by Louise Bay
“I’m going back in there,” Rob said. “You might as well go home. I’ll call with any news.”
I collapsed back into my chair. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”
Rob and Noah exchanged a few words, none of which I could hear from where I was, then Rob headed back to Abigail, and Noah slid into the chair next to mine, his arm snaking around my back and pulling me into him.
“He blames me,” I said. “I know I should have done more.”
“He doesn’t blame you. He’s just worried. You both are. Let’s just see how the tests work out.”
“Do you think she’s going to be okay?” I asked, glancing up at him.
“I think the doctors deal with stressed, pregnant women all the time. You’ll know more soon.”
It was an honest answer even if it wasn’t particularly reassuring, but Noah knew that’s what I needed—facts. Honesty.
“I’m going to grab some coffee. Do you want to come with me?” he asked.
I shook my head and pushed away from his chest. I couldn’t leave. Abigail and I never left each other. We’d been together since conception. I wasn’t about to leave her now when she needed me most. What if something happened? “No thanks.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen, Truly. I wouldn’t leave you if I thought it was going to, you hear me?” It was as if the man could read my every thought.
I nodded and though his words were comforting and I almost believed him, I still wasn’t moving. I just couldn’t risk it.
“I’ll bring you one back. You want something to eat?”
I couldn’t think of anyone I’d ever known who I’d want by my side more than Noah. He was calm, thoughtful, and focused, and it was almost as if just being near him made me a bit more of all those things.
But as much as his presence was soothing, I should have told him to leave and go home. Shouldn’t have been comforted or pleased he was with me. Because he wasn’t with me. And he never would be. I had no one in my life but my sister.
THREE DAYS PASSED in a blur of worry and anxiety. I’d spent most of that time at the hospital, going home just to shower and collect things for Rob and Abigail. Noah had left early on Friday, and I hated that I hadn’t wanted him to go. I didn’t like the fact that his proximity brought me so much comfort. I’d hoped that by now Abigail would have been given the all clear and things would be back to normal. But it was Sunday night and instead of ribbing Rob about his culinary skills, we were listening to my sister’s prognosis.
“Bed rest? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not in the sixteenth century; I’m not going into confinement,” my sister snapped at the doctor. Her sedative had clearly worn off, and Rob thrust his hands through his hair in exasperation. If she wasn’t listening to the doctor, Rob had no chance.
Abigail seemed to be back to normal the next morning and since then had been irritable about having to stay in the hospital while they waited for test results and monitored her.
“Will you just listen to the doctor? You need to take this seriously, Abi,” I snapped back. I wasn’t sure if she was scared or frustrated, but either way, she needed to hear what was being said.
The doctor cleared his throat. “It’s not confinement. I’m not worried about you coming into contact with other people. It’s about controlling your blood pressure—”
“And your temper,” I added.
“And you need to be on your left side to ensure the baby isn’t—” The doctor tried to continue.
“For twenty weeks? You can’t be serious.”
“Abigail.” Rob sighed. “Please let the man finish.”
“I’m afraid I’m very serious. You can ignore what I say, but if you do, I’ll be seeing you back in this ward very shortly and the outcome next time might be very different. We’ve caught this early, but we can’t be complacent.”
“But I’ll go crazy! Twenty weeks of being in bed? What if I stayed off my feet most of the day? Surely I could go out to dinner or pop out at lunch to give a presentation or a speech or something?”
“Abi, the foundation will be fine,” I said, lying through my teeth. “No speeches or presentations for you.”
“In my medical opinion, you can go to the bathroom, have a shower—even take a walk around the garden a couple of times a day as long as you’re feeling up to it. But that’s it.”
My sister’s eyes filled with tears. “But what about the spinal center—”
Rob turned to Abigail. “You need to listen to him. This is serious stuff. You can’t be risking your life and the life of our child because you want to go to some fucking awards dinner.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows, and I patted Rob on the arm, trying to calm him. “It’s okay,” I said. “Abigail is going to do exactly what the doctor said, aren’t you?” I grabbed my sister’s hand. “I’ll handle the foundation.”
I didn’t know what I was going to do or how I was going to do it, but I knew Abigail wasn’t part of the solution. “And anyway, you’ve been telling me I need to broaden my horizons—this will be the perfect opportunity. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned this.” I squeezed her hand.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice wobbling—vulnerability breaking through her tough exterior.
My stomach flipped as I realized she’d been waiting for someone else to be stronger, for me to step in, take the burden from her, be the older twin. “I’m surer than sure.” I wasn’t certain about anything other than I wanted my sister and her baby to be better. But for the first time in my life, I had to be the one who led the way for Abigail and me. I had to show her there was nothing to be worried about.
“Thanks, Truly,” Rob said, shooting me a relieved smile. We were all on the same side. All wanted the same outcome. We just needed to remember it. And I needed to push down the rising panic at the thought of having to handle donors, presentations, lunches and dinners. What choice did I have? People were counting on me. As I thought about the task in front of me, it was as if an anvil was weighing down on my chest and every time I breathed it got a little heavier. I pressed the heel of my hand against my breast bone, trying to relieve the weight.
“The nurse will take you through your medication schedule and you can leave as soon as they’ve discharged you, but any change in blood pressure, dizziness, sudden bloating, or pain, I want you to come straight back.”
“My own bed,” Abigail said. “Thank heaven for small mercies.” She looked up at me, worry darting across her face.
“Everything’s going to be just fine,” I said, assuring both of us. Because I might be about to have a panic attack, but as long as Abigail was okay then nothing else mattered.
EIGHT
Noah
“Thanks for the other night. Calling the ambulance, coming to the hospital. Means a lot,” Rob said, handing me a beer from the fridge. I’d dropped around after my meetings had finished for the day to check on Abigail. Three days out of hospital and she was still in bed, adjusting to her new normal.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I think you kept us all calm.” He blew out a breath and slumped on the sofa at the far end of the kitchen.
“How is she?” I asked before tipping back my beer.
“She tells me fine, but I never really know. I think she got a scare and she’s behaving herself at the moment. But I don’t want to get my hopes up that she’s going to stay in bed for five months.”
“She’ll do what’s best for the baby, I’m sure.”
A bang at the bottom of the stairs caught our attention, and we both snapped our heads around.
“Are you okay?” Rob called out.
“Yeah, I just tripped,” Truly said as she came through the door, her hair wet. She was carrying a pair of scissors and a comb. I hadn’t realized she was here, and maybe I was imagining it, but it seemed as though she was avoiding meeting my eyes.
When I’d returned from the US, I hadn’t imagined her as
part of the picture back in London as I had Rob and Abigail. It was as if she disappeared from the world, from my brain, while I’d been in New York, but now she was back and I remembered all the time we’d spent together since the wedding and before I’d gone to New York. I should have made more of an effort to keep in touch. I liked her. She was clever and funny and passionate about things she believed in. As well as being warm and thoughtful—someone I enjoyed listening to and sharing my deepest thoughts with.
How could I have forgotten all of that? And why hadn’t I tried harder to keep our connection?
“Oh, hi,” she said.
I smiled and tipped my beer at her. She pulled back her hair, which showed off her almond-shaped eyes and perfect, full mouth. A memory flashed into my head of her laughing on her sofa as we both ate Chinese takeaway. She’d been my first and only woman friend. She always captured my interest in a way I never quite understood.
“Why is your hair wet?” Rob asked.
“I have to cut it—it’s easier this way.”
“You’re going to cut your own hair?” I asked. Truly had never taken much notice of how she looked. I appreciated that she preferred not to wear makeup. It was one of her many quirks that drew me to her.
“I have a donor lunch tomorrow and my hair is just . . . Rob, will you do it? Just straight along the bottom. My hands are shaking and I have to go through these.” She pulled a bunch of index cards from her back pocket.
“No fucking way,” Rob replied. “Why don’t you go to a hairdresser?”
“I have no time, and anyway, I always cut my own hair.” She grabbed an oak stool from the breakfast bar and placed it in front of us. “Please. It’s just a straight line.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “I’m three beers in. You’ll end up with a scalping. Noah will do it. He just arrived.”
“Fine,” she said, dumping the scissors and comb next to me on the sofa and hopping onto the stool.
I slid my beer onto the coffee table and grabbed the comb and scissors. I was no hairdresser, but at least I hadn’t finished my first beer.
As I moved closer, she kept her eyes studiously fixed on the cards in front of her. “Ian Chance. CEO of Langham Foods. Total donation of thirty thousand pounds, and last year they had a charity bake off to raise money.” She held up the card to show Rob as if he were going to call her out if she was wrong. “Three daughters, Chelsea, Marian, and Elizabeth—”
“This is one of the people at lunch tomorrow?” I asked as I hovered behind her. Her hair was almost down to her waist, ebony black and silky smooth despite the curls beginning to reform and reshape. I paused. Somehow it felt odd to be this close. Inappropriate. Intimate.
“Yeah. Abi has all their details on index cards, and I need to memorize them. I’ve done four. I have another six to do.” She shuffled on her stool.
“Have you met this guy?” I asked, pulling the comb through her hair, the scent of coconut wrapping around me.
“No, I rarely meet donors. That’s all Abigail.”
“Then why would Ian expect you to know personal details like his daughters’ names? You’re not going to pretend to be Abigail. Dress up like her. You just need to do her job.”
She turned on her stool to face me, a grin spreading over her face. “Good point. I need to know the professional stuff, but not things only Abi would know.” The huge, warm grin on her face created a mixture of pride and fear in my gut. But fear of what? I wasn’t afraid of anything. Not anymore. Not since the accident.
I stepped back. I really shouldn’t be cutting her hair. I was going to end up fucking it up or something.
I pulled my phone from my pocket.
“Hey,” she said, nodding at the comb in my free hand.
“Just a second. I have a solution.” I pulled up the number of the woman I used in New York to sort out my wardrobe. I hated shopping, and Veronica ensured I never had to do it. “Veronica, it’s Noah. I need a hairdresser.” I told her it was for a woman, gave her Rob and Abi’s address, and she assured me she’d have someone around within the hour.
I hung up and headed back to the sofa, scooping up my beer on the way.
“What just happened?” Truly asked.
“Oh, I’ve arranged a hairdresser. I think it’s better for you to have a professional cut your hair.”
She smoothed her hand over her head. “And what? You just ordered a hairdresser at eight at night? Just like that?”
“He’s rich now,” Rob said. “That’s what happens. Everyone is at his beck and call.”
“It’s not like that,” I said, though I supposed it was a little like that. “I just made a call. It’s no big deal.” Money made a lot of things about being in London different this time—where I lived, what I wore, the fact I could get a hairdresser at eight at night. But not who I was.
“Is this an ex-girlfriend of yours who’s going to show up brandishing sharp objects?” Truly asked, her face entirely serious.
I grinned. “No. I called someone in New York. She has contacts.” There was no way I was going to admit I had a stylist—Rob wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. The fact was, I’d gotten pretty comfortable with my money, but I wasn’t sure how comfortable those who knew me before my success would be with it. So, I hadn’t employed a driver and I’d just taken on a personal assistant. And although my flat was a penthouse in one of the best parts of London, I’d been careful not to buy anything too big or extravagant.
“Right,” Truly said, turning away from me. “Someone in New York. At least my hair will look okay. I still don’t have anything to wear. I presume not a jumper, right?”
Jesus, she was out of her depth. “Definitely not a jumper. Do you have a dress and jacket?”
She looked at me as if I’d just asked her to down a pint of camel’s blood. “You think I need a dress and jacket?” She slipped off the stool and began to pace in front of us. “I have black trousers. And I thought I’d wear them with a shirt. I have a white one that’s fairly new.” She grimaced. “Although that one might have a curry stain on it. Shit. I don’t think I can do this.” She balled her hands into fists. “I’m just not prepared. I’m going to have to cancel or call in sick or something—”
“Do you have a jacket?” I asked. “That would go with the trousers.”
She grimaced. “Rob, Abigail will have stuff in her wardrobe. I’m going to have to raid it. And perhaps she can help me shop for some stuff online.”
“No!” Rob slammed his beer bottle on the coffee table in front of him. “There’s no way that’s going to happen. I don’t want her thinking about work or worrying that you’re not going to cope. You’re just going to have to handle it.”
Truly stopped pacing and rubbed her hands over her face. “Mason and Kelly will have to take over. Tomorrow they’ll have to pick up as many of Abi’s engagements as possible but—”
“Wait, what?” I asked before I could think about what I was saying. This was none of my business, but those kids at the rehab center deserved the chance I’d gotten, and getting others to fill in was not the way to raise twenty-five-million pounds.
“Mason and Kelly. You don’t know them, but they’re outgoing and upbeat and they can handle most of this social stuff.”
“But this isn’t social stuff.” I shuffled forward in my seat. “It’s business. Big donors, big supporters of the foundation are going to want to see someone at the top. Someone with the Harbury name.”
“But I just have too much to do, and I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t even have a smart outfit for tomorrow—”
“There’s no point in having a fantastic back office if you have no money to count or spend.”
She perched on her stool and then stood up again. “You think donors won’t write checks if I’m not at the lunch or dinner or whatever?”
“I’m saying you won’t even get them in the door—they’ll cancel.”
“I hate to say it but I think he has a point,” Rob replied, taking ano
ther swig of beer. “I think Abigail would prefer you to be at these things rather than . . . whoever you said. But you can’t ask—she’s off limits. All she needs to know is that everything’s fine and it’s all being handled.”
“But it’s still the same foundation, the same good causes. Who could argue with the rehab center? You’ve both been there, right? They’re desperate.”
Truly was the cleverest woman I’d ever met, but she was also one of the most naïve. It was times like this that I thought maybe it was deliberate. She shut herself away so she didn’t have to face stuff. “This isn’t about good causes. Tell me why you don’t go to work in yoga pants and a Star Wars t-shirt?”
She blushed. “Well, I want to appear professional. I mean, a little more than having Yoda on my chest. I know I don’t dress like Abigail in the office—”
“But it shouldn’t matter what you wear, should it? I mean, you’re still Truly—whip smart and a tough negotiator, at least when dealing with your sister.”
“So, you’re saying it’s about appearances?”
“You know that people don’t make decisions based on logic and reason. People give money to charity to make themselves feel good. They want to feel special and appreciated—like they matter. If you fob them off on some junior member of the team, they’ll just move on to the next charity who’ll treat them like they just cured cancer.”
Her shoulders slumped as she assimilated what I was saying. “I can’t do two jobs. It’s just impossible. And Mason and—”
“Forget about Mason and whoever the fuck else you’ve lined up.” My beer landed on the table with a slam I hadn’t intended. Truly jumped, but I wasn’t backing off until I’d said what I felt. I knew how important the foundation was to her and Abi, and I didn’t want her making a gigantic mistake that would jeopardize it. “You’re going to have to do every meeting, presentation, or dinner that Abi had lined up. Delegate the financial stuff—recruit someone.”