‘Finn, dude, what gives? We’re on a empty road, you hit some ice or something?’
‘I.. I think so,’ he replies. There’s an unsure look on his white, powder-covered face. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘You don’t remember?’ I say. ‘What are you, drunk?’
‘No,’ Finn replies quickly. ‘Of course not.’
I was being sarcastic but suddenly we’re all a little suspicious.
‘Catch this,’ Dylan says quickly as he tosses his iPhone in Finn’s direction. Finn, who is appearing more and more obviously drunk by the second, doesn’t even have time to look in Dylan’s direction before the phone smacks him in the face.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he shrieks as he claps his hands over his mouth where the phone struck him.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I scream at him. ‘You’re driving us late at night, through a blizzard, and you’re drunk.’
‘It’s OK, Mia,’ Dylan assures me, rubbing my shoulders gently to keep me warm. ‘I’ll sort this.’
‘We gotta make this go away, dude,’ Zander says. ‘Our career is just getting going, we can’t have a scandal like this. Dylan, the press will have a field day with you. And you…’ Zander points at me. ‘Doesn’t look great for you, driving around at night with a bunch of musicians.’
I feel my eyebrows shoot up.
‘Fuck you,’ I say. ‘Fuck you and your drunk-driving fucking bandmate.’
‘Come on, Dylan, help us out,’ Finn says. ‘You can make this go away.’
Dylan looks at me.
‘Dill, you can’t just cover this up,’ I say quietly. ‘Look at you. I can see the pain on your face every time you move, my ankle is hurting – we both need to get to hospital and when we do they’re going to ask questions.’
‘She’s right, man,’ Dylan tells them.
It’s so cold my teeth begin to chatter.
‘We could say you were driving,’ Finn suggests.
‘Me?’ I squeak.
‘Yeah, you don’t have as much to lose,’ he replies.
‘I’m drunk, not insured to drive this car and I don’t even have a licence,’ I tell him.
‘Enough,’ Dylan shouts. He pushes through his pain to grab his phone from the floor and dials 999, requesting the appropriate emergency services.
‘I’m fucked,’ Finn cries. ‘Fucked.’
As the Ganzás boys panic about their future, Dylan leads me away from them and sits me down on a wall. Without a moment’s thought he takes off one of his socks, fills it with snow and holds it against my ankle.
‘Mia, I never would’ve let you get in the car if I’d known he was drunk,’ he says seriously. ‘I never would’ve got in myself.’
I place a hand lightly on his cold face.
‘I know,’ I assure him. ‘This isn’t your fault. And I’ll make sure everyone knows it.’
‘This is gonna be all over the fucking news,’ he says with a sigh.
It’s a weird night tonight, out here on this road, with no one around. He’s lucky he crashed by a park, with no buildings or people around, or this could have been a lot worse. It’s somehow simultaneously pitch-black and so light out, thanks to all the snow. It’s falling so slowly and gently now, piling up on top of what has already settled, flakes landing in our hair and on our skin, holding their unique formations for a second or two before melting due to our slowly decreasing body heat.
I bend and extend my fingers on my left hand. It hurts a little. In fact it feels kind of swollen. I quickly remove my engagement ring and pop it in my bag. I would hate for my hand to swell up more, and for it to have to be cut off.
Perhaps it was because I’ve been drinking myself, but I can’t believe I got in a car with a drunk person. How did I not realise? Even if he’s only slightly over the limit or whatever, the limit exists for a reason.
The snow turns blue as the flashing lights approach us.
In a flurry of police officers and paramedics, I remember my phone flying out of my hand when we crashed.
I make a move for the car.
‘Miss, please stay away from the vehicle,’ a policeman informs me.
‘I just need my phone,’ I tell him.
‘No, you need to go to hospital and get checked out,’ he corrects me. ‘We will have your phone brought to you when it’s safe.’
Shit. I need to call Leo and let him know I’m OK. I just need to pray he doesn’t find out about this from someone else before I get chance to tell him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Two months ago, if you’d told me I’d be lying here on this table, waiting for an X-ray after being involved in a car accident with three rockstars – one of them driving under the influence – I would’ve laughed in your face. Not even LA Mia had scrapes like this.
‘OK,’ the X-ray technician says, approaching me with her clipboard. ‘I just need to ask you a few quick questions, then we’ll get started.’
‘OK,’ I say softly, before answering her questions on autopilot. I just want to get this over with.
‘When was your last period?’ she asks.
‘Hmm?’ I say, turning to look her in the eye.
‘Your last period,’ she repeats. ‘Do you know when it was?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I tell her. ‘I keep track of it in my phone, but my phone is still in the car.’
‘Well, is there any chance you could be pregnant?’ she asks.
‘Erm… no, I don’t think so.’
‘Would you like to take a test?’ she asks me. ‘To be sure.’
I think for a second. We’re more than halfway through December now, I think, and I definitely had my period just before Halloween because I remember the little jolts of anxiety I felt all evening, because I was wearing a white dress. So I’m expecting one just after Christmas, but did I have one in November? I’m not sure…
‘Have you been trying for a baby?’ she asks me.
‘No.’
‘Have you been practising safe sex?’
‘I haven’t been practising, I’m really good at it,’ I joke awkwardly. ‘There’s no way I could be pregnant. Sorry, my head is just a little bit all over the place since the crash.’
‘So long as you’re sure,’ she replies.
My mind is does somersaults as I’m wheeled back to A&E. It’s the middle of the night, but you’d never know being in here, where there are no windows and busy, wide-awake people everywhere.
I’m waiting to see a doctor, to get my results. I don’t feel too bad. I’m just in pain with my ankle, my chest and my stomach. The doctor I saw thought it safest I be X-rayed to make sure nothing was broken, but she suspects it’s just bruising. Still, I’ll worry myself sick until the second it’s confirmed.
From where I’m lying, I can see a small TV mounted on the wall. They’ve got some rolling news channel on, running a feature on how the homeless survive through Christmas. That’s what you want when you’re in hospital, right? Something to lift your mood…
‘Back to our main story of the morning,’ the reporter starts. ‘For those of you just tuning in, we received word earlier today that pop mega star Dylan King has been involved in a car accident. It’s being reported that, after a party at his house, he and two members of hot new band Ganzás – Finley Collins and Alexander Driscoll – got into a black Range Rover Sport, crashing not long after. We’ll be bringing you more details as we get them. It is being reported, although it has not yet been confirmed, that alcohol may have been a factor in this accident. As we reported earlier, there was one other female passenger involved in the accident. More on this story as it develops.’
‘Oh shit,’ I say out loud to myself.
‘Shit indeed,’ Leo says.
I am so happy to see his face and hear his voice, I immediately burst into tears.
‘Leo,’ I sob, holding my arms out for a cuddle. He gently obliges but his relief to see me OK soon dissolves into anger.
Before
he gets to say anything, the doctor arrives.
‘OK, Mia, so I have your results. Just as we suspected, no broken bones or anything like that. Just bruising to chest and stomach, as is fairly common for someone in a accident who is wearing their seatbelt. It’s not very nice, it will hurt for a while, but obviously you’re in a far better way than you would have been, had you not been wearing your seatbelt. As for the ankle, it’s just bruising, no broken bones or dislocation. I’m thinking perhaps you hit it on something during the crash? Again, it will hurt, but the bruises should clear in a couple of weeks.’
I breathe a sigh of relief.
‘Thank God,’ I say. ‘How are the others?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients with you, Mia,’ the doctor tells me. ‘But I’ve set the wheels in motion for letting you go home. Someone will be along shortly to get you out of that gown, sort out your pain relief and so on. Any questions?’
‘No, thank you for everything,’ I say.
‘OK, I have to go. Please don’t get in cars with drunk people in the future,’ the doctor says sternly as he dashes off.
‘Mia, what the hell were you thinking?’ Leo asks me once we’re alone.
‘Leo, I didn’t know he was drunk. I never would have got in a car with him if I’d known,’ I insist.
‘Could you not tell he was drunk?’
‘He didn’t seem drunk. But I’d only just met the guy, so I didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he seemed drunk for him or not, y’know?’
‘You didn’t know him well, and yet you got in a car with him?’ he replies angrily.
‘Dylan, I promise you, I would never knowingly risk my life like that.’
‘Leo,’ he snaps.
‘What?’
‘Leo,’ he repeats slowly. ‘My name is Leo. Dylan is the one who nearly got you killed.’
‘Shit, sorry,’ I say, reaching for his hand. ‘My head is all over the place.’
‘Where is your engagement ring?’ he asks, noticing it isn’t on my finger.
‘It’s in my bag,’ I tell him. ‘I took it off. My fingers were hurting and kind of swollen.’
Leo runs his hands through his hair as he puffs air from his cheeks.
‘Do my parents know?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he tells me. ‘I got the call at work and rushed straight over.’
Leo is wearing the navy-blue shirt and trousers he usually wears for work. I feel bad he’s had to drive all the way here when I’m fine. Still, I need to get home, I suppose. I just hate to see this look on his face – he looks so disappointed in me. I’ve only seen this look once before, before we got together properly, and it broke my heart then too.
‘I know you’re kinda mad at me…’
‘Kinda mad at you?’ Leo echoes. ‘Mia, I’m furious. You could have got yourself killed.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ I say, starting to feel like a broken record. ‘But… please, I just need you to be nice to me. It’s been a horrible night, I’ve been so scared… Can we do this later?’
‘Shall I go get the car?’ he asks. ‘Bring it to the door so we don’t have to trail you to the far end of the car park?’
‘Please,’ I say.
‘Here’s your phone, by the way. The police officer I spoke to gave it to me.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Back soon,’ he tells me, heading for the door.
I unlock my phone and open up my calendar.
Several large tears roll from my eyes, which I quickly wipe away.
‘It’s the relief of being OK, isn’t it?’ says the lovely nurse who has been looking after me.
‘Yes,’ I lie.
She helps me down from the trolley and sits me in a wheelchair.
‘Let’s go get you your clothes,’ she says as she pushes me.
‘Can I ask you a question, please?’
‘Of course,’ she replies.
‘I took a pregnancy test before my X-ray, just to make sure I wasn’t pregnant,’ I tell her.
‘Sure,’ she replies.
‘It was negative, but I seem to have skipped a period. I just wondered what else can cause that.’
‘Well, one missed period with no other symptoms isn’t really anything to worry about. We all skip one at some point, usually down to lifestyle elements. Have you been stressed or dieting?’
‘Both,’ I tell her.
‘Well, there you go. Try not to worry,’ she reassures me. ‘Wait and see what happens. If you skip another, maybe make an appointment to see your GP and get checked out. How old are you?’
‘I’m 33,’ I reply.
‘Do you have any kids?’
‘No,’ I reply.
‘Well, like I said, wait and see what happens, I’m sure it will turn up.’
She squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.
‘Thanks,’ I reply.
A first I was worried I was pregnant, but now I’m worried something might be wrong with me – I didn’t even think about my fertility. I don’t suppose anyone thinks about it until they need it, do they?
How have things got so messy so quickly? Leo is mad at me, my mum is mad at me – she’ll be even angrier when she finds out about this accident. I don’t know what’s up with me at the moment, but if I don’t figure it out soon, I’m going to drive everyone away.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It’s been a day of talking so far. Lots and lots of talking. First of all, I was woken up by a call from my mother who was, as I predicted, very, very angry. Not just angry, but disappointed. She can’t understand why her ’33-year-old daughter’, who she ‘raised so well’, could have ‘got in a car with drunk men’ and ‘allowed one of them to crash’. Looking back now, of course I wish I hadn’t got in that car, but it really didn’t occur to me for a second that Finn might have been under the influence. Like, why would I assume a person would want to drive his own car while drunk? Risking his own expensive car and his own precious life. Why would that cross my mind? Next up, she laid into me about Debbie. She wanted to know why I’m not taking my wedding planning seriously and why I would be so rude to Debbie. I tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to disrespect her, but she wouldn’t listen. Apparently, if I apologise to Debbie at the party tonight, she’ll reconsider planning my wedding – but why would I want her to do that? I didn’t want her in the first place, so I’m certainly not going to beg her to come back to me, after she flounced off. Finally, my mum also wanted to confirm that I’ll be in attendance at the family Christmas party tonight – I don’t think anything less than a fatal accident (in which I died) would get me out of this family party.
Next up, I had to talk to the police about the accident. I told them everything I knew as Leo watched from the doorway. It was simple enough, telling them what I remembered, and they’re happy Dylan and I had nothing to do with the crash, and that we got in the car in good faith. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to Finn, but I imagine he’s in big trouble.
I’ve also just finished up on the phone with Dylan, who called me to see how I was doing. He has similar injuries, but nothing more serious than bruising. Putting on your seatbelt when you get in a car is just one of those things you do, without really thinking about it, but it was those four seatbelts that saved our lives last night. Without them, who knows what would have happened. I will always, always remember to put my seatbelt on when I get into cars now, and every time I do I will be reminded that I am alive because of them.
Dylan also reminded me that he plans to honour his promise, and open up more about his private life. There are only a few days until Christmas now. I have a lot of information about Dylan, more than I need to write this book… except the important stuff. If I’m going to get everything I need before Christmas, I need to go now and get this last little bit of info so I can crack on, finish the book, and put all this business behind me.
I know I should probably rest up, and try and make things right with Leo, but he c
an hardly talk to me today. So I can stay here, in the dog house, and maybe have a row if I’m lucky, or I can go and do my job – I know which one will benefit us more in the long run.
Moving hurts a little, but it’s not a problem. I’m just quite stiff, which is making getting dressed a little tricky.
‘What are you doing?’ Leo asks from the doorway, wiping his paint-covered hands with an old rag. He must be doing something to the house. He’s always doing something, not that we ever really have anything to show for it.
‘I’m going to work,’ I tell him.
He just laughs, angrily.
‘Don’t you think you should rest? And probably avoid that crowd for a while,’ he suggests.
‘It’s work, Leo. You should probably avoid fires, but it’s your job. And anyway, I’m nearly finished.’
‘You were in a car accident that was his fault. Just take a day off, for God’s sake.’
I stop what I’m doing and stare at him. I don’t know what surprises me more: the fact he’s blaming Dylan or that he thinks he can tell me what to do.
‘This wasn’t Dylan’s fault,’ I tell him. ‘But even if it was, this is work, I need to finish this job so I can get paid and we can buy things like eggshell paint and £600’s worth of flowers.’
Leo just shakes his head.
‘Fine. Go. Don’t forget the party tonight.’
‘I won’t,’ I tell him. ‘I’m going to take some stuff with me so I can get ready and head straight there.’
‘So that’s you out for the rest of the day?’
‘Yeah…’
‘OK, then,’ he says dismissively, heading back downstairs.
For a moment I just sit on the end of our bed, thinking. Why is he so mad at me? I know I was in a bad situation, but it wasn’t my fault, and I’m absolutely fine. No harm done. Why does he have to be mad at me? Why can’t he just go back to loving me?
I get dressed, slowly and carefully, and apply my make-up. As well as my usual face-full, I’ve applied concealer and powder to my chest too, just where you can see my bruises above the top of my off-the-shoulder jumper. You don’t realise just how much damage seatbelts actually do you in the process of saving you. The bruises across my chest and my shoulder are huge, but definitely better than any of the alternatives.
How Not to be a Bride Page 17