by Ember Casey
“As I was trying to say, your father’s heart is very weak. Very weak.” She glances down at her clipboard again. “He’s on the list for a heart transplant, but with medications, he can likely go a few weeks—perhaps even a few months. It should give us enough time to find him a heart.”
My mother closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, almost as though she’s bracing herself for what comes next.
The doctor frowns, looking over at her. “Of greater concern at the moment is that your father’s kidneys are also failing. And his heart is far too weak to undergo dialysis.” She blinks a few times, glancing down at the damn clipboard again.
“What does this mean?” Andrew looks at her before he looks around the room at the rest of us. “What is it you’re saying?”
“What I’m saying is that your father needs a kidney transplant. Immediately. And if we can’t find one within the next day or so, he’s going to die.”
Pax
I feel like death.
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I practically was dead recently, and this feels nothing like that. There are no naked women this time. No weird dreams about Kayla and Abby and searching for Sophia. I just feel exhausted and weak.
I’ve drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes when I wake Sophia is next to my bed, sometimes it’s someone else. It’s a long time before I can keep my eyes open for more than a minute or two, and when I do, I’m relieved to find my wife sitting next to me.
“Hey,” I say, trying to reach for her.
She gives me a weak smile and takes my hand. “You’re awake.”
“It takes more than a little exercise to kill me.” I attempt a grin.
She squeezes my fingers. “I’ve been worried about you.”
I can tell. She looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes, but the rest of her face is pale. She desperately needs some sleep and some food.
“Have you been eating?” I ask her. “And sleeping?”
She gives me a look. “You are the one in the hospital for exhaustion. I’m fine.” Her eyes take on a distant look for a second, and I can’t tell whether she’s thinking about something else or if she’s simply too tired to keep talking. Finally, she says, “What happened out there? What were you doing?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I’m still convinced it might have worked perfectly, under different circumstances. “I just took him for a ride. I had some brandy and snacks set up…a little place we could talk. I was giving him my best charm…” My words trail off. “How is he? Was it his heart?”
“He’s… It was his heart. But that’s not the most pressing thing right now.” She’s not looking at me anymore, and I realize this is what’s weighing on her so much. “His kidneys are failing. He needs a transplant immediately.”
“Oh. Fuck.” I don’t know much about kidney transplants, except what I’ve seen on medical dramas on TV. “Well, he’s the king. He’ll get bumped to the top of the list of people waiting for kidneys, won’t he?”
“That’s not the problem. The problem is finding a match.” She looks at me again, and her eyes are full of tears. “The physician said due to his past medical issues he has a high PRA, which means it’ll be hard to find him a compatible kidney.”
“What about one of your brothers? One of them has to be a match.”
She shakes her head. “They’re testing all of us, but the initial assessment isn’t good. None of us inherited his blood type. This is already going to be so risky—the physician said we need to find as close a match as possible or it won’t do him any good.” She surreptitiously tries to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen, Pax. Andrew is considering making an announcement to the public, asking for volunteers to come forward and be tested… I think we have a lot of good citizens who’d try to help. But it’s still a long shot.”
I squeeze her fingers. “Better a long shot than no shot at all. Don’t lose hope, Sophia.”
She sniffs. “I’m trying not to.”
“For that matter, have them come in here and test me.”
She shakes her head again. “You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.” I lace my fingers through hers. “Besides, I’m already here in a hospital bed. What do I have to lose? If finding him a match is a numbers game, then every person counts.”
She looks at me with those big, expressive eyes, and my heart aches for her. Finally, she rises.
“I’ll go tell the physician,” she says. Then she leans down and kisses me before sweeping out of the room.
Time has a way of going all wonky in hospitals. I’ve had enough experience with it now to say that as a fact. Minutes and hours and even days seem to lose all meaning. It’s just you and the bed and the nurses, punctuated by the occasional meal and, if you’re lucky, visitors. Sophia splits her time between me and her father—at my insistence—so that leaves me a lot of time to lie around. Nurses and doctors come in and out—checking monitors, drawing blood, doing whatever tests they need to do—and I eventually find the remote to the little TV bolted to the wall. I’m amazing to discover that Montovians get channels in at least five different languages, and even though some of those channels are in English, I end up watching some weird German show about a detective. At least I think he’s a detective. He might be a serial killer. Or a spy. It’s hard to tell.
Sophia comes in again when I’ve flipped to a French game show. She glances at the TV as she takes her usual spot beside the bed. She looks more exhausted every time I see her, but no matter how much I badger her to get some rest, she refuses. At least I saw her eat an apple earlier.
For a while, we sit in silence, both too tired to say much. And what is there to say that we haven’t said already? No words will make her feel better about what’s happening to her father. No jokes will lighten her mood. So I just reach over and take her hand and we sit like that for some time.
Eventually, a man in a white coat wanders in. I think I met him earlier, but so many doctors and nurses have come in and out that I can’t remember them all.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” he says to Sophia. “I’m glad you’re here. I have some news about your husband.”
She suddenly goes very stiff, and my stomach sinks. A doctor telling you he has news is rarely a good thing.
But it’s not myself I’m worried about—it’s Sophia. I don’t think she can handle hearing there’s something else wrong with me.
And the doctor seems to be dragging this out, taking his time getting to the point.
“Well?” I say. “Spit it out, man. Am I dying or something?”
The doctor blinks at me, and then frowns. “No, actually. Not at all. I just have news about your donor compatibility test for His Majesty’s kidney.”
Sophia has gone very still. The doctor seems to be waiting for her permission to go on, but I can’t wait that long.
“And?” I prompt.
“And…you’re a match,” he says simply. “Not a perfect match—that’s rare except in the case of identical twins—but as close a match as we can hope for under the circumstances.”
I let that sink in for a minute. “So I can give the king one of my kidneys?”
“Yes, you can. You might be his only hope.”
I glance over at Sophia, grinning. “Well, look at that. It worked out.”
But Sophia doesn’t look happy. If anything, she looks scared.
“I didn’t think you would actually be…” She turns back to the doctor. “Is it okay for him to do it after everything he’s been through? He was just shot a few months ago.”
“There’s always some risk involved in surgery,” the doctor replies. “But we’ve been monitoring Mr. Donovan closely. His vital signs are good. He’s as strong as a horse.”
“Hear that?” My grin widens. “Strong as a horse. I always thought so.”
Sophia still looks worried, though, so I squeeze her hand.
&nbs
p; “I want to do this, Sophia.”
“But why? Why risk your life for my father? He’s always been so cruel to you. Why do this for him?”
“He’s only been hard on me because he wants to protect you,” I reply. “But anyway, I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing this for you.” I cock my head. “Though if doing this can get me out of wearing a stiff, uncomfortable suit at our wedding, I’ll take that, too. Do you think if I go through with this he’ll cut me some slack?”
She doesn’t seem impressed with my jokes at a time like this, but I don’t care. I’ve already made up my mind.
“I’m doing it,” I tell the doctor firmly. “Just tell me what to do next.”
Sophia
The doctor stares at him for a long moment, finally turning his gaze to me. “This is a dangerous operation, even if the donor isn’t in poor health.”
“I’m not in poor health,” Pax says. “I’m healthy as a horse.”
I lift a brow. “You’re in the hospital. I’d hardly say you’re healthy.”
“Only because I carried your father for—what? Fifteen or twenty miles?”
I try not to roll my eyes, but I can’t help but heave a slight sigh. “Even if you weren’t exaggerating—”
“I’m not exaggerating,” he interrupts with a grin. “Besides, I want to do it.”
The physician’s brow furrows. “The danger really has very little to do with your bout with exhaustion.” He pauses, frowning. “You sustained a grave injury only a few months ago. One that nearly killed you.”
“But it didn’t.” Pax shrugs. “And it’ll take a lot more than losing a stupid kidney to kill me now.”
“Pax…” I don’t even know what to say. I love my father, no matter how awful he’s been to my husband, and I truly don’t want to see him die. But I don’t want Pax to die, either. And just the thought of Pax giving so much for my father… I’m not sure I can live with myself either way.
“Seriously, I don’t see what the big deal is, Sophia.”
“The big deal is…” I frown—I can’t believe how nonchalant he’s being about this. “It’s your kidney, Pax.”
“And I have two, don’t I?” He looks up at the physician. “Isn’t that why you get two? To give one away?”
The doctor cocks his head. “Hardly—”
“I mean, I know that isn’t really why.” Pax straightens in his bed. “But it’s mine to give away, isn’t it?”
The physician takes the seat on the opposite side of the bed. “I have to tell you of the risks, Mr. Donovan. And I’d suggest you take this very seriously.”
He starts to list all the things that could go wrong, starting with blood loss and ending with death.
“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t.”
“Sophia…” Pax turns to me, taking my hand in his. “I can promise you, I’m not going to die.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” Tears well in my eyes. “And there’s no way you can know—”
“But I do.” He looks into my eyes, his expression turning serious. “I do. Sophia, it’s going to take so much more than this to take me away from you. I don’t know how I know, but I know. This is the right thing to do. For everyone.”
Our gaze never breaks. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but whatever it is making him so sure that this is the right thing has some way of calming every fear I have.
“I love you, Sophia. There’s nothing that can happen to me that will ever change that.”
“I love you, Pax. And I swear, if you die, I’m going to kill you.”
He stares at me for a moment longer before we both begin to laugh. “And I promise you that if I die, I’ll let you kill me any way you want.”
My father and Pax have been in surgery for hours—hours longer than they told us it would be. The family has all gathered in the private waiting room again. Nicholas and William are playing cards in the corner. Leo and Elle take turns walking about with their baby. Andrew is pretending to stay busy on the opposite side of the room, fiddling with his phone. And my mother hasn’t left my side since the procedure began.
She holds my hand, and it’s almost like we’re holding each other for dear life. I’d never understood fully what she must have gone through each time my father has fallen ill, but I do now. It seems like I don’t really even need to explain the wrenching in my chest—just the way she holds my hand tells me she’s feeling the same thing.
My mother finally tips her head to whisper into my ear. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
For how long this is taking, she means. I merely nod, trying not to lose it in front of my family, though I’m barely holding it together. I’m not so sure how my mother is managing, either.
“He’s a good man.” My mother smiles at me. “Your husband.” She nods a few times. “I can’t imagine many people would have given this gift so freely.”
I look at her for a few seconds, and I can’t help but wonder for the briefest of moments if my father would have done the same for Pax. I suppose it’s not really a question I need answering.
My mother gazes into my eyes. “Your husband gave mine the greatest gift another person can give. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he’s thanked properly for it.”
I shake my head. “He wouldn’t want you to.” I squeeze her hand. “But I’m glad you know now why I fell in love with him.”
“I do.” She gives me a small smile. “Not that I ever had any doubt that the man you finally fell in love with would be the most wonderful man in the world.”
Tears fill my eyes. Pax really is the most wonderful man—and the perfect man for me.
Before I can respond, a physician walks in, still in his surgical gown. He pulls down his mask after he enters, glancing around the room before his gaze finally falls on my mother and me.
He frowns. “Your Majesty…Your Highness.” His brow furrows. “His Majesty has made it through the surgery without issue. His new kidney is perfusing, and it looks like he’s going to be fine for now.”
“That’s wonderful news.” My mother smiles, squeezing my hand. “Wonderful news.”
I shake my head. “It isn’t, though, is it?” I look up at the doctor. “Something’s happened to Pax, hasn’t it?”
His frown deepens. “Your husband is awake, Your Highness. But there’s been a…complication.”
Pax
Everything is sort of hazy. There are people around me—lots of people! Lots and lots and lots of people. I try to count them, but I can’t remember how to use numbers. And I think some of the people might be talking to me, but I can’t understand them.
“Speak English, please,” I tell them. “And don’t mumble.” They try again, but they still make no sense. They leave—I think—and other people come in. Then leave. In and out, in and out…it makes me dizzy just trying to keep track of everyone.
There’s someone next to me. A woman. I can tell because she smells good.
“You smell like sunshine,” I say to her. I blink a few times, trying to bring her into focus. She has dark hair. “Very pretty.”
Someone squeezes my hand. The pretty woman. The pretty woman is squeezing my hand. I grin.
“You’re touching me,” I say. “Where are we?”
She says something, and it takes me a few minutes to puzzle it out. The words seem all out of order, but I think she says we’re in a hospital.
“That’s no fun,” I tell her. “We should go somewhere else. Like a bar. Or a picnic! Ladies love picnics.” Will that make the pretty lady like me?
She’s more in focus now. She has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to look away from them. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t pull my thoughts away from her pretty eyes long enough to figure out why.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her. “So beautiful. I like your eyes.”
She smiles slightly, but otherwise she looks upset. Why is the pretty woman so upset?
“Don�
�t cry,” I tell her. “I’ll protect you. You’re safe with me.”
She starts to speak, then cuts herself off. Her gaze goes to someone on the other side of me.
I turn my head, and there’s a very tall man in a white coat standing there. I don’t like him. He’s interrupting my time with this pretty lady.
“Go away,” I tell him. “This is important.”
“So is this,” he says. “You’re still anaconda anaconda anaconda.”
I laugh. Anaconda. I’m not a snake!
The pretty lady squeezes my hand. She smells so good. How do I know her?
“Where am I?” I ask. “I’m not an anaconda.”
“You’re at the hospital, Pax,” the pretty lady says.
Pax. That’s my name! I laugh again. “I told you I wasn’t an anaconda.”
The man in the white coat is talking again, but I don’t bother trying to follow. He obviously has no idea what he’s talking about. Instead, I stare up at the ceiling. It’s very white and clean.
This place doesn’t look familiar. Where am I?
I turn my head, looking and the beautiful woman again. She’s so pretty. And she’s holding my hand. I grin like an idiot as I look at her.
“Pax,” she says gently. “Did you hear any of that?”
“You should say it again,” I tell her. “I like when you talk to me.”
Why does she look so familiar? I wish I could remember. She obviously knows me. She seems to like me.
I’m so lucky.
More people are talking. I think. I just keep staring at her. I want to remember how I know her.
Little by little, it comes back—flashes of memories of her. Of her laughing. Her crying. Her kissing me. Yes, I like that memory…
“You kissed me,” I tell her. “It was nice. Will you kiss me again? If I ask nicely?”
She leans over me, her face creased with worry. “Yes, Pax, but not right now.”
“Why not?” I ask her. “Don’t you like me? I like you.”
Something tickles at the edge of my memory—her name. Soda. Sonia. Sophie—
