The baby is fine - thank God - but she is my priority.
I’ve never been so scared in my life.
“She’ll be Ok, son.”
I look up into Mac Myers' friendly brown eyes, grateful of his support and respond unconvincingly. “Yeah, she will.”
She has to be.
*****
It is a further three hours before we are given another update. This time the Consultant Gynaecologist enters the family room with a tired serious face, still dressed head-to-toe in surgical scrubs.
“Lucia is stable now - you can go in and see her in a few minutes, once her last obs have been taken. She’s been very lucky. Getting that blood so fast helped.”
I hear Nina’s calm voice speak, asking the one thing I wanted to hear. “Will she make a full recovery?”
“We managed to save the remaining ovary and clear the pelvis of all fluid - it was a rather large cyst that had twisted and become attached to the bowel.”
“So she’ll be able to have more children?’
“Yes, Dr. Chada our in-house registrar did her best, before I arrived to limit adhesions to the bowel and a second C-section surgery would not be without risk. Unfortunately, the labour did not establish the way we would have liked, putting pressure on her and the baby and the large ovarian cyst she had - it burst and the baby’s heart dipped - the infection of the burst cyst hit Lucia’s blood stream, sending her blood pressure haywire. The baby was very large for her small frame and her section cut had to accommodate this. We were even considering a second cut up the centre of the abdomen, but we managed to get the little fella out in the end. Unfortunately we had to crack the bottom rib on her left, to remove the baby - he was just too wedged but that will heal with rest.”
I watch as Mac consoles his wife, who is visibly shaken - this was all a lot to take in. “Can I see her now?”
The surgeon nods his approval. “But keep it short. She’ll need her rest. You have a very tough lady in there - a real fighter. She is a very lucky woman - I don’t mind saying that it was touch and go for a while. The combination of blood loss and her heart murmur kept us on our toes but she’s through the worst of it now.”
Both Niall and I take a seat and bury our heads in our hands. The relief is overwhelming that she is OK. Niall’s guilt is eased somewhat and I grit my teeth in anger.
“Oh thank you so much, Mr. Porter - you saved my baby and I’ll never forget that - and our grandson.” Tears clog Nina Myers’ voice and I watch as Mac and her embrace, holding each other as huge waves of relief and happiness wash over them.
I clear my throat, and nudge Niall with my elbow, as he seems to have forgotten to retract his balls from the blonde pussy he’d banged earlier. “Yeah cheers, Mr. Porter - thank you so much for everything you have done.”
His calm and rather blasé acknowledgement is my undoing - it’s times like these I wish I still smoked. I can’t spend another minute in his presence - or God help me, the new baby would have both his parents lying in a hospital bed at death’s door.
*****
I enter the side-room, apprehensive of what I will find on the other side. Nina and Mac are now in the nursery visiting with Niall and the baby and finally I am left alone to see for myself that my friend is stable.
I rub a hand over my head, and slide it down the side of my face, drawing it harshly up over my mouth as I’m hit with the shocking appearance of Lucia, lying small and pale and vulnerable in her maudlin hospital bed. The only light is a metal bed lamp, which glows dimly over the numerous machines monitoring her stats. It’s now 3am and the sky outside is beginning to lighten and rain taps incessantly at the windows. God, she looks weak. Nothing like the Lulu I’m used to.
All kinds of tubes, filter a cocktail of drugs into her arms, her pallor is deathly white. I bend over, careful so as not to mess with the medical paraphernalia and plant a gentle kiss on her cool cheek. She doesn’t flinch.
“She won’t wake don’t worry.” I spin at the sound of a bubbly voice behind me, as a nurse comes to monitor Lu’s observations. “She’s heavily sedated.”
“Will she be Ok?”
“Ahh don’t worry, love - she’s through the worst part now - just got to watch out for infection now. She’s one tough cookie your wife!”
I interrupt her, but it falls upon deaf ears. “Oh she’s not my wi…”
“And that little man - he’s a corker - so handsome, just like his daddy - you must be very proud.”
The nurse busily continues on with her tasks and I decide to stay mute. Her words have stung deep for some reason and for just those few seconds I’m happy with the knowledge that this woman thinks I am the man taking care of Lu and her son - rather me than that useless article next door.
Watching her beautiful face, her long dark lashes, fanned across her cheeks, and cute snub nose I consider that although I’m not sure I’ll ever marry, deep down I like the sound of Lucia being my wife. She’d certainly never bore me!
“Yes - your wife was very lucky in there to have the right people at the right time - could have been very different for her and the baby. Not often we see such drama on these wards.”
I run a hand over her brow. Poor Lu - drama followed her around, whether she wanted it to or not. I still can’t wrap my head around the image of Niall fucking his work colleague, whilst his pregnant girlfriend was doubled over in labour - in agony and vulnerable - just waiting. And no one came. She should have called me!
She wouldn’t have called you first though would she? You’re not the father.
No. That wanker of an ex-friend of mine was and I’m now going to have to act like I didn’t know about his indiscretions. I couldn’t tell her - well not yet anyway. She’d be hormonal and irrational and needed to focus on getting well - for herself and the baby now. No, the time would come but deep down I fear Lu needed to figure this one out for herself - rightly or wrongly, this was something to be sorted between themselves.
I stroke her hand, which is now free of her customary nail polish - it looked small and childlike in my large palm and clasping it loosely in my own, I give her a quick supportive squeeze. As I draw her fingers to my lips, I take a deep grateful breath, calm my thoughts and lay a kiss at the tips. I need to get out of here, I feel suffocated and beyond wound up - my fists still itch to plant one on my supposed mates' pathetic jaw.
Satisfied that the patient is not in any pain, appears settled and is through the worst, I head off in the direction of the nursery to see the ‘little man’. What a fucking night! I’m not sure fatherhood will ever be for me!
I feel physically and emotionally drained and need time to reflect upon things after a good night’s sleep. The sheer panic I’d felt and lack of control over the whole emergency situation had gripped me with a force greater than I’d ever experienced before! Something I never wanted to repeat in this lifetime. The full force of my feelings for Lucia had hit me like a freight train and now was not the time to be dealing with them - much better to bury them and return to them at a later date, if ever.
One thing I know for definite; if I were ever fortunate enough to be in a relationship with Lu, I would never put her in a position like this again. I’d never risk her life for my own needs. One baby would have to be enough for us. No more kids.
*****
Present Day
God. Would the hollow, emptiness that ransacked the inside of my body and ravished my mind, never end? I am in sheer physical and mental ruin – pain even, and a shell of my former self. Nearly a week has passed since Sebastian’s housewarming and the arrival of his trolly-dolly girlfriend from Dubai - since I’d walked away from his lying face and cheating eyes. Nearly a week has passed since I had left the love of my life - my best friend. I quite simply ache for him. His voice. His smell. His touch. Our banter.
To have him inside of me.
For fuck’s sake, Lu – he’s like all the rest of them – a damned phony
!
I can’t seem to help myself– as each day passes, I want him more, not less. The memory can be such a cruel tool, especially when filled with flickers of images of the two of us that are nothing short of hot sizzling porn. I can’t bear the loss anymore.
James Blunt’s ‘Goodbye my lover, Goodbye my friend’, plays incessantly on my ipod as I wallow, a martyr to the cause – ‘you have been the one, you have been the one for me’ over and over again, almost revelling in my pain; bloody drama Queen. Thank goodness Finn was at Crèche in the daytime, so I could breakdown freely, without hiding my tears. By night, I’m Mum again, happy to gain strength from my loving little man and pretend that all is well. Anyone with a trained eye can see that my act is a total façade but it has appeased a 3year old - for now. I couldn’t carry on like this though– it wasn’t healthy for anyone involved and it was seriously time to pull myself together and get back to work - get angry and fuelled and focused on a future without him in it.
How the fuck am I going to do that?
He’s been an integral part of my life for years. Finn adores him.
Crap!
I hadn’t heard from him, but then again, I had ignored each and every one of his calls that Sunday morning, after I’d left his love-nest. I’d ignored the texts and messages late into Sunday night - instead, choosing to turn my phone off and bury my head in disgust at my weakness. I’d just presumed he’d given up chasing after that night. What could he say that would make this any better anyway? I wasn’t prepared to listen to his pack of lies and couldn’t trust myself not to cave at the sound of his voice.
Mr. Blunts' words are raw and full of emotion - they reverberate through my ears, spelling out exactly how I feel - ‘I’m so hollow, baby, I’m so hollow, I’m so, I’m so, I’m so hollow.’
I’m empty.
I’ve lost my best mate and the chance at something real.
I should never have propositioned him in the first place and offered myself on a platter. I knew all along that I was setting myself up for heartbreak. I wasn’t a one-night stand, let alone one-month-proposition kind of girl and with Sebastian, one anything would never be enough; that had already been proven. The man was a master in the bedroom - seriously gifted. No other man would compare after him. No one.
Abby & Suzie had been rocks, rallying round, taking it in turn to ensure that I eat… something - anything! Tomato soup or martyr soup is pretty much the only thing I can stomach apart from chocolate - amazing how that always goes down ok though isn’t it? Yep chocolate and I are like long lost friends - better not fuck this friendship up then.
I know that if I hadn’t had the responsibility of Finn, each night, I’d have hit the serious hard stuff - vodka, gin - alcohol in an abundant overflowing cup that would numb my thoughts and help me forget for a while.
Abby has given up asking if Nathan can pop round to chat to me. “He wants to apologise about you-know-who. He knew of her in Dubai, hunny, but promises that there is more to this story. Please, Lu - let him talk.” She’d winced slightly over the word who. She’d meant Ray of course, or rather Rachel, Sebastian’s dirty little secret. I don’t want to hear it from Nathan; it shouldn’t be him that explains - fuck I don’t want anyone to explain - it’s obvious. He lied to me.
“I can’t talk to Na… yet, Abs – it’s just too soon.” I reply pathetically, before curling up into the foetal position, under a duvet.
“Ok, babe. I’m worried about you though. You’re not eating or sleeping much and you look like shite!”
“Cheers, mate. That’s what best-friends are for - to make you feel better.” I pull the duvet further over my head in a strop.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I’m crap with words. I’m telling you, Lulu, Nathan and I have talked for hours about this and I’m convinced that this has all been a terrible mix-up.”
I remain silent, processing her words. Deep within me I want to hear them.
“I don’t know why Seb let it happen the way it did but to be fair, she turned up, unexpected and you had only just sorted things after the Toni incident. I’m not siding with him but the guy is mad about you - anyone can see that. He was just being a bloke, put on the spot. Just my two-penneth that’s all but he definitely needs to work at it, to win you back, I’m with you there.”
Silence.
I process her words but I’m irritated at her defence of him.
“If you won’t talk to Seb yet, consider Na - he’s on your side babe and he might give you an insight into it all - he is his brother?”
I pull the covers back and peek out, big eyes haunted with nasty memories. Abby was like a dog with a bone. “OK. I’ll see Na when I meet with him for work. But I’m not promising anything!”
“That’s all I can ask, my lovely. Now how about a shower - I love you but it’s time to wash the Winceyette pj’s, take them off here and they’ll walk themselves to the machine.”
I listen to her motherly mutterings, from my cocooned blanket, as she cleans up and opens the curtains, and tuts in exasperation as I hiss like a vampire as the light hits my face. I don’t want to hear an explanation from Nathan. It isn’t his fault, I’m just upset that he hadn’t mentioned that Seb was seeing someone else at the time we were messing around.
I had wanted to hear it from Sebastian on the morning trolly-dolly Ray flew in and wrecked everything. I had wanted to hear him introduce me as his girlfriend to the imposter – to fight for us, and not just stand there like a bloody lemon! I’d needed him to man-up - take control - wasn’t that supposed to be his bloody thing? The only time I’m happy for him to control a situation and he stands back and lets it play out on its own accord.
I think that was what hurt the most, he’d just stood there; that - and the dawning realisation that I’d been right all along – he was not programmed for a serious, monogamous relationship with anyone - even with his best friend - and if he wanted something he always got it, no matter what the cost or who got damaged in the process. He was willing to risk our friendship, to dip his cock in the one pot of honey that proved more of a challenge to him than any other, regardless of the consequences.
I should feel complimented by that part at least, I suppose. But once he’d had me, it was all too sickly and sweet and normal for him, too vanilla – he’d never consider being honest with me, with himself, that it just wasn’t for him, that he wasn’t capable of being tied to just one woman.
God, I sound so bitter and angry and I am utterly devastated by it all – this was totally different to the time when I’d split with my ex, Niall. That had been a rough-ride because of Finn, but I’d felt relief in some respects. I hadn’t ached for the loss of Niall, the way my soul aches for Sebastian.
This time I am… completely… irrefutably… broken.
I’d fallen way too deep, too fast.
I’m broken but deep-down all I want, despite what has happened, is for him to come and put me back together and I hate myself for my weakness.
*****
Finally, after much pressure from Abby and my sister Suzie to snap out of it before Finn figured out anything was seriously adrift, I frame myself and on the morning of day 8 of Armageddon. It was Monday, and an extremely bright and sunny one at that, as I shower, dress for work, drop Finn off at crèche en route and head to work. Those simple daily tasks, usually done in a whirlwind of repetition, drain me to the brink of exhaustion. I’d remembered to leave Finn’s overnight bag with Daisy, his crèche nurse as my Mum and Dad were having him until Wednesday so I could play catch-up. I remind myself to thank Suze for arranging it all, as I couldn’t face talking to Mum yet; she’d know something was wrong immediately - mother’s instinct maybe?
As I struggle through my emotional fog filled with shadowy thoughts of Sebastian, I shake my head in exasperation, each time determined to frame myself and vanquish him from my existence. The longest I’ve managed is 2 minutes. Wow! Sooner or later I’ll have to throw myself back into working on
The Ashton project and I’d need to call Nathan to iron a few things out before progressing. I’m hoping that he’ll then agree to project manage the job on Chris' and Seb’s behalf, as there was no fucking way I’d be dealing with either of those arrogant knob-heads!
Arriving at work, I throw my bag on the desk; click my Mac into life and head to the kitchen for a cuppa. I see Jackie on the phone as I pass, and tap her lightly on the shoulder in hello, causing her to spin energetically on her chair and send me a shocked eyebrow raise, quickly followed by a sympathetic frown. I feel bad eavesdropping but her conversation sounds pretty juicy so I flick the kettle on, and wait by the door for it to boil. I can still hear her gossiping at this range, without it being too obvious; I needed someone else’s nonsense to cloud my own crap, to get me through today.
Baby steps, Lu - you can do this.
“I can’t talk… no… I just can’t! Yes. I’ll sort it. Gotta go.”
Someone had riled Jackie – she didn’t usually raise her voice. I hear the phone rock back into its cradle and busy myself adding a Yorkshire teabag to Jackie’s ‘Screw you’ cup - its makes me smile, the first in a while. I’m stirring the brew, as she enters the kitchen, with a reflective beam on her welcoming face.
“Hey! You’re back.”
I hand her a steaming mug of heavily brewed tea that would make a builder proud and clink my own against it, careful not to spill the hot liquid.
“I’m back,” I nod with a light smirk; and I honestly felt like I was back - in the land of the living.
The One Addicted (The One Trilogy Book 2) Page 2
