My chest tightened. I was sure she meant nothing by it, but saying she wanted the option seemed like she wanted a backup plan in case things didn't work out between us. That could just be my paranoia, though. Things between us had been perfect, and they'd keep being perfect if I had anything to do with it.
"I'll keep the photo," I said. "And in ten years' time, I'll show it to you again. See what you think then."
She smiled. "I'll think the same. You could at least put a filter on it."
"Nope. This is our life, plain and unfiltered."
I grabbed the seat in front of me as the cab driver took a sharp turn.
"I guess you're right," Fiona said. "I've spent so much of my life needing to be perfect, then having that perfection airbrushed and Photoshopped. I can't even remember what I really look like."
I pulled her tighter. "You look fantastic, no matter what," I told her. "You look fantastic first thing in the morning, and you look fantastic fresh out the shower. Even when you drool in your sleep, you look fantastic. Because being you is what fantastic is about."
She smiled, for a second, then that smile turned into a scowl. "I do not drool in my sleep. That's lies."
"Oh, yeah, you do."
She slapped my arm. "You're full of it, Matty. I look like an angel in my sleep, but you snore."
I glanced at her out the corner of my eye. "Yeah, and I probably fart too. I'm a disaster."
Fiona laughed. The sound of her laughter buzzed through me, making me wonder if we'd have time for a quickie when we got back to the hotel. It'd have to be a super-quickie, but this pulse of lust couldn't be denied.
Before I could answer her, the cab driver slammed on the brakes, hurling us forward. My head slammed against the back of the front seat, then I got hurled back as he came to a standstill.
"What the hell?"
I was about to make a crack about arriving alive being better than arriving fast when I realized he'd stopped in the middle of an intersection. A very busy intersection. Cars circled around us, blasting their horns.
Why?
I was about to ask when I saw the truck speeding towards us.
I screamed, pumping my foot where the accelerator would be, as though somehow that would help.
I threw my arms around Fiona, trying to protect her, wanting to hold her so tight that she'd be safe. But she panicked, screaming and trying to open her door. She couldn't get out. We both scrambled, waiting for the cab to move, for this disaster to end.
Then the truck hit the cab, and everything went black.
Matty
I WOKE UP CONFUSED and disoriented. Machines beeped around me, and I had things in my arm. Where the hell was I?
Someone spoke, but I couldn't understand a word they said.
French? I was in Paris.
I tried sitting up. I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, then screamed out as pain shot down my side.
I'd been in a crash, and I was in hospital. I understood that much. The machines, the hard bed, the smell: it all made sense. My head swam but I needed to get out of there. I had a concert to play. If I didn't get to the hotel soon, Damo would be livid.
I tried sitting up and almost screamed out again.
Then it hit me that something much more important was at stake. I searched the room for Fiona, but I was alone.
"Fiona?" I asked, hoping someone here could speak English. It hurt my throat just to say that single word.
The pain of her not being here made the physical pain seem like nothing. I scrambled to get up, ignoring the pangs shooting down my side. Where was she? I needed to make sure she was okay.
A nurse came over and put her hand on my shoulder. "You need to get back into bed," she told me.
Getting back into bed was the least of my worries. I pushed her hand away, but I could barely shake her off. How weak was I?
"Fiona? Where is she?" That hardly sounded like my voice. I wanted to be strong, but my voice came out like a crying child's.
"The woman who was with you?" the nurse asked.
I nodded, afraid to speak again. The nurse didn't answer.
Why didn't she answer? I didn't want to think the worst, but someone had to tell me something.
"Tell me," I said, trying to keep calm. I had to stay calm, otherwise panic would consume me.
"She's in the operating theater," the nurse said.
I inhaled. She was alive. That was good. That was really good. But the operating theater--that told me nothing, really.
I'd get out of this bed, no matter what. As the nurse walked away, I grabbed the hand rail and heaved myself forward. The swimming in my head got worse, but I ignored it. I could sit up. I could swing my legs over the side of the bed. Sure, it hurt, so I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. I slid down and put my feet on the floor.
That was it. Almost there.
Then I put my weight on my feet, and the world spun around me. I couldn't hold my own weight. I reached out for something to grab, but there was only the curtain. That gave me no support at all, and I sank to the floor.
Everything went black again.
After I woke the second time, the first thing I did was try to get out of bed. I'd get out of this room and find Fiona. I had to see her no matter what.
The nurse came running over. A different nurse, this one with a cheeky grin. Her name badge said Mary.
"Sorry," Nurse Mary said. "You have to stay in bed."
"But my girlfriend. I need to see her. Is she okay?"
Memories of the crash came back to me. The truck had struck Fiona's side of the cab. She'd have suffered much more from the impact than I had. I put my hands to my face.
Nurse Mary tsked. "They're operating at the moment. Even if you could get out of bed, you wouldn't be able to go to her."
"Is she going to be okay?"
She picked up a chart and wrote on it. "I can't promise you anything, but she's getting the best medical care. The hospital spoke to someone from your tour, and they said to spare no expense."
I nodded. Thank goodness for that. I didn't want to know about her medical care, though. I wanted to know if she'd be okay. This lack of answers frustrated the hell out of me.
"When will you know?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. As soon as we know anything, though, we'll tell you. Meanwhile, try to rest. You've got a nasty bump on your head and a lot of bruising."
"I'm fine," I told her.
She raised an eyebrow. "Is that your professional medical opinion?"
"Ah, no, but I feel fine. I'm sure getting out of bed won't kill me."
Nurse Mary poured a cup of water and handed it to me. I gulped it down, not realizing how dry my throat was until the water hit it. Before I could argue any more, Damo walked in.
The nurse gasped. I was sure Damo had the kind of presence that made women gasp even if they didn't know who he was, but that nurse knew. She went all starry-eyed staring at him. Then she straightened up her uniform and gave him a wide grin.
Damo ignored her and walked straight to my bedside. "You're awake. That's a good thing," he said.
"Shouldn't you be at the arena?" I asked.
"I'm on my way, but I wanted to check on things here first."
"Sorry about this," I said. "I've screwed up the tour."
"Don't worry about the tour. We can go on tonight without you. The shows in Barcelona, too. Just concentrate on getting better." He grinned. "I might be a slave driver, but I'm not about to force a man out of his hospital bed to go onstage."
Nurse Mary hovered at my bedside. I tried to smile. I didn't want to look weak in front of Damo, but how tough can you look in a hospital bed?
"They won't tell me much about Fiona," I said. I stared down at my hands and tried to stay unemotional.
"I don't think they know much," Damo said. "She got hurt bad. It's going to be tough."
It was damn awkward, being in bed like this, in one of those lousy hospital gowns. I didn't real
ly have much else to say to Damo beyond that. Being alone was best for now.
There was one thing I had to ask him. "Can you keep this out of the press?" I asked. "Not so much about me, but Fiona. I'm not sure she'd want people knowing."
Damo nodded. "I'll do my best. Obviously, it's going to be noticeable that you're not playing, and people will ask questions, but I won't mention her name. It's been pretty low-key that she was with you on tour from the start, so hopefully no one will make the connection. Anyway, I'll go now and let you rest. Everyone sends their best wishes."
He stood up, looking uncomfortable. Hospitals were like that.
"Don't worry about the shows," he said. "Getting better has to be your main focus. I'll call in tomorrow before we leave town."
I nodded. It wasn't the shows I was worried about. It was Fiona.
Damo left.
I preferred being alone. With so many emotions flooding through me, I didn't want anyone around in case I broke down. I sure as hell didn't want to cry in front of Damo.
How was I supposed to rest when Fiona's life hung in the balance? She couldn't be taken from me. Not now. From the first moment I'd set eyes on her, I'd known she was the only woman I'd ever love. I'd fought so hard to be with her. Then, when we'd finally gotten together, this happened. We'd had a few months of perfect happiness, and I'd imagined that happiness stretching on forever.
If Fiona didn't make it, I wasn't sure I wanted to, either. She'd been the focus of my life for as long as I could remember, and I couldn't imagine existing with her gone.
But she would come through this. I had to believe that. She was a fighter, tough as nails. She'd survived so much already.
I turned to face the wall. This had been my fault. I'd been the one to insist on getting a cab back to the hotel. I'd told the driver to speed up. If I'd done as she'd suggested and gone straight to the arena, she'd be fine now.
Instead, I might have destroyed everything. If she didn't survive, it'd be my fault, the same as if I'd killed her with my bare hands. That wasn't something I could live with.
Matty
NOTHING IN MY LIFE had ever been as hard as waiting for word about Fiona. Every footstep in the hallway could be someone bringing news. Every voice. I tried to distract myself, but how do you distract yourself when the one you love is hanging between life and death?
A doctor came in and said I could have the drip removed from my arm. That was something, at least. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been, and I could sit up without getting woozy. Being more lucid, though, just made it harder not to worry.
I rang the bell. I needed an update.
"No news yet," the nurse said. "We'll let you know as soon as we hear."
But what if they didn't? They might get busy and forget about me.
"I need to know the very instant," I said.
She patted my hand. "Of course. In the meantime, is there anyone you need to contact? Your phone is at the desk. I'll get it for you."
My phone had survived intact, but Fiona hadn't? Anger rose in me at the unfairness. I wanted to punch someone, but who could I punch? God? Fate? The cab driver?
I took a deep breath to control that anger, but the effort caused me pain.
I nodded to the nurse. I didn't want to talk to anyone, but there were people who needed to know. Madeline, Fiona's manager, was one. Even with Fiona no longer working, there were business things to be taken care of. The other one was Ash. Ash Savage, my ex-bandmate from back in my pop star days, Fiona's ex-boyfriend and best friend to both of us. Ash didn't just need to know, he'd kill me for not telling him.
The nurse returned with my phone. I stared at it for a long time. There wasn't a crack or even a scratch on the screen. I knew it was stupid, but I hated that phone so much for coming through the accident unscathed.
I turned it on, and the background image came up. The photo we'd been looking at in the cab. It'd seemed so long ago that we'd been standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, Fiona clowning around while I took photos. Now, this might be the last photo I'd ever have of her. I touched the screen, wanting to touch her, not just a photo. Even in the still image, life oozed from her.
I got up Madeline's number but couldn't bring myself to press the button. In the end, I chickened out and sent her a text, telling her I'd update her when I knew more.
Then I brought up Ash's contact. He couldn't be fobbed off with just a text message. Maybe, if I waited a little bit, I'd have concrete news for him.
But I waited and waited, with nothing more to tell.
Later that night, I had to call him. I pressed his number, then almost hung up as it rung. I'd probably go to voice mail, anyway.
"Hey, Matty. What shit have you gotten yourself into now?" he asked. Then he chuckled.
"Ash," I said.
I couldn't say any more. My voice cracked, and I almost lost it.
Ash's chuckling stopped. "Shit, mate, are you okay? You sound like hell. What's happened?"
Sounds buzzed in the background of the call, people talking around him. In the hallway outside my room, a trolley clanged. I shut my eyes. If I didn't say the words, they'd never be real.
"Matty? Matty? Are you there?"
I steadied myself. "It's Fiona," I said.
"Damn. Another bender?" Concern filled his voice. And with Fiona's drug problems in the past, I could understand him jumping to that conclusion.
"No."
I tried to keep talking, but I hated saying the words out loud. I wanted to pretend that Fiona had just popped out to do some shopping, and she'd breeze in the door any minute. I wanted to block out the thought of her somewhere in this hospital, fighting for her life.
"Matty?"
I had to tell Ash. I couldn't call him like this, get him concerned, then not explain.
"We had a crash, and..."
I dropped the phone. I wasn't sure what else to say. Ash kept talking, his voice coming out distant and tinny from the phone on my lap. I had to pick up that phone.
"Ash?"
"Is she..."
"She's in the operating theater now," I told him. "Nobody knows a thing."
He made a sound like he was sucking in his breath. I wasn't sure what else to tell him. There was nothing else.
"Where are you? I'll jump on a plane. I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Paris, but hold off. I'll know more soon."
To my ears, it seemed like someone else was speaking. Someone calm and rational, saying the words I was supposed to say. I kept holding the phone to my ear, but no more words came out. Ash didn't speak, either. The silence buzzed, and while it would've been easier to talk to fill in the void, the effort to form words was beyond me.
"Tell me as soon as you know anything," he said eventually.
"Sure." I hung up and went back to waiting.
There was a crack in the beige wall opposite me. I stared at that crack. If I kept my gaze on it, I wouldn't see the equipment or the curtains or the bed. I wanted to forget I was in hospital. If I could just make my mind go blank, it'd be easier to cope.
I should call my family. I knew they needed to know, but talking to Ash had taken so much out of me. I toyed with the phone, but I knew no matter how much I reassured her, Mom would freak out.
A nurse came in with a tray of food. "Can you eat?" she asked.
I shook my head, then waved for her to take the food away.
"Just a few bites. You really need to have your medication with food."
"Will the medication made me sleep?" I asked.
I didn't want to be out of it. What if there was news and I missed out on it because I was asleep?
The nurse bustled around, putting some pills on a tray for me. "It might make you a little groggy, but you'll be awake. It will help manage the pain, though."
"Surely, you must know something," I said. "It's been hours."
She gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'll call through and see if there's any updates."
I nodded.
She came back a while later. "The doctor will be down to see you soon. She's still not out of danger, but if she's survived this long, there's a good chance. There's extensive damage, but they're doing all they can."
I took my pills, then went back to staring at the crack in the wall. It seemed that was all I had in life. This room had become my entire world, and that world was a prison, keeping me away from Fiona.
Being confined to this bed frustrated the hell out of me. If I could take action, if I could punch someone or yell or even bargain, I would.
Finally, a doctor came to speak to me. "She's out of the operating theater," he said.
I sat up. "So, she's okay?"
"She's not out of the danger zone yet. We need to monitor her for the next few days. She'll be in the ICU."
"I can see her?"
"She won't be awake until tomorrow, and I'm not sure you're well enough."
"I need to see her. I need to be with her." I tried to sit up. "Please."
He slowly shook his head, but he called for the nurse. It took a bit of organizing, but they took me up to Fiona's ward in a wheelchair. I held my breath as they wheeled me in. I wasn't sure what to expect.
Matty
I WANTED TO RUSH TO Fiona, to hold her in my arms, but with all the equipment around her, that would be impossible.
The nurse wheeled me to her bedside, close enough that I could hold her hand. I entwined my fingers in hers. She looked so tiny and frail in that bed with all the machines attached to her. Bandages covered her face and most of her arm.
"Doctor Roche will be here in a minute," the nurse said.
After he came in, Doctor Roche went through Fiona's injuries. I didn't follow most of what he said, but it seemed she'd had her lungs lacerated.
"It was lucky that someone trained in first aid was there to help," he said.
I nodded. I couldn't remember any of that. Why had I blacked out? I should've been aware enough to help her.
"She has other injuries too," he said. "Several dislocated limbs and soft tissue damage to her face. She'll need more surgery when she's strong, and maybe, eventually, plastic surgery for the scarring."
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