Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
NICHOLAS
The room’s quiet, the commotion’s died down, and it’s just Victoria, me, and a single doctor whose mouth is moving, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying over the whooshing in my ears, like river rapids after a thunderstorm.
“—rare, but we’re doing everything we can.”
I grasp the sides of my head and squeeze my eyes shut. “Say that again.”
“Your wife has contracted a bacterial infection, which has led to sepsis. It’s extremely rare for patients to get infections shortly after surgery, but?—”
“Sepsis? What does that mean? Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re loading her up with the strongest antibiotics we have, but the infection is aggressive.” He grimaces, and I prepare for the worst possible news. “If we don’t get it under control in the next few hours, she could die.”
The solid floor disappears beneath my feet. My knees buckle. I brace a hand against the wall to steady myself. My stomach’s in knots, the doctor’s words echoing in my head like footsteps in an empty hospital corridor.
Die. Victoria could die.
No. I won’t let that happen. It can’t happen. Not to her.
“There must be something else. Something experimental. Whatever it costs, get it for her. I don’t care. Just…” I grip the doctor by the shoulders. “You’d better fucking save her. Do whatever it takes, just save her.”
He takes hold of my hands and gently removes them, settling them by my sides. “There are no experimental drugs. All we can do is hope the antibiotics do their job. Right now, her body is attacking itself, and the inflammation is extensive. The next two to three hours should give us an indication of whether the drugs are having the desired effect.” He rests his hand on top of my shoulder. “Talk to her. It’ll help.”
“Her, or me?” I ask dully.
“Both.”
As he leaves, a nurse enters and takes up position on the other side of Victoria’s bed. She gives me what she probably thinks is a reassuring smile. I’m not reassured. I’m fucking petrified. If I thought Victoria was pale when she came around from the operation, it’s nothing compared to now. Her skin is paper thin, and the black circles beneath her eyes look like she’s been punched repeatedly in the face.
I pull up a chair beside her bed and sink into it. Despair and disbelief press down on my chest. How did this happen? It shouldn’t have happened. She should be at home with Penny and me, asleep in our bed.
This is Elizabeth’s fault. Hers and Laura’s and Phillip’s. As if there was ever any possibility of Victoria denying her sister a life-saving operation, even if it put her own life in jeopardy. From what she’s shared with me, it’s clear my wife has spent the entirety of her twenty-four years fighting for equality in the eyes of her parents. Although she never confirmed it, that desire to feel worthy of her parents’ love played a part in her decision, and no one, including Victoria, will convince me otherwise.
I rest my forehead on my wife’s cool hand, and a flood of words spill out of me, each one tripping over the next. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you. I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before. I couldn’t find the words. Why are they easy to say now when you’re unconscious?” I press her palm to my cheek. “I love you so much. After my mother died, I thought my heart perished with her, but you breathed life back into it. You’re my everything, Half-pint. You’re my fucking life. Without you, I can’t go on. I don’t want to go on. Please, please come back to me. Fight, baby.” Tears spill down my cheeks, dropping onto the pale blue hospital blanket, leaving a dark, round mark. “Fight it. I know you can do it. You’re one of the strongest women I know. Don’t you let it win.”
I wipe tears off my cheeks. “I can’t believe I once thought I wanted to change you. That you were too unruly, too opinionated, too sassy. The very things I thought I disliked about you are the things I love the most. Please, I’m begging you, Half-pint, please don’t leave me. I’m nothing without you.”
The door bursts open, and Laura and Philip almost fall through it. The medics must have told them what’s happened, and I’m pissed about it. I’m her next of kin. I should have a fucking say who comes and who stays the hell away. My feelings are painted all over my face when, through bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks, I cut them down with a few vicious words.
“This is your fault.”
* * *
“Nicholas.” Dad’s voice breaks through the brain fog of the last few, chaotic hours.
I wearily lift my head from Victoria’s bed and peer at him, my eyes stinging from lack of sleep.
Behind him, Xan hovers, his expression as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “May we come in?”
I half lift a hand. It’s the best I can do. I’m exhausted and terrified. Victoria made it through the night, but it’s been touch and go, and she’s still not out of the woods. Even if she doesn’t die, she’s at risk of having one or more of her limbs amputated. The thought of that makes me want to scream at the unfairness of it all.
I hide behind my hands, shaking my head in despair. Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Where are Laura and Phillip?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” After I heaped blame on their shoulders, I told them if they didn’t leave, I’d have them thrown out. I press fingertips to my temples. “This shouldn’t have happened, Dad. I want answers. I fucking need answers.”
“I spoke to the surgeon a few minutes ago,” Xan says, pulling over a chair and sitting next to me. He hands me a coffee, and I take it from him. “One percent chance of something like this happening, but when it’s happening to you, what the fuck do statistics matter?”
“Right.” My head rolls back, and I blow out a breath.
“Go and get something to eat, Nicholas,” Dad says. “We’ll stay with her.”
Not a chance. “No. What if she wakes up and I’m not here? Besides, I’m not hungry.” Coffee will keep me going. When my wife opens her eyes, I intend to make sure I’m the first person she sees.
If she opens her eyes.
I press a fist to my chest and rub. It feels as if gravity is pushing me down. Even lifting my arm to drink takes a monumental effort. Although we don’t speak, the love of my family in their silence gives me strength, and I appreciate them more than I’ll ever be able to convey.
Every thirty minutes, the nurse takes a few vitals, notes them on a chart, then returns to her seat.
Ten hours since my life fell apart.
Ten of the worst hours of my life since I found my mother lying at the bottom of the bath.
To cope, I’ve lived my life in a bubble. I realize that now, and I’d have continued living that way if Victoria hadn’t planted roots in my heart before I knew what was happening. I thought I was incapable of falling in love. The truth is I only had to wait for the right woman to come along.
In a way, I should be grateful to Elizabeth for faking her death and pushing Victoria and me together, but I’m not there yet. And if she doesn’t make it, I’ll never get there, either.
Dad and Xan stay for a couple of hours before switching out with Christian and Saskia. I see right through them. They don’t want me to face this alone. Gratitude swells my heart as my sister stands behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, pressing her cheek to mine.
“We’re here for you. For you, and for Victoria. We love you.”
A fresh bout of tears rush to my eyes. I’m not the crying kind of guy. Hell, I didn’t even cry when we buried Annabel or Mum. Victoria has changed me one loving moment at a time, and I didn’t even see it coming.
“Got you, bro.” Christian lightly punches my upper arm. He looks as wrecked as I must—not that I’ve looked in the mirror—and I vow that when this is all over, and Victoria is recuperating back at home, I’m going to sit down with my brother and see if he will tell me what’s worrying him.
Tobias and Uncle George take the third shift. Their appearance raises a smile. It’s evident my family got together and worked out a schedule, but when they leave and it’s only my wife and me, I draw in a deep breath and let more silent tears pour down my cheeks.
* * *
Something wakes me. I jerk upright, my heart hurtling into fifth gear. I don’t recall falling asleep, but I must have.
“Victoria?” I stuff knuckles into my eye sockets and rub. Everything’s blurred. I rub again and blink several times. My lower back’s in spasm, and I knead the taut muscles.
As my vision sharpens, I study my wife’s face. She’s still sedated, but that waxy pallor has retreated, and there’s some color back in her cheeks.
“She’s a tough lady, your wife.”
I startle. “Shit, Doctor. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were fast asleep. Sorry to wake you.”
“Must’ve passed out.” I crack my neck on each side. “Give it to me straight. How’s she doing?”
“Remarkably well for a woman on the verge of death a few hours ago.” He smiles, and I think it’s meant to reassure me, but I need facts, not sympathy.
“What about amputation?” Even saying the word makes me want to puke.
“The infection is receding. Her last blood tests are encouraging.”
“You’re saying she won’t die, and she won’t lose her arms or her legs?”
“That’s correct. In time, she should make a full recovery. She’s a fortunate woman.”
The crushing fear that’s been eating me alive dissolves, leaving me lightheaded with relief, and the hot sting of fresh tears rushes to my eyes. I’ve cried more in the last twenty-four hours than in the previous three decades.
She’s going to be okay. My wife isn’t going to die or suffer from life-changing consequences because of a selfless gift to her selfish sister.
“Why isn’t she awake?”
“She’s still under sedation. We’ll begin withdrawing those drugs shortly. Once we do, she should wake in an hour, give or take. If you wanted to freshen up, now’s the time.”
“No.” Until I look into her pretty hazel eyes and hear her sweet voice, I’m going nowhere.
“As you wish.” He retreats, and it’s just us again, but this time it’s different.
On shaky legs, I stand and lean over to kiss her forehead.
I haven’t lost her. She’s coming home with me, where she belongs.
If I were a benevolent man, I’d call Laura and Phillip and tell them their eldest daughter is going to make it.
But I’m not.
So I don’t.
Screw them both. They can suffer for a little while longer.
I don’t give a fuck.