Untimely You (14 page)

“I’ll be okay. Maybe Shawna will let me tag along this Christmas,” I tell him with a high-pitched fake laugh. “She has this new doctor boyfriend. He’s okay. You’d like him.”

He lets me change the subject and moves on from talking about Christmas. “Shawna’s a good girl. I hope he’s good to her. What about you? Any new fellas?”

My thoughts drift to Adrian. It’s been a little over a month since that perfect night. A night where he made love to me without a worry in the world. It had also been the last time I’d seen him. He’s been diligent on keeping his space from me no matter how much that makes my heart ache.

“No, no fellas, Dad. Anyway, I should get off here soon. My boss will be back, and I need to get packed up.” Adrian won’t be here for another couple of hours, but he’s not paying me to chitchat all day with my father.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m so sorry we won’t make it. We’ll try and make it out after the New Year. I miss you and need to hug your neck. Love you.”

“That sounds great. Love you too, Dad.”

We hang up, and I set the phone on the bedside table. Chrissy’s cheeks seem rosier and my heart kick starts as I wonder if it means something.

“Chrissy?”

No reaction.

“She won’t respond,” Denise says from the corner of the room in her chair, a book perched on her knee.

I glance over at her and nod. “I know. Her cheeks looked red, though. Just thought I’d try and talk to her.”

Denise frowns and stands. “Is she warm?”

Taking Chrissy’s hand in mine, I furrow my brows in concern. “She feels hot.”

Panic starts to thrum in my chest as I worry she’s becoming sick. Denise shuffles over to me and begins checking her vitals.

“Her temperature is up from when I checked her this morning when I arrived. I’m going to listen to her chest.”

I nod and quickly text Adrian.

Me: Chrissy has a temperature.

Wacko: How high?

“How high is it, Denise?”

She holds up a finger while she listens to her chest. When she hears what she wants to, she tugs the stethoscope from her ears and grimaces. “One-oh-one point two. I can hear feedback in her chest too.”

Me: 101.2 and Denise says there’s noise in her chest.

Wacko: Fuck! I’m on my way.

My heart wants to flutter with excitement at seeing him but now’s not the time. Turning back to Chrissy, I frown. “Don’t go getting sick on Adrian. He needs you, hon.”

Denise shakes her head at me and continues to check other parts of her body. “Her pulse is erratic. I think she might have a chest infection, possibly pneumonia.”

I inhale a ragged breath. On one of my random phone conversations with Adrian, he mentioned Chrissy battles pneumonia nearly every winter. They’d always been able to beat it. At least this was something they were familiar with and would know what to do.

“I’m going to call Dr. Harden,” Denise tells me.

Nodding, I motion that I’m going to step out. I need to catch my breath before Adrian arrives. There’s no sense in letting him see my anxiety. Rushing into the hall bathroom, I splash some water on my face to calm my nerves.

My hair is a wild mess today, and I wish I’d have thought to bring a hair tie with me. I wonder if there are any of Chrissy’s stashed away in her secret room. By chance, I’d seen Yvette retrieve a key from on top of a picture frame in the hallway last month. I slip out of the bathroom and am glad to find the key in the same spot. I’ll just be in and out. Search for what I need to find and get back before Adrian comes home.

I open the door and frown to see it in such disarray. I know she dusts in here, but there is clutter piled up everywhere. It’s as if he took everything that hurt him to look at and threw it in here. Several boxes are stacked along the walls and all clearly marked with a Sharpie in feminine handwriting.

Damien’s Artwork.

Chrissy Goodwill.

Damien Jeans – Size 4-6.

Chrissy Books.

Adrian Winter Sweaters.

I swallow and peek into Damien’s box with his artwork. Hand drawn pictures are stuffed into the box. The one on top has three stick figures. He and Chrissy are smiling. Adrian is frowning and holding a glowing box with an apple drawn on the back of it. For some reason, the picture makes me sad.

Quickly, I close the lid and hunt in her Goodwill box. Maybe she was donating some clips or something I could use to get my hair out of the way. I yank the lid off and dig through folded, outdated clothes until my fingers brush against paper. I’m curious, so I pull out what ends up being a large yellow envelope. Black typed letters on a white label are plastered on the front.

D
ECREE OF
D
ISSOLUTION OF
M
ARRIAGE

I turn it over and lift the prongs to open the sealed envelope. Inside, I pull out a stapled pack of legal documentation. The papers are dated December of 2003. The papers aren’t signed, but all of the sticky notes pointing to his name beside hers are still present.

Shit.

I wonder if he knows and has chosen to ignore a time when things were bad between them, or if she never got the chance to give them to him. If the latter is the case, I don’t want him to find out. He’s gone through too much to discover something so hurtful. From somewhere in the house, I hear his booming voice and I nearly squeak aloud in fear. Quickly, I stuff the papers back into the envelope and hide it beneath the folded shirts. I replace the lid and hurry from the room. I’ve just locked it and replaced the key when he rounds the corner.

“Dr. Harden is on his way.” His voice is husky and raw. The powerful man’s shoulders are hunched and he looks like he might cry at any moment. “I’m going to change and then get back in there.”

All I can do is nod as he passes. His unique, manly scent swirls around me and I inhale his lingering essence before hightailing it back to Chrissy.

“Yup,” Dr. Harden says with a sad frown. “A chest X-ray will give us a more definitive answer but she has pneumonia, in my opinion. We should call for an ambulance and get her to the hospital…if those are your wishes.” He says the last part carefully and I wonder if they’ve had this conversation before.

“Of course I want her well. I’m not leaving her here to die,” Adrian snaps.

Since he’s returned in a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt, he’s alternated from pacing the room to kissing her hand. I’m barely noticed in the corner but I can’t seem to bring myself to leave. Not yet. I want to be there for him when he emotionally crashes. And I have a feeling it won’t be long.

“Mr. Hocksted,” Dr. Harden replies softly. “You know that’s not what I mean. It’s ultimately your decision.”

Adrian runs his fingers through his hair and briefly flashes me a confused glance. As if seeing me in his space doesn’t quite fit in his brain. With a jerk of his head, he turns back to the doctor. “Get the ambulance here. I want her treated immediately.”

The doctor nods and leaves to make the call. Denise busies herself with doing her normal evening routine with Chrissy, ignoring our exchange.

“I suppose I should leave now,” I tell him as I stand.

His eyes travel from her to me, and I don’t miss the despondent look in them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a rush of breath. “Please stay. I just, I need…”

I lift my chin and hurry over to him before I chicken out. From behind, I wrap my arms around him and hug his large frame. His muscles are tight with tension but relax the longer I hold him.

“It’s okay, Adrian. I’ll go with you if you want. I’m here for you.”

He lets out a hiss and tears well in my own eyes when I come to the conclusion he’s silently crying. I link my fingers together over his stomach and rest my wet cheek against his firm back. He doesn’t say anything or touch me or push me away. For quite some time, he stands there with his face buried in his hands while his body quivers with the smallest of shudders.

“Thank you, Neesy.”

“Shhh. Rest.”

I blink open my eyes to find him carrying me down the hallway to his bedroom. We stayed at the hospital for hours until they settled her in a room. They eventually kicked us out once visiting hours were over and I’d crashed in the car on the way home.

I should go home, but the prospect of holding him through the night seems far more tempting.

He sets me on his bed and stalks over to his dresser. After he tugs out some sweats and a T-shirt, he tosses them on the bed. “Change into that while I go lock up.”

I nod and exchange my jeans for comfy clothes that smell like Adrian, clean and all man. I’ve just curled up under the blanket when the light gets shut off and he climbs into bed beside me. We don’t speak—he just pulls my arm over his chest and hugs me to him. At the hospital, he’d been the fierce formidable husband, barking out orders at everyone. But now, he’s the broken, devastated man who needs my comfort.

After a lengthy silence, he speaks. The words are a ragged whisper, but I listen with rapt attention.

“I didn’t do her right, Nees.”

I swallow and run my fingers over the small patch of hair between his pecks. “Marriage is never perfect. I’m sure you did your best.”

He chuckles, but it’s humorless. “Our marriage was unravelling. All because of me. I was obsessed with work—in creating my empire. For them,” he says in a disgusted tone. “But it got me nowhere.”

“You’re a good man, Adrian.”

“Am I? Look what I’ve done to you. I kissed you. I fucked you. I’m in bed with you. And I’m married. Good man, my ass.”

“With your situation, it’s understandable and anyone would—”

He snatches my wrist and pushes it against the bed as he leans over me. His hot breaths tickle my neck but I don’t dare move or speak. He’s angry and needs to say his piece.

“Nobody would! Just me. I ruined her life!”

“Adrian…”

“Neesy, she had signed a living will not long before the accident. It’s like she knew it was coming or something. I’d wondered why she’d gone to the lawyer and had such a random document drawn up. I could sense the deception when she showed it to me—the way her eyes fell to her feet as she explained how it was good to have certain documents in order, should anything happen. Sometimes, I wonder if she’d planned to kill herself or something. But that makes no sense, either. She loved Damien so much and would never leave him.”

My heart sinks knowing she never showed him the divorce papers that she’d most likely had drawn up at the same time.

“If she had this document, then why is she—”

“Because I’m selfish, Nees. I couldn’t bear to live without her. She never had a chance to give her advanced directive to her doctor. When they asked about it at the hospital—when her mother screamed at me wanting to know where it was, I lied. I told them she changed her mind and destroyed it. In my heart, I just knew she’d come out of it. I’d already made changes in my life and vowed to not work so hard, so that I could spend more time with her and Damien.”

He chokes out a sob and the grip on my wrist lessens. Sliding my free hand into his hair, I tug him to me. His body relaxes as he buries his face into my hair beside my neck.

“She’s been suffering in that broken body for twelve years. I should have let her go. Now, it’s my punishment to take care of her the best I can until one of us passes on.”

I stroke his hair with my fingers. “Do you still have it?”

He tenses but doesn’t respond.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

A shudder wracks through him as he sobs into my hair. “Yes.”

I turn toward his face and kiss his forehead. “It’s not too late to give it to Dr. Harden, you know.”

His nose nuzzles with mine. “They’ll call me a monster. I just thought it was ludicrous for such a vibrant young woman to even have a living will in the first place. It made no sense because she was happy and healthy. Deep down, I hoped it was some mistake on her part—that, in the end, I knew what was best for her, rather than some stupid piece of paper I didn’t even know about. But those ultimately
were
her wishes and I failed her by keeping it hidden away.”

Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his. “You were stricken with grief and the terror of losing your wife.”