8. Nick
Chapter eight
Nick
" O h, I'm sorry," Willa gasps, looking at me with frantic eyes. "It just slipped."
"Don't worry. I'll clean it up. Go celebrate with your family."
Upon hearing Henry’s jubilant proclamation, I felt Willa tense in my arms a split second before she dropped her glass.
Now, she stands unmoving. Before I can offer up a question of concern, Willa inhales a strangled breath and composes herself.
It's as if she's donned a mask to hide her true emotions.
She affixes a smile upon her lips, yet all color has drained from her face.
Refusing to meet my questioning gaze, she pushes away from me, marching over to offer her congratulations.
As the catering staff steps in to clean up the spill, I move out of their way and watch Willa, scrutinizing her odd behavior. Willa may be a world class actress, but I sensed the shift in her energy upon hearing her brother and sister-in-law’s news. Something regarding Lily’s pregnancy upset Willa.
Reflecting upon my first conversation with Willa, I wonder if it’s as simple as her desire to leave Hollywood behind for a life with a husband and children.
Could it be as straightforward as jealousy?
Is Willa jealous of Lily’s life because Lily has what Willa desires—a husband and now a baby on the way?
After several minutes of sharing congratulations and hugging her family members, Willa stumbles backward on unsteady legs, exiting their celebratory circle.
Cautiously, I approach her, noticing how her smile is drooping.
She’s pulling on the bodice of her dress with a trembling hand and her face has grown even paler.
Sweat beads at her hairline. Gently, I place my hand on her back, feeling how rapidly her chest is heaving, her breath coming in unnatural, juddering hitches.
Fuck, I recognize the signs.
Stepping into her, I inquire quietly, "Would you like to step outside for a moment?"
In a jerky motion, she nods once, her wounded eyes locking onto mine.
I wrap my arm around her waist and cut through the crowd, muttering apologies.
“Too tight,” she mumbles as she continues to pull on her dress. "Too tight. I can't breathe."
Dammit, she is on the verge of a panic attack.
Quickly, I weave through the house until we reach the backyard patio. When I shut the door behind us, the party sounds instantly mute, cloaking us in darkness and granting us privacy.
Leading her to an outdoor sofa, I force Willa to sit as I kneel in front of her. My finger slips around Willa's tiny wrist. Her pulse is hammering. Not a good sign. Finding the zipper of her dress, I unzip it a few inches to loosen the bodice.
Shite, I can’t remember what to do. It’s been years since I helped someone through a panic attack. The coping mechanisms I learned are jumbled in my memories.
Luckily, one grounding technique springs to mind. “Open your eyes, Willa, and name five things you see. You can do it.” Keeping my voice calm and steady, I urge her, “Five things, Willa. Tell me five things you see.”
She manages one deep inhalation, before her breathing once again comes faster, like she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. If I can’t get her to slow her breathing, she might pass out.
Comforting her as best I can, I murmur, "You're safe, Willa. I know it feels like you're in danger, but that's your anxiety talking. You're safe, and I'm going to stay here with you."
I continue to encourage her to focus on her surroundings, and eventually she responds. “Bracelet.” Breath. Breath. Breath. “Table.” Breath. Breath. “Plant.” Breath. Breath. “Fireplace. Tree.” Breath.
I comb my fingers through her hair over and over as she speaks haltingly.
“Willa! Are you out here? Willa,” a frantic masculine voice calls out, cutting through the stillness of the muggy night.
Glancing to my left, I’m not surprised to spy Aiden storming through the backyard, and I glare at him, willing him to calm down so that he won’t upset Willa any further.
When he reaches us, he mutters, “Shit,” but doesn’t say anything else. He sits beside Willa and gently rubs her back.
Ignoring Aiden’s presence, I continue, keeping my voice soft. “Good. You’re doing so well. Name four things you feel.”
She pats the bodice of her dress again, but this time the motion isn’t as agitated. “Soft. Silky.” Her hand drifts to the jewelry on her wrist as her responses come more easily. “Metal. Cold.”
“That’s right, baby. Can you tell me three things you smell?”
She inhales deeply and lets it out slowly. “Salt. Rain.” She pauses. “Cologne. ”
Taking her hand, I place it on my chest. "Breathe with me. Slow and steady." After a few deep inhalations and lengthy exhalations, she seems calmer.
I raise my fingertips to caress her cheek, grateful that her breathing is normalizing, and the color is slowly returning to her face. “How are you feeling?”
Her voice, though tremulous, sounds stronger. “I’m—I’m alright now.” Then she whispers, “Thank you.” Turning to Aiden, she grips his arm, and he pulls her in for a long hug.
“I tried to find you, Willa. I knew you’d be upset, but you’d disappeared before I could get to you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Aiden. I’m okay. I promise. I just had a mini freak out, not a full-blown attack. But I’m good now. Nick helped me through it. Go back inside before someone notices that we’re both gone and comes looking for us.”
“You sure?” When Willa nods, Aiden stands up.
"I'll take care of her," I promise Aiden.
He huffs, clearly worried about Willa, but he acquiesces and returns to the party.
Sliding onto the sofa, I take Aiden’s abandoned spot before I tug Willa’s limp body onto my lap. My arms engulf her petite frame, and I rest my head upon hers. Rubbing my hands over her bare arms, I feel the anxiety slowly ebb out of her as she relaxes against me.
After several minutes, she whispers, “How did you know?”
“My younger sister, Ellie, has generalized anxiety disorder and often had panic attacks when she was younger. I went to therapy with her and learned some coping techniques to help her."
"Does she still have them?"
"Occasionally, but not often. As a family, we’ve changed how we operate to allow Ellie more privacy. While she still deals with anxiety, establishing a life away from the family business has helped her immensely.”
I know I’m potentially opening up a can of worms, but I won’t lie about Ellie. However, Willa surprises me when she doesn’t question me further about my sister or the family business.
Instead, her the right corner of her lip lifts. “I can’t imagine anyone related to you suffering from anxiety.”
“What do you mean?"
Sitting up in my lap, Willa waves her hand around my face. “You exude such…robust confidence with that cocksure smile.”
“Wow, Willa. We haven’t even been on a real date yet and you’re already talking about busts and cocks. You Americans are so forward.”
“Nicholas!” she gasps as I laugh.
I love it when she calls me Nicholas.
She slumps back against me again with an irritated harrumph.
“Can I ask what upset you so much about your sister-in-law’s pregnancy announcement?”
Willa stiffens and stays silent. She fiddles with a thread from her dress until finally she timidly raises her eyes to meet mine.
I stroke the back of her neck and backtrack, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, baby.”
“Baby,” she mumbles, repeating me. She shakes her head, blowing out a slow breath as a tear slides down her cheek. With my thumb, I wipe it away.
Then she says in a voice that is barely audible, “I lost a baby two years ago.”