“I’m so sorry, Chase. I know you might not believe me, but I love—”
“Ari? Talk to me.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Arianna! Keep talking to me. You love what? Finish your thought.”
Nothing.
“Arianna!” I shout. “Tell me what’s going on.”
The call doesn’t drop, so I know we’re still connected. I keep screaming her name, but I don’t hear anything. No movement. No breathing. Nothing. Not a sound.
“Did you take something? If you did, it’s okay. Just tell me so I can help you. You just have to tell me.”
It’s too late. Her words replay in my mind over and over.
Charlie bursts into the room. “She’s at a hotel in some city in Sweden.”
“Get an ambulance there now.”
Charlie’s face turns white. The piece of paper in her hand shakes, but she doesn’t move. She just stares at me with a grave look of fear.
“Now, Charlie! Move! We might be too late!”
Spencer comes into the room and grabs the slip of paper from her hand. He covers the bottom of his phone. “I’m on the phone with someone who’s going to get an ambulance to her. Charlie, go pack. Butch is chartering us a plane. We need to leave ASAP.”
I throw my clothes in a bag and pace, waiting for an update from Spencer. He comes back a few minutes later.
“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Spencer says. “I was getting all the information third-hand, and the translation was a bit spotty, but they found her covered in blood. It sounds really bad. The hotel manager thinks she tried to commit suicide.”
“She’ll be okay,” I reply.
“I hope so but—”
“No buts,” I shout. “She’ll be okay. That is the only outcome we’re even considering. Now pack your shit so we can get on the plane.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the elevator.
Chapter Thirty-One
Arianna
I feel as though I’m sinking into freezing cold water. When I open my eyes, everything is slightly out of focus, as though I’m looking at it from under the surface. I hear Chase, but his voice is distant and garbled. The more he talks, the farther down I sink and the harder it is to understand him. Then the lights come on, and it takes me a minute to adjust. People are in my room, rushing around. I think they’re rushing. But I’m watching them in slow motion.
A man shakes me. His lips move, but I can’t follow what he’s staying. It’s too hard to try. I’m so tired. I close my eyes to rest. He continues to shakes me, and I swat at him. Can’t they see I need to sleep?
The next thing I know, I’m woken up by the most obnoxious sound. I open my eyes, and I’m in an ambulance. European sirens are like nails on a chalkboard. The paramedic keeps talking to me, but I have no idea what he’s saying. With his clipboard and pen at the ready, he looks at me with raised eyebrows and his head slightly cocked, as though he’s waiting for answers. He’s going to be waiting a long time. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep again.
I’m woken when they practically drop the stretcher while pulling it out of the ambulance. They always make the stretcher transfer look so smooth on TV. Patrick Dempsey never dropped anyone on Grey’s. This feels like a carnival ride on the fritz. I’m swarmed by people in scrubs and lab coats. They keep shouting at me as if I’ll suddenly understand them if they shout louder.
“No hablo Ikea,” I answer then burst out laughing. It’s not that funny, and my stomach feels as if it’s splitting in two, but I can’t stop laughing. Oh, Jesus, I’m delirious.
The stretcher rolls down a narrow hallway with blinding white light. I close my eyes and let myself be taken into the light.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chase
Of all the moments I wish I could relive with Ari, seeing her in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines, isn’t one of them. It’s still jarring to see her with black hair. Maybe she did it because it suited her mood? Maybe because she’s trying to become the opposite of everything she used to be?
Her face and arms are beat to hell. Some of her bruises and scratches look pretty bad. If Sven did that, I’ll track him down and kill him. That’s not a euphemism. I will strangle him until the light goes out of his eyes. It took all I had before not to break his legs and pop off his knee caps.
When we’d arrived at the hospital, we couldn’t find anyone who spoke English. When we finally found someone to translate, the doctors wouldn’t give us any information. I was seconds from going nuclear when I remembered I had the power of attorney Wallace doctored. The administrators insist on sending it out to their legal department for authenticity, but in the meantime, they allow us into her room. They’ll only let one of us in at a time though. I watch her chest rise and fall. Every time she exhales, my heart stops, praying she inhales again.
Ever since she started on this path of self-destruction, I’ve worried about the fallout. Her standards of excellence are impossibly high. She’s never had any tolerance for lapses in judgment or people being fallible, human. Anything short of perfection is unacceptable. Sure, she’s always seemed to find ways to move past my fuck-ups, but it’s almost impossible to regain her respect. I’ve lived in the darkness of her condemnation, and it’s a cold and lonely place. I can only imagine what she’ll do to herself. The question isn’t if she’ll beat herself up, it’s just how badly. But to kill herself? I don’t know the details of what she’s done, and I’m not sure I want to know. Especially if they’re so bad that she’s given up hope for redemption. The thought that she has been in such a dark place that she lost her strength to fight back slays me. Why did you wait so long to call me?
Her arms are tucked under the blankets. I want to see her wrists. I need to see for myself if she hurt herself. As much as it’s killing me to not know what happened, I don’t want to disturb her. A part of me wants to see if she’ll tell me herself. For the first time ever, she reached out to me when she needed help. I pray it’s a sign she’s coming back to me. But I’ve learned not to get my hopes up when it comes to her.
Dropping my head into my hands, I beg God, or whoever’s listening, to help guide her out of the blackness she’s shrouded in. Please bring her back to me. I’ll do anything. I’ll be everything she needs. Please just bring her back to me.
I lift my head when I hear a soft moan. Her legs move under the blankets, pulling at them. She’s always hated when the sheets are pulled too tight. She pulls her right arm free then scratches the IV in her left elbow. With the exception of a few bruises, her right arm is unmarred. No sign of an incision or cut deep enough to cause the kind of blood loss the hotel manager described.
Her eyes open, and she blinks a few times. “You came.”
I smile. “You called.”
My gaze meets hers, and a light flickers in her eyes. She looks happy to see me. But in a split second, the light is snuffed out and all I see is pain.
“I’m so sorry.” Tears stream down her face. She curls into a ball and covers her face with her arms, revealing two perfectly smooth forearms. Her shoulders shudder as she sobs.
Moving to the edge of her bed, I rub her back. “Shhhh. I promise everything will be okay.”
“Nothing will ever be okay again. I’ve ruined everything.”
I run my fingers through her hair. “Ari, you’ve had a rough month and made a few mistakes. But nothing has happened that can’t be fixed. Nothing is ruined.”
Pushing herself up with her forearms, she looks at me. “You don’t understand. There’s no coming back from this.”
I wipe her tears with the pad of my thumb. “Tell me. Together we can figure it out.”
She opens her mouth, but instead of words, she wails and collapses back on the bed. Her body heaves as she cries. Her breaths come so fast I worry she’s going to hyperventilate. Even after her father died, I never saw her like this.
“Arianna, you have to try to calm down. Breathing this hard isn’t good for you.
”
A nurse runs in and shouts something at me, but I don’t understand. She pushes me away from Ari and points at the chair. As I sit, she pulls a syringe from a drawer along the wall then injects it into Ari’s IV.
“What is that?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.
The nurse writes something on Ari’s chart, slides it back in the slot on the door, then leaves.
In a matter of seconds, Ari’s eyes glaze over and her breathing slows. Taking Ari’s hand, I return to my spot on the edge of her bed.
“Please talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” I bring her hand to my lips. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how unless you talk to me.”
“You can’t help me,” she says, her voice fading as whatever they shot into her takes effect. “I’m beyond help.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. I promise you we’ll find a way to make everything right.”
Her eyelids clearly become heavy, but she fights to keep them open. “I killed my baby. There isn’t anything anyone can do that will make that right.” Her eyes close. As her body relaxes, her hand slips from mine.
I watch it fall to the bed, too stunned to stop it. Baby? You drop that in my lap then fall asleep?
This past week has tested my patience and resolve in ways I never thought possible. I’ve been calm and steady up until this point, but I’m starting to crack. I want to shake her, wake her up, and force her to talk to me. I’ve been very careful to not allow myself to think about what she’s been doing over the last month, or more specifically, who she’s been doing. I would be a fool to think she’s been skiing down a mountain of coke and hasn’t slept with someone else. Everyone I know who’s been big into coke has said it goes hand and hand with sex. But as I told Charlie, I’ll forgive and forget whatever’s happened this month if I can just have Ari back. The easiest way for me to do that is to just not think about her actions at all. But there was a baby? It’ll be much harder to stay in a bubble of denial now.
Was the child mine? No matter the answer, it ends with my heart getting shattered. If she lost another man’s baby, I have to accept the cold hard fact that she was with someone else. No matter how hard I try to understand her grief, I won’t be able to fully grasp it, and it could drive a wedge between us. If the child was mine, then I’ll be grieving right along with her.
A month ago, the thought of a baby brought the first rays of sunshine back into her life, breaking up the dark clouds of Aiden’s death. I don’t know what this loss will do to her. Even before she knew what it meant, Ari was pro-life. She believed once a baby had a heartbeat, it was a person who deserved to be protected. Losing a baby, especially like this, will devastate her. Her life is already spiraling out of control. It’s as though she’s at the edge of a precipice, barely hanging on. I’m petrified this loss will shove her right off the cliff. If that happens, how in the hell will I ever get her back?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Arianna
The smell of Armani Code lingers in the air when I wake up. Is this real or a dream? Why would he be here for me after everything I’ve done to him? I suppose some doctor or orderly could wear the same cologne. It’s pretty popular. I hope it’s him though. Real or dream, I’ll take him any way I can get him. I crack open my eyes, praying if this is a dream that it’s a good one for a change. I’ve had about all the nightmares I can take.
Sun blankets him as he sits in a chair by my bed, reading a book. The golden flecks in his brown hair glow under the sun’s rays. He absently runs his thumb back and forth under his square jaw, telling me he’s thinking hard about whatever he’s reading. I wish I had a camera to capture the way he looks right now. Whether this is a dream or reality, I know I’m going to lose him soon, and this is how I want to remember him for the rest of my life.
Once he sees me, it’ll be the beginning of the end. I stay perfectly still, hoping if he doesn’t notice me, I can live in this moment for just a little longer.
As he turns the page, he glances over the edge of the book. Smiling, he dog-ears the page and sets the book on the floor. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Are you really here?” My voice is harsh and rough, like my vocal chords have been brushed with sandpaper.
He smiles. “You ask me that every time.”
Every time? Oh God, do I even want to know? “I do?”
“Yup. And every time I tell you that of course I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. You called me, so there’s nowhere else in the world I would be. I’ve been wondering how many times it’ll take for you to believe me.”
I look at my hospital gown. “I don’t recall. It’s hard to remember much, actually. My brain feels as though it’s been marinating in mud.”
He pulls the chair closer to my bed. “I can’t say I’m surprised. They’ve been pumping you full of drugs. When they wear off, you wake up for a few minutes, but the second you get a little agitated, they rush in. A minute or two later, you’re out like a light.”
Somehow I’m guessing I was more than “a little agitated” if I needed to be sedated. I wonder just how bad I was. “How long have I been asleep?”
“You’d wake up here and there, but for the most part, you’ve been down for two days.”
“You’ve sat in that very uncomfortable-looking chair for two days?”
He nods. “Pretty much. Charlie’s popped in now and again so I can shower and grab something to eat. You just missed her. She left to take Spencer to the airport, but she’ll be back.”
“I’m really shocked she’s here after how things went the last time I saw her.” I pull at a loose thread on my blanket. “I’m actually shocked either of you are here after everything I’ve done.”
He jumps up and sits on the edge of the bed. “Stop right there. This is usually when you get upset and they rush in and put you back down. I’m not ready to have you slip away just yet. I need more than a few minutes with you. So stop whatever you’re thinking. Charlie and I love you.” He smirks. “Different kinds of love of course, but we love you. Nothing you’ve done can change that. We’ll be by your side as long as you’ll have us here.” I open my mouth to fight back, but he cuts me off. “And before you say anything, I may not know everything that’s happened, but I know enough to know that I’m not leaving. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here to listen. No matter what you tell me, I’ll be by your side.” He shrugs sheepishly. “We may have had this conversation a few times before.”
Embarrassed, I feel heat spread across my cheeks. “I don’t know where to begin.”
He puts his hand over mine and squeezes gently. “The beginning is usually a good place to start.”
I wish I could pull the emergency brake. Once this conversation starts, it can only end with him walking out that door. I want to pull the blankets up over my head, but I can’t. Not now, not ever again. Baby-killers don’t deserve to hide from their pain. I have to face the consequences of my actions. It’s about time I suffer for my sins.
I start with when I ran out on him, then I tell him about running into Sven and Ibiza. That part is easy; it’s the rest that’s going to be difficult. Not just for him to hear but for me to say those words. The words I’ve been denying are true. I open my mouth to speak, but my tongue is tied. The words won’t come. Once out there, then it’s real. I can’t take them back.
He gently rubs circles on my back. “Ari, whatever you have to say, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I take a deep breath and speak from my heart. “At first, being with Sven was amazing. I didn’t have to think about Daddy or any of the mess. It was like the only thing in the world that existed was what was right in front of me. I felt free. I’ve always been bound up by something. Obligations, expectations, demands. There was always something, but when I was high, none of that mattered. Once I got a taste of that liberation, I didn’t want it to end. Escapism at its finest.
“When I was high, the world was perfection. The colors seemed br
ighter. Music sounded better. People were more interesting. I felt absolutely nothing but elation. But then the high ended, and it was as if the magic bubble protecting me popped. The weight of everything I was trying to ignore crashed down upon me, smothering me with reality. I thought about what I’d done, how I’d behaved, and I… I’ve never felt so ashamed.” I can’t look at him, but he stays quiet and lets me speak.
“When I woke up sober, I woke up without my ability to handle anything. All of my emotions were so raw, so exposed, that feeling anything real caused physical pain. I actually felt like I would die of humiliation. My body ached from it from head to toe. Shame and guilt swirled through my head like a tornado, spinning on an endless loop. It was all too much, so I ran to the next high to escape again.
“After a while, I didn’t want to do it anymore. I wasn’t ready to go home and face everything, but I couldn’t handle the swings anymore. It was more than I could bear. I felt like I was lying on a bed of nails dipped in poison that wasn’t strong enough to kill me. Just enough to leave me in a suspended state of pain. I couldn’t do it anymore. But Sven was always there with another line or another pill, and I hid for one more day.
“When I woke up with Charlie, it was like my head had exploded. Not only was I apparently recovering from an overdose, but I was hit with the reality that my two worlds were colliding, and it freaked me out. I thought everything I did and said while I was on this hiatus from reality would stay tucked away in a vault, partitioned from the rest of my life. I never wanted you guys to see this. But there she was, and I lashed out.”
“She said you were pretty mad at me,” Chase says.
“That’s an understatement. When I found out about Daddy, I was a mess. It felt like everything was a lie. There were so many times he could have told me about his child and his affairs, and he didn’t. It just made me doubt everything. But I couldn’t yell at Daddy. I couldn’t scream at him for answers. Getting mad at him does me no good. And there you were, and you told me he’d told you, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. So all of that anger and hurt got directed at you. It was easier to hate you than to face the truth. Then I needed someone to blame for my own actions, and it couldn’t be me because then I’d have to face questions I wasn’t ready to ask. But you, on the other hand, you make a very good villain. Every story needs one, and you were mine.”
Love To Hate You Page 30
