by C. C. Gibbs
Max nodded. ‘That always works.’ His voice softened. ‘And the life I’ve lived, I should know.’
‘Sometimes you wonder how the fuck you can move on though. How it’s even possible.’ Dominic was quiet for a moment, then he grunted and raised his hand with the cell phone. ‘I’d better make my calls. Keep me posted. I’ll see you later. And don’t worry about dressing up for the wedding.’ He flicked his finger down his body. ‘I’m wearing this.’
‘Leo’s going to want to come. Danny too, and’, Max sighed, ‘Martin.’
‘And Quinn,’ Dominic added. ‘Look, you take care of that guest list. Mine just has Nana on it.’
‘Helen?’
‘Yes, of course. We’ll squeeze in whomever you think should be here.’ Dominic smiled. ‘I probably won’t notice. My focus is pretty single-minded. I know how fucking lucky I am.’
‘Will Katherine be up to it?’
Dominic did a quick double take, then smoothly adjusted. ‘If Katherine isn’t strong enough, we’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll tell Mrs Hastings the schedule is flexible.’
‘I’d like to see her when you tell her that. Watch the fire coming out of her nose.’
Dominic smiled faintly. ‘No fire, Max. She just ticks up her charges. A very sensible woman, Mrs Hastings. The kind I can do business with.’ He started scrolling through his directory. ‘Katherine might wake up any time. I want to get these calls out of the way.’ Punching a name, he raised his hand in a wave and put his phone to his ear.
CHAPTER 15
‘Dominic here. I need a few things done.’
‘Certainly,’ Martin said. ‘Our condolences, sir, from myself and the staff.’
‘Thank you. It’s a sad situation. But Katherine’s recovering for which I’m very grateful.’ He did a quick in-and-out breath to keep it together and even then his voice was husky when he said, ‘I need a number of tasks done.’ He cleared his throat and his voice firmed. ‘First, if you’ll see that the bedroom is cleaned up.’
‘It’s already done, sir.’
‘Good. Then I need someone to go to Katherine’s apartment and pack up all the baby things – also some of Katherine’s T-shirts with inscriptions she won’t want to see. They should be put away with the baby clothes. Just let me know where you put things in the event Katherine asks to see them. I have no idea if she will, but if so, I have to know where they are. Personally, I’d prefer giving everything away but I can’t speak for Katherine.’
‘Consider it done, sir.’
‘Oh, and Mrs Hastings will be getting in touch with you. I’ll be waking her up soon to arrange our wedding. If Katherine’s health allows, I’d like to get married this afternoon. Max is arranging the guest list, so talk to him about any additions. And I’ll get back to you once I talk to Katherine. She’s still sleeping off the anaesthetic. Any questions?’
‘No. We’ll take care of everything, sir.’
‘Good. Fine. And I want the shipwreck Veuve. The hospital suite won’t accommodate many guests, but bring enough. Katherine and I will have a token toast, but the rest of you should celebrate the occasion properly.’
‘Yes, sir. That’s a very rare champagne.’
‘You only get married once, Martin.’
Dominic’s major domo was momentarily taken aback; his employer was casually overlooking his previous marriage. On the other hand, the first time he’d seen them together Martin had recognized that Dominic’s feelings for Julia had been affection and friendship, not passion. ‘I couldn’t agree more, sir. A special occasion deserves a special champagne.’
And Martin knew exactly how special the champagne. Dominic had paid four and a half million at auction for the forty-six bottles of the 1830 Veuve Clicquot found by a salvage diver in the Baltic.
‘A shame though …’ It was a mistake to even think of what might have been. Dominic swallowed hard. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
Shoving his phone in his pocket, Dominic bent over, his hands braced on his knees and waited for the onslaught of desolation to pass. Breathe in, breathe out, come on … get a grip. Get a fucking grip. Easier said than done, but several moments later, his shaky emotional defences back in place, he stood upright, moved to the door of Kate’s room, opened it slightly wider and said, quietly, ‘I’ll be back in five minutes. Everything OK?’
The nurse at Katherine’s bedside smiled. ‘She’s sleeping comfortably.’
‘I won’t be long.’
Easing the door shut, he turned, strode down the hall, took the elevator to the main floor, and walked outside. Moving away from the entrance door, he strode down the sidewalk to the end of the block. Then he went around the corner and punched the wall until his knuckles were raw meat. And for those few seconds of blinding pain, the awful sadness was seared, white hot and incandescent, from his brain.
Hearing a gasp, Dominic turned. ‘Move along,’ he growled. ‘None of your fucking business.’
The wide-eyed young man, a hospital employee from his name tag, quickly hastened away.
Resting his forehead against the brick wall, his arms hanging loose at his sides, blood dripping onto the pavement, Dominic struggled to contain the violence of his rage. He wanted to scream the world to a standstill, reduce the wall to rubble, hit someone – anyone. But he knew Katherine needed sympathy and love right now – not his hotheaded wildness. And that quiet reminder resonated in his brain, irresistible and compelling under the ferocity of his anger, until finally, finally, the rage subsided. Everything slowed down like it always did afterwards: each breath seemed to last a half-hour; the world reemerged from the indistinguishable grey-blue haze; he felt as if he’d had the air knocked out of him.
Gingerly pushing away from the wall, he winced as he shook the blood from his hands, looked down and winced again. Jesus, that’s some shredded flesh. Fortunately, the sight of blood wasn’t unusual in a hospital and the few people in the entry way when he walked back in didn’t look alarmed. But he entered the first bathroom he found, washed his hands in cold water, held paper towels over his knuckles until the bleeding stopped and grimaced when he saw himself in the mirror, his shirt front spattered with blood. Stripping off his shirt, he used cold water on the blood. His San Francisco housekeeper, Patty, had shown him how, saying: ‘You fight, you clean up your own mess.’ Wringing out the shirt, he put it back on and actually smiled when he saw his sopping wet image in the mirror. Grow the fuck up, dude – like seriously. Although he gave himself a pass this time. Who the hell wouldn’t want to break things after losing their child?
He didn’t have the heart to call Martin again. They could bring him another shirt later. He made his way back to Katherine’s room, pushed the door open slightly and stuck his head into the room. He glanced at Katherine and spoke softly. ‘Still sleeping?’
The nurse nodded.
‘I’m just outside in the hall making a few calls. Come get me when Katherine wakes. Otherwise, I’ll be in as soon as I’m finished.’
Another nod.
He eased the door shut, moved away a few feet and called his sister.
‘What a nice surprise,’ Melanie exclaimed.
‘I wish.’ Dominic dragged in a quick breath. ‘Katherine lost the baby.’
‘Oh dear God,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Nicky, I’m so sorry. How awful you must feel. And Katherine. How is she doing?’
‘Fine now. Not so fine a few hours ago. She was haemorrhaging, the doctors were freaking in surgery. I was watching, fucking terrified.’ He didn’t say more because he didn’t want Melanie accidentally bringing up the life-threatening events Katherine had survived. He didn’t want Katherine further traumatized. ‘But she’s recovering well, she’s sleeping. I just wanted to let you know the bad news.’
‘How are you doing?’
‘Honestly. It’s tearing me up. My knuckles are all bloody. That’s how it is.’
‘You didn’t hurt anybody?’ Melanie’s voice slid upward in pitch.
‘No, just m
y knuckles. They’re a fucking mess, but no one got hurt. So relax.’ He wiped his face with the flat of his palm, sucked air in over his teeth. ‘You know, life was going too good. I should have known it wouldn’t last. But Jesus, Mel, why did we have to lose’, his voice broke, ‘our baby.’
‘Oh God, Nicky, I wish I was there to help. Do you want me to come to London? Just tell me what you want.’
‘What I want isn’t going to happen.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘God, I feel like shit,’ he whispered. ‘You know what?’
But he didn’t speak for so long, Melanie said, nervously, ‘Nicky, do you need someone there right now to help you?’
‘Nah … I was just – thinking – or had been thinking – about Nicole babysitting for us. Like I did for you. I thought how nice that would be. Second generation … all that shit.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Me daydreaming – what a joke, hey?’
‘You can have other babies, Nicky. I know how trite and insulting it is to say right now, but you can,’ Melanie said, softly.
‘We’ll see.’ He wasn’t so sure he wanted to take the chance. ‘Everything’s too raw right now to even think about it. This was our child we just lost. You don’t know how much we both wanted it. More than anything in the world,’ he said, his voice cracking again. ‘Oh fuck.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Look, we’re coming home soon.’ Another hard exhale. ‘Either to Minnesota or San Francisco. It’s up to Katherine. I’ll let you know.’
His voice was normal again at the end. He’d pulled himself together like he always did, Melanie thought. ‘I’m glad you’re coming back. Wherever you are, we’ll come to see you and Katherine.’
‘Thanks. That’d be good. And I don’t want Mother to know.’ He pronounced the word, Mother, with an under-current of distaste so subtle that it was indistinguishable unless you knew the history.
‘I wouldn’t have told her, Nicky. Not in a million years. You know that.’
‘You’d better warn the kids – the older ones at least. Ellie’s probably too young to pay attention. But I don’t want to deal with Mother on this.’
‘That’s the last thing you need right now. No one will say a word.’
‘Good. Thanks.’ He paused for a moment and when he spoke his voice was strained, tight, his words slowly unwinding. ‘I’ve always been able to manage anything, sis. You know that. I’ve been doing it my whole life. Make things better. Or make them go away. Crush them if nothing else works. But I was helpless this time.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘Absolutely powerless. It was the most goddamned shitty feeling in the world. So,’ he said, a sudden crispness to his voice, ‘I’m going to marry Katherine this afternoon if she’s feeling strong enough. Life’s too precarious. I don’t want to wait. You can give us a reception when we come home. I hope you don’t mind. Actually, I don’t care if you do,’ he said, with his more familiar mockery.
‘I’d do the same if I were you,’ Melanie said. ‘You should have married her before if you ask me.’
‘I couldn’t. You know that. Or some of it.’
‘Problems all gone?’
‘Yup.’
‘That at least makes you happy. I can tell.’
‘Fucking A. No more waiting. I’m literally counting the hours till I’m married like some kid waiting for Christmas.’
‘But this is better than any Christmas.’
‘Yeah, like a gazillion times better. At least getting married is a happy occasion even though everything else has gone to hell.’
‘Katherine’s young. You’re young. You have plenty of time.’
‘Thanks, Mel. I know. It’s just going to take a while to get over’, he took a breath, ‘the goddamned sadness. I went shopping for baby clothes. Did I tell you? They were so tiny. Precious really. Shit – Jesus Christ, I could swear for a couple decades without stopping. But look, I’ve got to call the wedding planner now and get her out of bed. See if she can pull this together in a few hours.’
‘I’m sure she can. All it takes is money.’
‘Hackneyed but true. I’ll call you later and you can congratulate me on my new marital status.’
‘I’d rather talk to Katherine. You I can talk to anytime,’ she said, sportively.
He laughed. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
When he ended the call, he was still smiling. And he thought of how many times his sister had made the world a better place for him. She had the gift of compassion or maybe just years of practice. Not that his melancholy didn’t return seconds later, just as raw and agonizing as before. But he told himself he still had Katherine. He had to count his blessings he hadn’t lost her as well. He told himself to be grateful for what he still had.
CHAPTER 16
Mrs Hastings’ voice was woozy, but she’d answered so he didn’t give a shit how she sounded. ‘Ordinarily, I’d apologize for this extremely early call, but I’m in a very bad mood, so if you’d just accommodate me without too many questions, I’d appreciate it. That means I’ll pay for your disrupted sleep and my disagreeable mood in case my meaning is unclear. Now here’s what I need from you. You’re going to have to write this down. I’ll wait.’
Mrs Hastings’ voice was wide awake when she returned to the phone. ‘I’m in my office,’ she said. ‘What do you need?’
He almost kissed her over the phone, she was so imperturbable and obliging. ‘Miss Hart is currently in St Mary’s Hospital. She’s on the mend but I wish to marry her today. Call whomever you have to call to clear the ceremony in her suite. Pay them whatever they want, promise them whatever they want if it’s not money. I want the wedding this afternoon. If I have to talk to someone, give me their name and number and I’ll call them. Use the prime minister’s name if necessary. He owes me a favour. Two as a matter of fact,’ he said, brusquely. ‘I’ll call him myself if you like. I don’t want any opposition on this. Clear?’
She had to swallow hard, but she thought about Dominic Knight’s carte blanche offer of money and spoke with a businesslike calm. ‘Yes, perfectly clear. What sort of reception were you considering? The suites aren’t large.’
‘I’ll see that Katherine has their biggest room. I’ll do that as soon as we’re done here.’
‘Flowers?’
‘Of course. I want pale yellow roses.’
She almost choked because he’d wanted white roses for the church and reception before – lots, he’d said – and she’d ordered three thousand. It took her a moment to clear her throat. ‘How many yellow roses?’
‘I have no idea. I want Katherine to smile when she sees them. I want the suite to look cheerful. Order whatever’s necessary.’
‘Very well.’ She wasn’t going to mention what she was thinking: that he still had to pay for the three thousand white roses.
But perhaps her hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed because Dominic said, ‘Why don’t you send the white roses to some nursing homes and assisted living centres? How would that be?’
‘Excellent idea.’ She was beginning to understand why he was a billionaire. He was a brilliantly discerning man. ‘I believe the Reverend is out of town for the next two days. Should I recruit his assistant?’
‘Anyone who can read the marriage ceremony will do. If not the assistant, a magistrate. The religious aspect is immaterial. As for the reception, deal with Martin and Quinn once you know the hospital guidelines. I care little about anything but the actual ceremony. Although I’d like the wedding to be as beautiful as possible for Katherine’s sake. And if you’d have Ms Strahan find something suitable for Katherine to wear in bed. Also, have her invoice me for her work on the bridal gown as well as any time she’s given to maternity clothes. We won’t be needing either.’ Ignoring Mrs Hastings’ small gasp, he said, ‘If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be at the hospital with Katherine. And unless you hear from me with a change in plans, we’ll see you this afternoon.’
He stood for a moment in the quiet corridor, shaking away his fatigue. Although his
throbbing knuckles had the potential to keep him awake. They ached like a son of a bitch. He ran his palms over his shirt; not bad, semi-dry.
Moving down the hall to the nurses’ station, he said, politely, ‘Who do I talk to about reserving your largest suite?’
He was grateful to find an amenable employee, and an even more amenable hospital administrator who was speedily summoned from his home nearby. In short order, the administrator was able to rearrange some Middle Eastern prince’s room assignment to accommodate the wedding plans. Dominic didn’t have to use the prime minister’s name, although he did mention the hospital’s front entry was looking outdated and said he’d be happy to have it refurbished if his bride-to-be could be moved into the hospital’s royal suite.
Dominic was exquisitely polite, soft-spoken and gracious. He was capable of the most polished civilities if he chose. In this case, he wanted complete, unquestioning consent, since Mrs Hastings was also likely to require further policy adjustments. Once an agreement was reached, Dominic smiled, rose from his chair, and cordially extended his hand across Mr Pitt-Ralston’s desk. Quickly getting to his feet, the administrator sensibly overlooked Dominic’s bloody knuckles, kept his gaze averted from the torn flesh and shook his hand.
‘I’ll have one of my people contact you,’ Dominic said. ‘Tell him what you need for the entry remodel and he’ll send you a cheque. You’ve been very helpful.’
