Chapter 6
Gabrielle's POV
This cannot be real life right now. I pace back and forth in the waiting room, feeling like I could scream. I honestly have half a mind to just get up and go home.
Or rather, go back to Link’s house.
This asshole of a human being in fecal form won’t let me see Lincoln. And when he’s out of it, he doesn’t have a say.
Lincoln was calling out for me. Lincoln called me to go to his appointment with him. Not Sarah. But whatever.
The last thing I want is to get stuck in the middle of drama. Why am I even here anyway?
Sarah is giving me this glare, and I want so badly to smack the facial features off that bitch. Oh… how I want nothing more than to break her fingers, grab her wrist, and use the bones on them to claw her fucking face off her head.
But I’m in a decent place right now. And I’m not going to mess it up and make the same mistake. I need to get control of my emotions.
My mother was good with that. I can’t just fly off the handle every time something upsets me. And the greatest power you could ever give someone who is your enemy is having them control your emotions. Having them push you into doing something that makes them right about you.
No word or action should cause me to bend to the will of anybody. That’s not who my mother was, and that’s not who I want to be.
So I get my hand bag and I leave, figuring that when Lincoln is awake, or when they’re discharging him, they’ll let me know.
I care about him.
I do.
But he’s not totally in bad hands, because Sarah is here. And even if he wakes up screaming, guess what? Maybe that’s something he deserves to experience. Because had he not hurt me, he wouldn’t be in this situation.
Sarah’s who he chose, so Sarah is who he should be stuck with right now.
I go home.
When I walk into Lincoln’s house, Morris is already by the door.
“Oh, you poor baby,” I say, bending to pick him up. “I’m so sorry we left you alone,” I say to the cat, cuddling him like a baby, holding him on my hip.
“Daddy’ll be home in a little bit. He’s just, I don’t know, going through some stuff right now. But you got me,” I say, smiling at him.
I keep my busy self around the house, doing everything I can.
I cook a bunch of food. When Lincoln’s all better, he’ll need to eat. Whenever he was sick, he wouldn’t eat much, but when he started feeling better, he was always ravenous, always wanting to eat everything under the sun.
So I cook all the foods I know he’ll like.
Sarah’s the one that should be doing this. That bitch doesn’t even cook.
Why do men always do that? They swap out the upgrade for the old model. That’s basically a lemon. Whatever.
I’m not gonna lie. There’s a huge part of me that feels a bit of pride, knowing that the better I cook this food and the more love I put into it, when Lincoln tastes it, not only is it gonna make Sarah mad if she finds out I’m feeding him, but it’s also gonna make Lincoln feel even more regret.
Good.
He should.
Let every taste of my food stab him in the heart and remind him what he lost.
It’s not like I’m staying here forever.
It’s Thursday morning.
Why didn’t I get anything from Lincoln?
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I squint at the screen. My notifications load, and my stomach hits the mattress. I have a bunch of missed calls from his cell phone.
Practically launching myself out of bed, still in my panties, I call back immediately . The phone rings and rings.
Nobody picks up.
I call again.
“Hello?” a female voice answers.
Oh hell no.
I roll my eyes. “Is Lincoln okay?” I ask, already annoyed that someone else is picking up his phone.
It sounds like Sarah, but I’m not sure.
“Oh yes, Mrs. Arnoldson. Your husband’s fine.”
Then I hear someone in the background say, muffled, “They’re not married anymore.”
Fucking asshole.
“Apologize for that,” the woman on the phone says quickly. Definitely a nurse. “I’m so sorry. We’re a little busy this morning.”
I exhale, pacing toward the doorway. “Is Lincoln okay?”
“Yes, he’s doing just fine,” she says. “We gave him some breakfast a little while ago. He tolerated it well. He’s alert, oriented, and his numbers look much better today.
His temp is back in the normal range, his heart rate has come down, his white count is trending in the right direction, and he’s responding exactly how we’d want someone in early-treated sepsis to respond. So, yes, he’s doing very well.”
I’m smiling from ear to ear. I can’t help it. I’m so damn relieved I could cry.
Where is Morris? Oh. He’s curled up at the foot of the bed, he must’ve been there all night. I didn’t even see him. I must’ve been really tired.
“Do you have any idea when he’ll be discharged?” I ask, heading into the bathroom, pulling my underwear down and sitting to relieve myself while I keep the phone at my ear.
The nurse answers gently, like she knows I’m hanging on every word.
“So with sepsis from a urinary infection that he came in with, we usually keep patients at least 48 hours after their vitals stabilize,” she explains.
“He’s been on IV antibiotics since yesterday evening, and we need to complete another round or two before switching him to oral medication.
Today he’s doing much better, but he’s still on IV fluids, and we want to keep monitoring his kidney function, just to be safe. ”
I nod, even though she can’t see me.
“That means he’ll likely stay through today and tonight,” she continues. “If his labs tomorrow morning look good and he continues improving the way he is now, he could potentially go home sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
Tomorrow afternoon.
My whole chest lifts. Relief rushes through me so fast my eyes sting.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies. “We’ll keep taking good care of him.”
I end the call and sit there for a moment, underwear around my thighs, heart pounding with relief.
Lincoln’s okay.
He’s really okay.
It’s funny how you think that time and separation would help, but I’m still worried about him.
“Can I speak to him?” I ask the nurse.
She answers gently. “He’s actually sleeping right now. He was trying to reach you before.”
Then she adds, a little sheepishly, “We did have to sedate him again because he got a bit anxious and aggressive.”
My heart starts beating so fast. “What do you mean aggressive?” I ask.
“Oh, you know…” she starts, then explains in the calm, matter-of-fact tone only nurses seem to have.
“He has pretty classic white coat syndrome. So, he’s a bit antsy.
When he fully woke up earlier, he got confused and thought we were trying to keep him here against his will.
He kept asking for you. His blood pressure spiked, and we needed him calm so his body could finish fighting the infection, so we gave him a light sedative.
He’s resting really well now. Sleeping a lot. He’s comfortable.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“Would you like us to call you when he wakes up,” the nurse asks, “and then we can give him the phone?”
I stand there with the phone pressed to my ear, pacing without even realizing it. “Sarah’s with him, right?” I ask.
“Uh-huh. Yes. She’s still here with him,” the nurse says.
That doesn’t make me happy at all, but I nod automatically like she can see me, then catch myself.
“All right. If Sarah’s there with him and she’s making him feel comfortable, I’d rather him feel comfortable and rest unless he really tries to reach me. If everything’s going well, then I guess she can handle it. But if anything changes, just let me know, please.”
“Yep. Okay. We’ll do,” the nurse says kindly.
“All right. Thank you,” I say.
“Uh-huh. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” I reply, ending the call.
The entire day, I’m going crazy. Just being in the home by myself. I had to deal with all of this when I was living on my own in my apartment, but now that I’ve been living with Lincoln, it brings back old memories. Staying here is going to drive me crazy.
So I grab a harness for Morris from the store, come back, and then take Morris with me to go see the seagulls. Something the seagulls aren’t necessarily pleased with. But Morris isn’t an awful cat. Or rather, he’s not a normal cat.
Usually other cats would chase and try to catch the seagulls, or at least run away, seeing that they’re outnumbered. But Morris just stays there by me while I walk him with the leash attached to his harness. The cat is over the moon.
Did Lincoln used to take this cat on walks? He doesn’t even own a harness. He doesn’t own anything like this for Morris. But anyway.
As I’m getting ready to walk back to my bicycle, which is only parked about four feet away, I pull up my little book bag and stuff Morris inside, zipping it up and hooking his harness on the inside so he doesn’t jump out. Then I get a call.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hello,” a masculine voice replies through the other line, and it makes me tremble.
“Lincoln?” I question.
“Yeah,” Lincoln says, sounding tired, his words slurring a little bit. “You left me here. You said you wouldn’t leave,” he murmurs tiredly.
And for some reason, this makes me feel unwavering guilt.
“I wouldn’t have left,” I say, “if Sarah didn’t come there and basically threaten me and get me kicked out. Otherwise I would have been there with you the entire time. But she’s there with you,” I say, shrugging as I get myself and Morris ready.
“I want you here with me,” Lincoln says, sounding like he’s not all there. He almost sounds out of it.
“Well, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you,” I say, trying not to sound indifferent. The truth is I want to be there too. “As long as Sarah is in the way, I’m not going to fight to get myself in trouble just to stay by your side when you clearly have a girlfriend that is there for you.”
There’s quiet on the other line.
“All right,” he relents tiredly. “I should be home tomorrow, I think they said.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I just need you to get a lot of rest, okay? And I have some nice food here waiting for you when you get back,” I say to him.
“Wow, that actually sounds nice right now,” Lincoln says, his voice sounding croaked and even more tired.
“Something to look forward to,” I say, smiling from ear to ear.
“Yeah,” Lincoln chuckles tiredly.
“All right, you sound like you’re about to pass out, so I’m going to hang up with you and I need you to get as much rest as possible, okay?” I ask.
I can hear him smiling on the phone from his soft chuckles. He sounds almost half-asleep already.
“Yeah, okay.” His voice comes out tired again.
I have no idea where Sarah is, but even if she’s in the room with him, the bitch probably knows better than to tell Lincoln that he can’t talk to me. How hilarious.
“You’ll be there when I come back, right?” Lincoln asks me one more time, his voice sounding so tiny.
“Of course I’ll be here when you come back, unless Sarah comes here and tries to kick me out.”
“That won’t happen, it’s my house. How’s Morris, by the way?”
“Oh, Morris is fine,” I say, petting Morris in my bag. “Yeah, he and I are out to see the seagulls.”
“Really?” Lincoln asks. His excitement sounds as enthusiastic as a tired old car trying to start underwater.
“Yep,” I say, smiling. “I bought a harness for him and a leash and everything.”
“And he lets you walk him?” Lincoln asks, sounding a bit more energetic now.
“I mean, yeah, it’s like he’s always been able to be walked on the harness. You can’t tell. Didn’t have to train him or anything,” I say.
Lincoln chuckles. “Wow, just don’t lose him.”
“You think I was born yesterday?” I quip.
“Sometimes you looked like you were,” Lincoln teases, still tired.
We both laugh together. And for this moment, it almost feels like old times.
“Okay, sucker, why don’t you go sleep? Because you’re making me tired, the way you sound. And I’ll talk to you later,” I say.
“All right, baby. Later,” he says tiredly before hanging up.
He called me baby.
This shouldn’t be a surprise, because during our entire dating history and marriage, basically the whole time Lincoln and I were together, he’s called me baby. Or sweetheart. And it’s only because he’s out of it right now. He probably doesn’t even realize what he said.
Oh, shit.
It would be so hilarious if Sarah had been sitting there when he said that. Not gonna lie, though, it feels kind of nice hearing him call me that, even though we’re not together.
Maybe it’s just such an ingrained habit that when he’s doped up, he defaults back to it. His body and his heart remember.
If only he had been strong enough to resist what ended up tearing us apart.
Oh well.
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