered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll just buy another shirt. Just like I bought another lambo. The black was more my style than the blue one, anyway.”
He was trying to make me laugh more and I almost did. “No, I mean… I’m sorry I roped you into this.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I believed him. That realization surprised me almost as much as the words themselves.
“Is there anyone I should call? Did your Dad have siblings?”
I thought for a second. “My uncle lives in Albany. But I… don’t have his number. I think its in Dad's phone."
“Okay. Easy fix.” His thumbs were already moving on his phone screen. “I’ll have Gio pick it up.”
Administrative paperwork turned out to be the world’s slowest form of torture.
The woman beside me kept explaining forms while pretending not to stare across the waiting room. At Nicola.
He stood near the windows and faced them while quietly speaking into his phone. His free hand rested inside his pocket, and you could practically feel the power radiate off him.
When we received separate, brief updates about Dad's condition from nurses, they came coupled up. Every single one smiled at him.
Of course they did.
The administrator was no different. She looked up just as he ended the call and their eyes met.
He offered a polite, absentminded smile before looking back toward me. She looked down and the tops of her cheeks were turning pink.
I clicked my pen closed. Loudly.
“There.” I shoved the clipboard toward her. “All finished.”
She jumped slightly. “Great. Thank you. I’ll go check whether there’s any update,” she said to Nicola, not me.
I waited for the door to close before I crossed my arms. “Unbelievable.”
“What is?”
“This.” I gestured vaguely around the hospital. “People practically falling over themselves for you."
“What are you talking about?”
I rubbed my forehead and glanced down at myself. It was unfortunate that I looked like a used washrag right now and he was impeccable as always.
“Nevermind. My brain is mush right now.”
He crossed the room and sat beside me. His arm settled comfortably around my shoulders.
“Would coffee help?” he asked as our foreheads touched. I shut my eyes and enjoyed his warm voice dancing in my ears.
“No."
“How about a Happy Meal?”
I snorted, then laughed. “No. Don’t send poor Gio out to get me a kids meal.”
I turned into him and rested my cheek against his chest. “I just need this.”
His chin rested lightly against the top of my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “What if your empire starts falling apart because you’re sitting here with me?”
He shifted uncomfortably against me.
“Listen. It... may be possible…" He made a strained sound in his throat. "I may have overreacted last week. Overcorrected. A little.”
"A little." I reeled back and looked up at him, appalled. “That’s it, Nicola? That's all you're going to say?”
He looked indignant, wide-eyed. ”What? I’m admitting I was wrong!”
"Oh my God. You are genuinely fucking terrible at apologies.”
He bit into his lower lip, glancing away.
I studied him, almost amused by how troubled he looked. "Well... it's not always about words. But just so we're crystal clear, you really fucking suck at them."
His eyes snapped back to me. "Wow. Thank you, Aubergine."
I scooted forward and moved back into his arms. “People can apologize and say a lot of pretty things until they’re blue in the face. But in the end, it’s about their actions. Following through."
My eyes shut again when his arms circled me. I felt his hand take a fistful of hair as his nose nuzzled the side of my head.
After a time, I added softly, “And I saw you trying, Nicola."
He didn't reply. I don't think he knew how.
I drifted off at some point.
The soft click of the waiting room door pulled me awake.
I lifted my head from the firm seat cushion I had used as a makeshift bed.
A different doctor stood there, and Nicola was just behind him.
“Hi. I was speaking with your husband outside regarding your father,” the doctor said, glancing down at his chart. “We’ve finished all the initial testing.”
I blinked. Husband? Strangely, Nicola didn’t seem fazed by the word.
“It was a relatively minor cardiac infarction.” He looked back up to me. “For now, we’re keeping your father sedated. Given what his body’s gone through, the recent chemo– it’s put a huge strain on him. It’s unfortunately not uncommon for these things to happen one after another.”
My stomach twisted. “Is he...” I couldn’t finish the question.
“Critical.” The doctor nodded. “But stable.”
The knot in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe again. “Can I see him?”
“Of course.” He hesitated before looking toward Nicola. “During our chat in the hallway, your husband said he was concerned about you. I think it would be wise if you went home afterward and took care of yourself, too. Get some sleep. Eat. Take a shower.”
"But... what if something happens?"
"We'll call if it does. And when you come back, we should have a better idea of his condition and treatment plan."
“Okay. Thank you, Doctor.” I sounded like a robot. We both watched him leave, then my eyes slid over to Nicola.
"Just how long was I asleep for if we're married, now?"
He smiled and shrugged. "He assumed, I didn't correct him. Come on."
It was a nightmare to physically see Dad’s life hanging in the balance. His body was dwarfed by machines and tubes.
I approached his bedside slowly. He looked so fragile... I was almost afraid to even touch him.
"Dad?" I whispered.
Carefully, I wrapped both hands around one of his, avoiding the IV line.
“Come on. We just had one more hurdle, remember? The last chemo treatment." My voice cracked immediately. "That was supposed to be it. You’re messing with our plan.”
I laughed weakly and then it turned watery.
“I know you’re tired. I know.” I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “But, please. Please don’t leave me now.”
I stared down at him. No answer came, only the quiet beep of monitors.
Only a moment later, a nurse pushed a machine through the doorway, and looked surprised to see me.
"Oh, I’m sorry.” She offered an apologetic smile. “I need to check a few things.”
“Of course. I'll get out of your way.” I squeezed Dad’s hand one last time, smoothed some of his hair. “I’ll be back. I love you.”
I stepped away on shaky legs as my eyes began to fill with tears again. The door opened for me, and I was relieved to see Nicola waiting for me on the other side.
He stayed. That thought permeated everything else as we drove back to the estate.
He stayed through the entire night.
Not because I asked. Because he’d chosen to.
I held Nicola's hand on the short journey from the garage to the front of the estate. One of the staff opened the doors for us.
While crossing the foyer, I felt him hesitate. His body subtly had angled toward the hallway leading to the study where he was sleeping.
He was already retreating, already preparing to disappear back into work.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said. His hand started slipping from mine. “I should—”
I caught it, and his words halted. He turned back toward me with a pinched brow.
My mouth opened. Guilt slammed into me and I shut it. I spent my entire life trying to make everything easier for everyone else.
Be helpful. Don’t make waves. Take care of people.
Even now, I wanted to tell him to go and not worry about me. But that wasn't what I wanted. I had to help him, help me. I had to be upfront. Selfish, even.
“I need you.” I forced out the words around the lump in my throat. “Please don’t leave me, too.”