The receptionist consulted her computer screen and tapped a few times. “He’s still in surgery, Mrs. Hennessy. If you’ll take a seat in the waiting room on the third floor, the doctor will be out in an hour or so to give you an update.”
The lady’s eyes shifted to the next person in line. Alexia had been dismissed, with no information and no hope. Totally caught off guard, she stood there, agape.
“Just follow the arrows to the elevator, go to the third floor, and you’ll see the waiting room when you exit,” the lady finally prompted when she didn’t move.
“But how is he? What happened? Surely there’s more you can tell me,” she insisted.
“No, I’m afraid not.” Her sympathetic smile did nothing to calm Alexia’s anxiety. “The doctor will have to fill you in. I’m sorry. I know this is difficult.”
Difficult didn’t cover it. Like a sleepwalker, she shuffled to the elevator, lost among the hubbub of a busy hospital. Other people passed, some with purpose, some looking as clobbered as she was.
At least he was alive. They wouldn’t be doing surgery otherwise.
The waiting room mirrored every other waiting room in a medical facility. Strangers were required to sit by each other in uncomfortable chairs, waiting for a miracle from a doctor who had too much to do and too little time to do it. CNN blared from the flat-screen TV mounted to the wall, and out-of-date magazines were strewn on every flat surface, cover after cover featuring decorated cookies or wrapped presents in ruby and evergreen themes.
Nothing like a candy cane or two in July. She stumbled to a chair, please God, please God, stuck on repeat in her mind.
Her skin crawled along with the time. She never stopped scrutinizing the floor, petrified of possibly meeting the hollow eyes of one of the others waiting in purgatory along with her. If she shared a communal glance with one of the living dead, she might have to care about the fate of someone other than Jesse, and she didn’t have the energy.
No one came the first hour, or the second, and her mouth dried up, but she refused to find the water fountain for fear of missing the doctor. The longer she waited, the more alarmed she became. What could be taking so long? What kind of accident had it been?
Jesse’s employee had been severely injured by one of the machines in the factory. The sickening squelch of Jesse being crushed by one of the big presses reverberated in her imagination. He might never hold her again, and she’d selfishly tried to reinvent their duo into a trio instead of focusing on what she did have. A man who loved her.
Of course he did, and a baby agreement could never make that more true.
“Mrs. Hennessy?”
Instantly, she jerked up as if tied to marionette strings, more than willing to answer to the name for eternity if the speaker bore good news. A trim Asian woman in a white coat stood at the edge of the waiting room, her eyes almost swelled shut with fatigue.
Alexia crossed the small room in two strides.
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Hennessy.” She glanced at the hospital ID badge clipped to the woman’s pocket. “Dr. Yen?”
“Yes, that’s me. Your husband is going to be fine.”
Alexia’s legs gave out, and she almost tumbled to the ground before she caught herself. “Are you sure? Just like that? Tell me what happened.”
“The EMT said a car crossed over the center divider and hit Mr. Hennessy’s driver-side door. He’s lucky to be alive.”
Dear God. A traffic accident. Not an accident at the factory. Since it wasn’t what she was expecting, the words zinged around inside, looking for a place to embed. Better or worse, to find out he’d been in a car wreck? Had he been driving too fast, like he always did?
“Was anyone else hurt?”
Dr. Yen hesitated. “I’m not really at liberty to say. I’m not sure if the vict—ah, other driver’s family has been notified.”
A miniscule slip, but substantial. Someone had died. Her heart twisted painfully for the other family, people who were not hearing the same news she’d received. Thank God Jesse had survived. “What are his injuries? Can you tell me?”
“Of course. A ruptured spleen and several bruised ribs. He has multiple lacerations on his left arm. His face is banged up, and he’ll have some pain, but he won’t have any permanent damage. We were able to save the spleen, but it was touch and go for a while. He’ll have to stay here, oh, maybe one or two days for observation. Would you like to see him?” she offered.
Tears cascaded unchecked as she internalized his list of injuries, but Alexia managed a nod.
“He’s still sedated and won’t know you’re there,” she warned. “He won’t wake for several hours. You’re welcome to stay. I’ll clear it with the night nurse since it’ll be past visiting hours.” Winking, she nudged Alexia. “Better for him to see a gorgeous woman first thing instead of an old sawbones like me, eh?”
She gave the doctor a small, tremulous smile, grateful to scrounge up somewhat of a normal reaction. The sterile smell of the hallway intensified as she followed Dr. Yen, coating the back of her throat and shaking loose a wave of dizziness. At a wide, wooden door, the doctor paused, opened it, and motioned Alexia inside.
Jesse—commanding, solid, competent Jesse—lay on the bed in a blue hospital gown with tubes funneling into his body like he’d grown grotesque extra appendages since this morning. A giant white bed dwarfed him and stole his vibrancy. Only the husk of Jesse remained, like his essence had been left behind in the wreckage.
The walls wavered. Shrank. Started closing in.
By sheer will alone, she warded off the panic attack. He needed her to be strong.
The doctor had said he’d still be sedated, but he appeared to be in a deep sleep. Harsh, white butterfly bandages on his face stood out against his skin, which was so much paler than normal. The bandages were welcome though, because they hid what must be the lacerations the doctor mentioned.
He had one under his left eye in almost the exact same place as the bar fight scar he already had under his right eye. Symmetry. He’d like that. The rest of his body was covered by the hospital gown. Lumpy strips, probably tape or bandages, around his sternum must be what they’d bound his bruised ribs with. She flinched. He wouldn’t be able to move very well for quite some time.
She sat by the bed, gently took his hand, and sat without moving or shifting her eyes from the sleeping form for hours. Nurses came and went, each touching her arm or shoulder to ask if she’d eaten, or if they could bring anything. Without speaking, she declined them all. Her stomach was in knots, and if by some chance she got a mouthful of food down, it wasn’t staying there.
Until Jesse’s eyelids opened, she couldn’t convince herself he was still in there. Like the doctor had been mistaken, and he was really in a coma. Once he woke up and confirmed she hadn’t lost him, then she could breathe again. And maybe eat.
A TV mumbled in the corner of the room, but Alexia hadn’t paid any attention to it until a reporter mentioned Jesse’s name. She glanced at the screen and wished she hadn’t. Cameras zoomed in on the twisted wreckage of the Vette as tow trucks pulled it away from the other vehicle, a compact car of an unidentifiable make and model. It was hard enough to tell it was painted white.
“Whoa. Is that mine?” Jesse wheezed.
Startled, she whipped around to face him. He blinked slowly at the TV and then at her.
Tears splashed down onto the blanket, and she didn’t stop them. Who cared if he thought she was weak? Did that really matter in the grand scheme of things? “Hey, you. Yeah, that’s your Vette. When the CEO of a local company decides to redesign the lines of a classic car, they report on it.”
He grimaced. “No wonder everything hurts.”
“Don’t try to talk. You have a lot of stuff wrong with you. Concentrate on getting better.” She stroked the hair back from his wan forehead and bent to kiss his hand, too afraid to lift it for fear of pulling the tubing loose.
“Other guy?” His voice sounded like he had a bad case
of the flu, thin and insubstantial.
“You don’t follow instructions very well.” She tried to smile and couldn’t. “He didn’t make it, Jess.”
“Oh. That sucks.” He blinked, an exaggerated motion, like an owl waking up, and twitched a couple of fingers. “It hurts. All down the side. Did the wreck ruin my shirt?”
“I haven’t seen it but I’m sure it’s a complete loss.” She hated to say it, regretted she hadn’t thought about it. He prized his shirts above most other possessions. “Which one was it?”
“R.E.M.” He swore softly. “I loved that shirt. Glad you’re here, Alf.”
His eyes drifted shut and he was out. She clicked off the TV. He didn’t need to see the corkscrewed remains of his car again.
Chapter 11
She stayed at the hospital through the night, sleeping in the chair by Jesse’s bed in snatches, catapulting fully alert when one of the nurses bustled into the room to stick medicine into Jesse’s IV or straighten the sheets. He woke twice more, only for a few minutes each time, and then drifted off again.
When the strain finally became too much and she needed a break, she called Shannon to bring some clothes and food. When her sister arrived, Alexia met her in the hall and took the beach bag gratefully, with a quick peek inside. Shan had packed a couple pairs of jeans, two T-shirts, and a La Madeline to-go box.
“You can return the clothes anytime,” Shannon offered. “I only wear jeans on the weekend. How’s Jesse doing?”
A couple of white-coated hospital personnel rushed by, speaking medical jargon in low tones, and she waited for them to pass before shrugging. “Fine. Under the circumstances.”
“How are you doing?” Shannon’s hand on her arm was warm and caring. Alexia covered it with her own and held it for a minute.
They were still sisters despite Shan’s overbearing counsel and lack of confidence in her, and the incident with Danny at the mall had given Alexia new insight. Somehow it was easier to be kind when she knew Shannon actually made mistakes too.
“Fine.” Longer, more descriptive sentences refused to form.
“You’re about to keel over. You need sleep and to take care of yourself,” she advised. “He’s in good hands here. Let me take you home.”
“No.” The adamant response earned sidelong glances from more harried medical personnel eddying around them. “I’m not leaving. Thanks for the stuff.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll stick around and hang out for a little while.”
They sat companionably in the spacious, private hospital room, and as Shannon chatted, Alexia was thankful for the distraction. She wouldn’t have thought to ask for company, and it was nice.
Until Shan cleared her throat.
“How’s the deal going?” She inclined her head toward Jesse, eyebrows raised and curious. “I’m guessing well. You know, given the lingerie and the trip to the Bahamas.”
Alexia’s spine stiffened. She’d kept her sister in the dark about her relationship with Jesse—on purpose. Mostly because she still didn’t know where the relationship was headed, and Shan’s very vocal opinion about Jesse would only add confusion.
“We’ve still got a ways to go until I can honestly answer your question. We’re taking it one day at a time, and I’m okay with that. Or I was, until this happened.” Her voice broke, and she stuffed a fist against her mouth as anguish rose up.
“You said he’ll be fine. Once he’s ready to roll, then you can focus on what you need to do to make it work. Honestly, I’m jealous.” She shrugged it off like it was a throwaway comment, though it was anything but.
“Really? Why?”
“I’m single, without so much as a one-night stand to recall fondly. Obviously, I’m pretty forgettable. You, on the other hand, have a wickedly gorgeous man doing backflips to get you into his bed and showering you with gifts and trips to the beach. He built you a house. Bought you a dog. Are you starting to see why your reticence is a little frustrating?” Shannon snapped.
“Yeah, it’s a party all day, every day. Nothing but incredible sex and presents. Sorry I brought it up.” Alexia crossed her arms and stared at a spot on the wall above Jesse’s bed. “You know, it’s not as easy as it looks to be with Jesse. There’s more to him than dollar signs. Complicated things.”
“Like what?”
Why had she opened this Pandora’s box? The überlawyer in the next chair couldn’t understand the imbalance of power. Shannon would never willingly give up leverage, not even to a man she was in love with. “The miscarriage is still there.”
Which wasn’t the biggest issue, but it was the easiest to explain.
“Because you haven’t dealt with it.” Shannon pounced on the opportunity to harp on it again. “You like to blame all of the problems in your relationship on Jesse, but it’s not all his fault. It takes two to argue. I say this because I love you. You have to face reality. What’s going to happen if you get pregnant again?”
She flinched. What Shannon really meant was, what’s going to happen if you have another miscarriage?
But Alexia had shoved that probability behind a big wall and pretended the biggest hurdle was getting Jesse to agree to the pregnancy in the first place. If she got him to agree, that meant he was willing to concede, that there was a chance they could be equal partners in this marriage.
But there was no guarantee a second shot would yield a full-term pregnancy, and then she’d have to go through all the same devastation again. She’d tied all these things together as some kind of magic cure, and that simply wasn’t going to be the case. All the pregnancy tests she’d taken since the broken condom incident had come up negative, and she’d been distraught each time, which served to show how messed up everything was.
“It’ll be fine,” she told her hollowly, but Shannon’s face said she didn’t believe it any more than Alexia did.
“It’s not going to be fine! You still have panic attacks, so obviously you’re not over the miscarriage. You have to deal with both, or you and Jesse will never work.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, sis. Really, you’re so helpful.” Biting her lip, she tried to think of anything else to talk about—the weather, the Cowboys—but couldn’t. “Look, the panic attacks started happening because Jesse walked out on me. He apologized, and I forgave him, so I’m over it. There’s just a lot of other… stuff going on.”
Huge, insurmountable stuff. Obviously Jesse wasn’t on board with the idea of having a baby or he’d have brought it up by now. Avoiding the topic wasn’t helping, especially when the thought of never being a mom was just as bad as the thought of losing Jesse.
And her sister had no idea that Alexia had started dreaming of a positive pregnancy test.
“Still think this patent deal is about Jesse standing in the way of your success?” Shan’s eyebrows lifted and said I told you so.
Nothing made Alexia happier than proving her sister wrong. “Nope. It’s about control. Jesse likes having me under his thumb, and he’ll never change. I have to decide if he’s worth it.”
All her problems with Jesse stemmed from his drive to control everything and everyone around him. And her inability to let him.
If she was being brutally honest, her hatred of Outlaw grew from his distance after the miscarriage. It was where he escaped, and she’d resented it. All her criticism of his work ethic was a front for the real issue—he hadn’t supported her like she wanted after the miscarriage, and she transferred her hurt to his company. Complaining about the attention he gave work only served as a way to grasp at something she could control.
Alexia had way too many balls in the air, and she had the worst feeling they were all about to drop.
Her brain threatened to cave in, and she couldn’t talk about this anymore. Not now. “Isn’t it time for you to go?”
“Sure, I’ll leave.” Shannon stood. “He’s right for you and will make you happy, if you’ll let him. Remember, a relationship goes two ways. He’s making compromises. Apol
ogizing. What are you doing for Jesse? Expend some effort this time.”
Her sister sailed out of the hospital room, and Alexia muttered under her breath, “Says the self-confessed single girl.”
What had she been doing this whole time but exerting so much effort her soul was bleeding?
She turned. Jesse watched her quietly. His eyes were the most focused they’d been thus far, and his fair Irish skin had finally shed the ashen paleness present since the crash. How much of the conversation had he heard?
“Hey, Alf.” Jesse swallowed. His throat balked at the movement. Intense pain radiated from his midsection, and it took every ounce of will to fight through the web of agony. His skin felt tight, as if his insides were jockeying to burst out.
The car wreck. Hospital. Everything blurred together in one big haze.
Alexia rushed to his bedside and stroked his arm. “You look like you’re feeling better. Are you?”
“In the most relative sense,” he said, as wryly as his weakened state allowed. “I still feel like I got hit by a train.”
The pain medication must have worn off. He debated about whether to ask for more, but the discomfort didn’t outweigh the need to think clearly, and he had to be sharp for this conversation. He and Alexia had to talk. Right now.
He’d made a major decision while trapped in that wreckage, and she needed to hear it.
“Honda, actually,” she corrected, then frowned. “Sorry. Now’s not the time for bad jokes.”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes for a beat. “I remember. In vivid detail, I’m afraid. How long have I been here?”
“Too long. A little more than a day.”
Well, that was a relief. Dolores could handle things for a couple of days, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to. Beeps and shooshing of strange equipment filled the silence as he struggled to find the right words for what he had to say. What he’d realized. He was sorry it had taken this long to figure out what she needed from him, and doubly sorry it had taken a bone-crushing car wreck to beat it into his skull.
Married To Her Ex Page 15
