CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“How is she, doc?”
I heard Declan’s worried question from somewhere in the dizzying darkness.
I tried opening my eyes, but they seemed stuck for some reason.
“She’ll be fine,” replied a voice I’d never heard before, but assumed was the doctor Declan had been talking to.
“Her blood pressure skyrocketed for a moment, and she passed out. Nothing to be too concerned about. It’s back to normal now, so a little rest and some fluids, and she’ll be as good as new. Minus the sprained ankle, of course.”
“Skyrocketed?” That was Cassidy this time. “How can someone’s blood pressure skyrocket in less than a few minutes? She was fine when I left her in the living room. And that was five minutes before Declan found her passed out. How is that possible?”
“Have either of you done or said anything to upset her?” the doctor asked, and he had a slight Indian accent that I found quite charming.
“Upset?” Cassidy balked. “Of course, not. My brother and I were in the kitchen having a conversa…” she paused, seemingly having come to some sort of realization.
“Fuck!” Declan growled in the silence that followed, and the frustration in his tone was unexpected. “Do you think she overheard us?”
Whatever answer his sister gave him must not have been sufficient, because he swore again, then started to pace the length of the room.
His distinctive footfalls, which I’d come to know and take solace in these past few weeks, now sounded heavy and ominous as his bare feet kissed the hardwood floors.
“Well, whatever it was,” the doctor chimed in, “maybe try to avoid it next time. As I said, she’s fine now.
But if it happens again, you need to take her to the hospital.
High blood pressure is not something to mess around with.
But in the meantime, just let her rest and make sure she eats and gets lots of fluids when she wakes up. ”
“Thank you, doctor,” Cassidy said. “I’ll walk you out.”
Again, I tried to open my eyes to let them know that I was fine, but they refused to cooperate. Plus, all this fussing about my health and well-being was truly getting to me. I was an adult, goddammit. I could take care of myself.
Panic attacks and passing out, notwithstanding.
Sleep drew near again, and just as I was about to go under, Declan’s phone rang, and he quickly answered as he padded out of the room.
Only the rumbling of his voice and the terse, “This better be important, Millie. My girlfriend is sick,” was all it took for me to know we would be okay.
◆◆◆
I woke to a dark room and the press of a large, warm body curled protectively around mine.
I must have made some kind of noise, because Declan immediately sat up to turn on his bedside lamp.
“Mel, darling, are you okay?” he asked, voice rough with sleep. “How are you feeling? Can I get you again?”
His flustered, rapid-fire questions made me want to laugh, but my throat was so dry I feared I would only cause myself further damage.
“Water,” I croaked, and Declan sprang into action.
For a man his size, he moved with surprising speed and agility, and a glass of water was quickly presented to me as he helped me to sit up and take a few sips before downing it all in one go.
“More?” he asked when the glass was empty, but I shook my head.
“How long was I out?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Like a few days kind of ‘couple of hours’, because it sure feels like it.”
Declan chuckled, and the sound caressed the beating organ in my chest. “It’s a little after one in the morning. You missed dinner.”
My stomach took that moment to let her feelings on that particular matter be known, and I grimaced.
Declan smiled. “I can warm up some leftovers, or I can make you anything you want.”
I frowned and looked at the clock—1:28 am.
I winced. “Maybe just some warm cereal.”
Declan stared at me like I was from another planet. “You eat warm cereal?”
“Yeah, you just warm the milk in the microwave, then pour it over the cereal. Warm cereal.”
“Sweetheart,” Declan said softly. “I care about you, and you mean more to me than you could possibly know… But that is serial killer behavior.”
I laughed, and that nervous feeling I’d woken up with finally subsided.
Despite his misgivings about my cereal consumption habits, Declan had indeed made me warm cereal, and half an hour later, I was feeling much better.
“Can I ask you something?” Declan asked.
After my cereal—and another glass of water at Declan's insistence—we snuggled together in bed, neither of us talking; simply content with being in each other’s arms.
“Sure,” I said simply. “But after you tell me who Millie is.”
Declan’s brows pulled together in confusion. “Millie?” Then his face relaxed when he realized I’d overheard his earlier phone call. “Oh, Millie is my secretary, Mrs. Gills.”
I’d heard about his secretary. Declan had spoken about her fondly. But—
“Millie?” I balked. “You call your sixty-year-old secretary by her first name?”
Declan grimaced, looking properly chastised. “Yeah, I hate it too, but you try calling her anything other than Millie to her face and see what happens to you. I never thought I could be whacked with a wooden spoon outside a kitchen, but Millie somehow made it happen.”
I looked at him. Paused. Opened my mouth to speak. Paused again.
“Uh… okay,” was all my brain could muster.
“See?” Declan said frantically. “You’re dumbfounded, too. That was my exact reaction the first time it happened.”
I winced. “Remind me to stay on her good side. Also… how is she getting a wooden spoon past security and into the building?”
Declan scowled, looking like a five-year-old ready to throw a tantrum. “She brings them homemade double chocolate chip cookies.”
I stared at my love, taking in his dispirited look. “You’re more upset about her giving away cookies than you are about the spoon thing, aren’t you?”
“Those cookies were mine!” he said defiantly, and I laughed so hard my diaphragm started to hurt. “Seriously, though?” he pressed when my laughter had died down. “What happened earlier? You were fine one minute, and the next, you’re passed out on our bedroom floor?”
Our bedroom.
It was simple things like those two words that had me falling more and more for Declan every day.
He was honest in everything he did and said, and I genuinely believed him when he said this was ‘our bedroom’.
Because he meant it. He’d maintained that everything that was his was now mine, and if his gifting me the services of his most ruthless attorney wasn’t enough to prove his honesty, I didn’t know what would.
So I sat up straight and turned to face him.
“I had a panic attack,” I said openly. “I’ve been having them on and off since my dad died, and they’re usually triggered when my anxiety gets too much to bear.
I, uh… overheard you and Cassidy talking in the kitchen, and something about the exchange brought me right back to that night when I asked you to come get me.
Seth and his girlfriend were arguing about something that I needed to know.
And when I overheard Cassidy use those exact words in your guy's conversation, and my anxiety just… took over, I guess.”
Declan looked stricken. He swallowed a few times, his throat working convulsively, before pulling me into his arms.
“First,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for triggering a panic attack. I promise, I will try my damnedest never to do it again. Second, do you take medicine for your anxiety?”
I shook my head, and he released his hold on me to look me in the eye. He looked so wounded for having caused my discomfort that I wanted to cry.
“I’m okay now,” I reassured him. “I have a few deep breathing exercises that a grief counselor had taught me once. And they usually work. I guess I was just too flustered to remember.”
He nodded. “Okay, are there any signs I should watch out for when a panic attack is coming on?”
I smiled and cupped his handsome face. “I’m fine, Declan, I promise. This isn’t something you need to worry about. I can manage it. I have been managing it. You don’t need to worry.”
“Okay, well, then… there’s something I need to tell you.”
The look on his face had me on instant alert.
I’d never seen that reaction on him before, and something about it made me heart sick.
He looked ashamed.
“Whatever it is, I promise I won’t judge,” I assured him. “Like someone great once told me, I’ll listen and understand. That is what I’m here for.”
He smiled at the echoed words he’d spoken to me once, and the light that had left his eyes slowly started to come back.
He blew out a long breath, then touched the artful shamrock tattoo on his bicep. “I need to tell what this means. And I hope you’ll still want to be with me after that.”