Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
NICHOLAS
The last ten days have sped by, and the morning of Victoria’s surgery arrives long before I’m ready. A decade could’ve passed, and I still wouldn’t be ready. I’ve grilled the surgeon on several occasions, hammering at him until he’s answered every question to my satisfaction, but even knowledge hasn’t helped calm my nerves. He can tell me until his last breath that for the donor, this is, in his words, a safe and relatively painless surgery that he’s performed many times before.
His reassurances offer me none.
If things don’t go well, he will take his last breath, I’ll make fucking sure of it.
Last night, I tossed and turned, and I know Victoria did, too. As weak winter sunlight breaks through the curtains, I roll onto my side and wrap my arms around her. She clings to me, and without a word passing between us, I know she’s terrified of what’s to come.
She isn’t the only one, but I can’t let her see the extent of the fear eating me up inside. She needs me to be the strong one, the towering support, not just today, but over the coming weeks as she navigates her recovery.
As much as my family wants to support us both, I’ve told them not to come to the hospital today, or come to see us off as though we are going on holiday. It’ll be bad enough having to sit with Victoria’s parents and maintain some level of composure without my clan crowded around me, watching me like a hawk for signs of me losing control.
My relationship with Laura and Phillip has been strained ever since I barred them from coming to Oakleigh, and although I lifted the ban once Victoria made her decision, I can’t say I’m son-in-law of the year in their eyes.
Not that I give a single shit about that. They’re not exactly in-laws of the year, either. Her mother may have tried to make amends, but it’ll take more than a few platitudes and “we love yous,” for them to ingratiate themselves with me.
Penny yips from her bed at the foot of ours. I toss back the covers and pick the little fluffball up before handing her to Victoria, who cradles her close to her chest and kisses the top of her head.
“You’ll miss Mumma, won’t you, pups? But don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.”
My chest tightens, and I have to look away before Victoria sees the anxiety plastered all over my face. I’ve never wished my life away before, but I’d give anything for the next few days to be over and for my wife to be back at home with me where she belongs.
In solidarity with Victoria, who’s nil by mouth, I skip breakfast. Not sure I could keep it down anyway. The constant churning in my stomach won’t quit, but as Sol takes Victoria’s bag to the car, I force a confident smile and slide my arm around her shoulders.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
I catch Christian standing in the window. He raises a hand, and I nod in acknowledgment. As if worrying about Victoria isn’t taking every ounce of brainpower, I’m concerned about my brother, now, too. He hasn’t been himself since the building collapse, and having the Health and Safety Executive crawling over him every five minutes isn’t helpful, either. When fatalities are involved, even our membership of The Consortium doesn’t give us a free pass to an easy ride. Uncle George has done what he can to blunt the rough edges, but it’s a process, and unfortunately for Christian, he has to go through it. They won’t bring charges—they wouldn’t dare—but knowing that still doesn’t make it easy for him.
I’ve tried to support him as much as I can, and Xan has, too, but Christian has the De Vil stubborn gene. He wants to deal with it himself.
“My business, my responsibility” is his mantra every time he’s offered help.
Victoria grows paler the closer we get to the hospital, but she squares her shoulders and takes several deep breaths, shooting me the odd wavering smile. I hate how powerless I am to help her. If I had my way, I’d redirect Sol to the airport and whisk her away somewhere warm. Somewhere I could keep her safe.
Elizabeth had better spend the rest of her days licking her sister’s shoes. Since she reappeared in our lives, we’ve barely exchanged a word, mainly because I don’t trust myself around her. Every time I hear her voice, I’m engulfed by this urge to put my hands around her throat and strangle her. I don’t have it in me to offer forgiveness, even though Victoria appears to have done so. Guess it’s different for her, but for me, I’ll carry that grudge to my grave.
We reach the hospital a few minutes before ten. As we exit the car, Victoria groans.
“I told you not to come,” she says when Eloise and Briony stride forward.
“Bitch, please,” Eloise says. “We won’t stay, but we at least had to come and do this.”
Both of them wrap their arms around my wife. Stupidly, I’m jealous. I want to be the one comforting her, the one she turns to for support. I hover a few feet away while the group hug continues. After almost a minute, the triangle breaks apart.
“I should go.” Victoria hooks her thumb toward the hospital entrance. “Nicholas will message you when I’m out of surgery, won’t you?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“We’ll be waiting for your text.” There’s another swift hug, and my wife’s two closest friends walk away, glancing several times over their shoulders and waving.
After they vanish around the corner at the end of the street, Victoria takes a deep breath and enters the hospital.
I touch her lower back as she pushes open the door to the waiting room. Her muscles tremble beneath my hand, a sign of her nerves. Laura and Phillip are there, but there’s no sign of Elizabeth. Laura’s complexion is pale and waxy, and Phillip is holding his stomach and pitched slightly forward.
I know the fucking feeling.
“Where’s Beth?” Victoria’s voice quivers, and another violent urge to throw her over my shoulder and take her somewhere no one will ever find us floods through me.
“She’s on her way. Joel is parking the car.”
Oh, this should be interesting. I haven’t reconnected with the infamous Joel yet.
“Don’t,” Victoria whispers. “Be good.” Her lips twitch, and I grin down at her. She knows me so well, and I love it. I’m a closed book to most people, apart from my family… and now my wife.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t have to.” She rests her head on my upper arm. “He’s nervous about meeting you.”
“As he should be.”
She tsks, but her eyes are twinkling. The chance to enjoy a little levity before my heart gets ripped out along with her kidney is more than welcome.
It’s a few minutes later when Elizabeth enters the waiting room followed by the man Victoria and I followed from that café in Windsor. Elizabeth ignores me, hugging first Victoria and then her parents.
Joel shuffles from foot to foot, tossing me a: “Hey, man.”
“It’s Nicholas.” In an unusual move, I take pity on him and hold out my hand. He pauses, then shakes it.
“Sorry about, you know, lying to you and all.”
“It’s not your apology to make.” I stare pointedly at Elizabeth. She meets my gaze, defiant, the mousy, submissive woman I thought I knew nowhere in sight.
“You married the right sister in the end, Nicholas,” Elizabeth says.
My lips thin. “Oh, I fucking know I did.”
Her courage falters the longer I glare at her, and her shoulders curve. “I have apologized.”
“Not to me.”
“Nicholas.” Victoria rests a hand on my arm, her touch usually soothing, but I’m too edgy to gain any comfort from it. “None of us need the stress right now.”
“I’m sorry, Nicholas. Okay?” Elizabeth lets out a slow sigh and stares at her feet. “I’m sorry for lying to you, and for what I did. I should have found another way.”
“Yes, you should.”
“You’ve said your piece.” Joel finally finds some balls to defend his woman. I’d have stepped in long ago if he’d spoken to Victoria like that. Although his blooming red face takes the sting out of his words. He mustn’t be well versed in conflict.
Unlike me.
“Haven’t even started.”
Before the argument can escalate further, two surgeons enter the room—one for Victoria, one for Elizabeth. My empty stomach heaves at the sight.
This is it.
I encircle Victoria’s waist and pull her close to me. “I’ll be right by your bedside when you wake up, okay?” It’s not what I want to say, but for some ungodly reason, the words I do want to say stick to my throat like superglue.
She nods, her skin pale and clammy.
We file out of the room and up a single flight of stairs to where the operating theaters and private rooms are located. Elizabeth is taken to one room, and of course, Laura and Phillip go with her, as well as Joel. How I manage to keep my mouth shut remains a fucking mystery, especially when Victoria’s face crumples, her eyes tracking her parents’ retreating backs.
I keep hold of her hand even when she’s prepped for surgery, even when the anesthetist visits to ask if she has any final questions, even when the orderly arrives to take her to the operating room. I walk alongside the stretcher until we reach the point where I’m not allowed to go any farther.
“Nicholas, I?—”
I squeeze her hand. “What, Half-pint?”
Reaching up, she presses her palm to my cheek. “Never mind, it’ll wait.”
Seconds later, she’s gone.
I sink onto a chair and let my head fall into my waiting hands, thrusting my fingers into my hair.
Sometime later, footsteps sound, getting closer. Whoever it is stops, expels a deep sigh, and sits next to me.
“Nicholas.” Laura touches my back. I jerk upright, and her hand falls away. “How was she?”
Astounded, I snort. “If you’d come to see her, you’d know the answer to that, wouldn’t you? But, once again, you favor Elizabeth. You’re so fucking obvious, Laura.”
“That’s not true. I came to her room once I got Elizabeth settled, but it was empty.”
My glare is hateful enough that she flinches. “Did it occur to you to maybe split the parental responsibilities? You know, Phillip with one daughter and you with the other?”
She bites her lip. “It’s a stressful time. We’re not thinking straight.”
“Screw you, Laura.” I erupt from my seat. “I need fresh air.”
“Nicholas,” she calls out in a plaintive voice, but I’m beyond listening. I sprint down the stairs and emerge into a biting wind and fine drizzle. Lifting my face to the sky, I close my eyes and take several deep breaths.
“The waiting is the worst, isn’t it?”
I sigh and meet my father-in-law’s gaze. “What do you want, Phillip?”
“For both my daughters to make it through this operation. For us to find a way through and improve our relationship.”
I look away. “If by ‘us’, you mean you and me, this isn’t the time. I’m in no mood to be tactful, nor consider your feelings.”
“I understand.” He lights a cigarette, blowing plumes of smoke into the air. “I haven’t smoked in years. Bummed one off the receptionist.”
The response on the tip of my tongue is a curt, “And?” Instead, I say nothing.
The rain stops, and the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, but a second later, it’s gone again. Pivoting, I head back inside. Phillip follows me like a leech I can’t shake. It’s clear Laura told him what I said to her, and if this is his way of trying to atone, he’s doing a shitty job of it. On the way back to the waiting area outside the operating theater, I pour myself a coffee. It tastes like ashes, but the caffeine hit is welcome.
Two to three hours the surgeon said. When the clock ticks past the third hour and rolls into the fourth, my worry increases tenfold. Something’s wrong. I feel it. I know it. Like a sixth sense, intuition stabs at me, and my abdomen dips and rises. Pacing doesn’t calm me. Sitting doesn’t calm me. Raking my hands through my hair and pulling it out by the roots doesn’t calm me. Phillip sticks around while Laura disappears to wait outside the theater they’ve taken Elizabeth to.
If Victoria doesn’t make it through, I’ll burn this place to the ground. I’ll burn the fucking world to the ground.
Another thirty minutes pass, and I’m this fucking close to bursting through the operating room doors and demanding to know what the fuck is going on when they open, and Victoria’s surgeon emerges.
“What’s happening?” I stuff my hands in my pockets in case they close around his neck and choke the information out of him.
“Mrs. De Vil has come through the surgery well. She’s in recovery.”
My knees buckle, and I plant a hand on the wall to steady myself.
“Thank God,” Phillip whispers.
The surgeon pats me on the upper shoulder. “I’ll have a nurse come and take you to her shortly.”
“Why the delay? You said two to three hours. It’s almost four.”
“Two to three is average, but every patient is different. There was a small complication that took a little more time to fix.”
My heart lands at my feet. “What kind of complication?”
“Mrs. De Vil suffered a small internal bleed. We stopped the bleeding and transfused her.” Another pat. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”
Small bleed? Transfusion? None of this was mentioned in any of the consultations as a possibility. “But she’s okay?”
“She’s perfectly well. A little groggy from the anesthetic, but that’s all.”
He retreats through the swing doors. I share a look with Phillip. He makes a move, almost as if he might hug me, then thinks better of it.
“She’s tough, our Vicky.”
“She shouldn’t have had to be,” I growl.
Phillip clears his throat. “I should…” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “I should let Laura know and check on Beth.”
“You do that.” I turn my back on him. When I’m sure he’s gone, I sit down and let the relief come.
It’s over.
* * *
Victoria’s complexion is ashen beneath the harsh, fluorescent lights, but the smile she gives me raises one of my own. I pull up a chair and take her hand, careful to avoid knocking the needle in her arm that’s attached to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal pole.
“Hey, Half-pint.” I lift her hand and kiss it. “Need anything?”
“Just you,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering shut. “Tired.”
I shoot a questioning look at the nurse.
“It’s normal,” she says. “Mrs. De Vil still has anesthetic in her bloodstream.”
Nodding, I return my attention to Victoria. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She mumbles something, but it’s incoherent. I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking deep breaths. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I type a message in our family group chat letting them know Victoria came through the operation, send another to Eloise and Briony, then immediately silence my phone to stop the buzz of the replies waking her up.
Sometime later, Laura and Phillip poke their head around the door. I’ve more than half a mind to tell them both to fuck off. Instead, I somehow hold my tongue as they inch inside.
“How is she?” Laura asks, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed.
“Tired. Don’t wake her.”
“We won’t.” Phillip stands behind Laura, his hands pressing down on her shoulders. “Beth came through the surgery. She’s sleeping, too.”
“Right.” I don’t have it in me to offer anything more, and they don’t look for more, either.
The three of us sit in awkward silence. Awkward for them, that is, given the amount of shifting Laura’s doing in her chair. If she expects me to make polite conversation, she’s in for disappointment. My eyes don’t leave Victoria’s face, watching for the slightest sign she’s waking up.
An hour later, she does. Her lids flutter, and she makes this adorable keening sound like she’s having the best morning stretch. To avoid her having to move her head to see me, I stand and move into her sightline.
“Hey.” I caress her cheek with the back of my hand. “Feel better?”
“A bit. Sore.”
“You will be. Just take it easy.”
“Hello, darling.” Laura stands, too, tucking a lock of hair behind Victoria’s ear. “Do you need anything?”
“Drink.” She licks her lips. “Thirsty.”
“I’ll get it.” I pour a glass of water from a jug and stick a straw in it. “Here.” I hold the straw to her lips and support her head. She takes a few sips, then flops back onto the bed.
“I’m weak as a kitten.”
“Early days.” I put the glass on the small table beside her bed.
“How’s Beth?”
“She’s fine, darling.” Laura leans over and kisses her forehead. “She’s fast asleep.”
“It went okay, then?”
“Perfectly. The surgeon said it was textbook.”
Unlike yours, I almost blurt.
“Oh, that’s good. You should be with her when she wakes up.”
I glare at Laura, daring her to leave. Whatever Victoria says, it’s about time her mother gave her priority.
“Joel is with her. We thought we’d sit with you for a while.”
My wife’s smile is tinged with gratitude that simultaneously breaks my fucking heart and makes me want to smash things. Gratitude because, for once, her mother hasn’t pushed her aside in favor of the younger sibling. I’m itching to punch the wall.
“Okay.” She winces as she turns to me. “You should get some sleep. You didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m going nowhere. I arranged to have a bed put up in here a few days ago.” Against policy , the registrar told me when I insisted. Don’t give a bloody toss was my reply. Recognizing an entrenched husband when she saw one, she conceded.
“Nicholas, no. You need a proper night’s sleep.”
“And I’ll get one. Right here with you.”
Her jaw flexes, but I know my wife well enough by this point to tell she’s comforted and reassured by my continued presence.
She sleeps on and off throughout the day, and as the evening closes in, Laura and Phillip leave to go check on Elizabeth. I’m glad they’ve gone. I’m sick of Laura’s continuous pleading glances. If she wants to make things right, she’ll show me Victoria is a priority for more than a couple of days. Try a few years and then we’ll see. Whether it’s instinct or skepticism, I’m not buying what she’s selling.
That night, as I lay down on the rollaway bed, with my feet sticking out the end, and Victoria’s quiet breathing next to me, I close my eyes and drift off.
* * *
“Nicholas.”
Victoria whispering my name wakes me from a restless sleep. I’m out of bed a second later. “You okay?”
“I don’t feel well.” A shudder runs through her. “I’m freezing.”
I place my hand on her forehead. She’s burning up.
“You’re okay,” I lie, stabbing the button above the bed to call the nurse. “I’ve got you.”
Several seconds later, a nurse arrives. I repeat what Victoria’s told me, desperately trying to squash the ball of anxiety rooted in my stomach. I’ve lived my entire life relying on intuition to guide me, and it’s blasting me right now. Something’s wrong. I feel it in my gut.
She takes Victoria’s pulse and her temperature, then fastens on a blood pressure cuff. I’m no medic, but a systolic of less than one hundred is not good.
“What’s wrong with her?” Even I can hear the terror in my voice, and I curse when Victoria stares at me with wide eyes.
“Nicholas?” Her voice is weak, like it’s too much effort to talk.
God, please, don’t let me lose her. I… I can’t.
I brush damp hair off her forehead. “It’s okay, Half-pint.” My stomach plummets as I lock eyes with the nurse. Without saying a word, she whips around and almost runs from the room. Ten seconds later, three doctors enter, as well as a different nurse. I’m pushed out of the way, my view blocked by a wall of medics.
“What’s the matter?” Panic claws at my throat. I try to muscle my way in, but one of the doctors places his hand on my chest and pushes me back.
“Mr. De Vil, give us room.”
Helpless. I’m fucking helpless.
I rake my hands through my hair. Breaths saw in and out of my chest. Victoria isn’t talking to me now. Everything’s moving too fast. Too fast. I stumble backward. My spine hits the wall, my knees trembling. Orders are hollered, hospital staff run around like there’s a fire at their heels. I know panic when I see it, and there isn’t a single person in this room who isn’t in a flat spin.
“More,” one of the doctors barks. “Squeeze the bag. I need to get this into her, fast.”
I pace, desperate to catch a glimpse of her, but more people arrive, jostling for position.
I don’t need a doctor to tell me what’s going on. I already know.
I’m losing her.