by Cat Grant
"Allison!” Nick loomed over her, shaking her shoulder so hard he nearly dislocated it. “C'mon, wake up! Something's wrong with Eric!"
She rushed to Nick's room to find Eric curled up in a ball on the bed, both arms crossed tightly over his chest. When she knelt beside him, she saw that he was deathly pale, his lips outlined in blue. He tried to speak, but the awful pain contorting his features prevented it.
"It's okay,” she whispered, caressing his face, trying to calm him. “I'm here. You're going to be fine.” Turning to Nick, she whispered, “Get me a cool rag, and then go get Dalton!"
Nick returned shortly, with Holden, not Dalton, in tow. Luckily, he appeared well-versed in emergency medical procedures, and within a few minutes he had Eric resting flat on his back and breathing more freely, though he still seemed to be in a fair amount of discomfort.
"I think he's suffered a heart attack, ma'am,” Holden informed her. “We should get him to the hospital as quickly as we can."
Her mind froze for a few moments—before sheer terror set in. “B-But ... Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"
"We're fifty miles from the closest hospital,” Holden replied. “I doubt they could get an ambulance out here this time of night. I'd recommend that we transport him in the SUV."
"All right, we'll get him ready,” Nick cut in. “Bring the car around."
They wrapped Eric in a soft, warm blanket, and between Nick and Holden, they managed to carry him downstairs, laying him gently in the back seat of the SUV. Ally climbed in with him and held his head in her lap, bathing his face with the cool rag as they sailed along the rough country road. His color was better now, his breathing calmer and more even, though she could still feel his heart racing when she touched the pulse in his throat.
"I'll be fine,” Eric whispered, taking her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.
Nick cast her a glance from the front passenger's seat, and they exchanged anxious looks. It would take them over an hour to reach the hospital, according to Holden. But Eric was a fighter. Ally had never known anyone with such a strong force of will. She prayed that this time it wouldn't fail him.
* * * *
They reached the hospital around three in the morning. The emergency room staff took one look at Eric and rushed him directly inside, telling Ally and Nick to wait in the family lounge. At least, that's what she thought they said—none of the nurses appeared to speak or understand much English.
Holden posted himself outside the emergency room door, and while Ally thought he was taking his duties a bit too seriously, she wasn't inclined to protest. Nick brought her some coffee from the vending machine down the hall, but after one tasteless, lukewarm sip, she set it aside.
"It's not your fault,” Nick murmured. “He's been driving himself like a maniac for months. I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner."
"I'm not,” she replied darkly. “I should've seen it coming when I found that high-blood pressure medicine. I should've demanded that he skip that emergency session and—"
"And we both know how well that would've worked out.” He shook his head. “Stop beating yourself up about it. There's nothing either of us could have done."
She didn't believe that, but it was futile to argue the point. Besides, she had plenty of other things to beat herself up about. “I-I suppose I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
"Oh, c'mon, like you have to ask?” How it hurt remembering that afternoon, especially the awful look of betrayal in Eric's eyes when she'd admitted her idiotic mistake. “Nick, you have to believe me, I didn't know Adrianna was a reporter."
"God, Allison, that's the last thing I'm worried about right now!"
"I know, but Eric was right. I should've picked up on it. I should've seen the red flags waving a mile off.” She sighed. “She knew exactly how to push my buttons. It was fucking uncanny."
"She might've had some help.” Lowering his voice, he leaned in closer. “Dalton wasn't there when I went down to the staff quarters tonight. Holden said he took off late Saturday afternoon and he hadn't seen him since."
Just then the emergency room doors swung open, and a tall, dark-haired man in green surgeon's scrubs emerged. He didn't speak much more English than the nurses, but with an animated waving of hands, he ushered Nick and Ally into the emergency room, where Eric lay hooked up to half a dozen monitors and an IV.
He smiled wanly when he saw them, holding his hand out to grasp each of theirs in turn. His eyes had the glassy, unfocused gaze of someone on heavy sedatives. “See, I told you I'd be fine,” he rasped.
"I think the jury's still out on that,” she muttered to herself, trying to keep from crying again.
"They've stabilized my pulse and blood pressure. In a couple of days they'll transfer me to the American Hospital in Rome and from there I can go home."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Nick said. “Why don't you try resting now, okay?"
"Good idea,” Eric answered, closing his eyes.
The hospital staff bustled around, adjusting Eric's IV and fiddling with the monitors, shooting them both pointed ‘get out of the way’ looks. “We'll come back later,” Ally whispered, bending down to give him a kiss.
Nick did the same, then followed her out into the hallway. “If we're going to be here a couple of days, maybe I should go back to the villa and pick us up some changes of clothing."
"All right, but be careful. For all we know, there's still someone out there with a camera watching us, and the last thing we need is for them to show up here."
He nodded. “I'll get back as soon as I can."
They moved Eric to a private room on the second floor about an hour later. Ally waited impatiently outside while the staff got all his equipment calibrated before going in to sit with him.
He looked much better now, his breathing slow and even, his color close to normal. She gave him some water from a cup sitting at his bedside, then sat down, clasping his hand. She ran her thumb along the inside of his wrist, relieved to discover that his pulse was indeed stronger and more stable. “Don't you ever scare me like that again,” she chided, forcing a tiny smile.
"I'll do my best. And in the interests of that promise, there's something I think you should know.” He blinked hard, obviously trying to fight off the more disorienting effects of the painkiller.
"Eric, we don't have to do this now."
"Yes, we do.” Swallowing, he licked his lips. “A few months ago, I went in for a routine checkup, and my physician ordered some tests. The results didn't come as a complete surprise.” He reached for another sip of water, his hands trembling so badly she had to grab the cup before he dropped it. “I've inherited my mother's heart defect. Since I was a teenager, doctors have been telling me I had a fifty-fifty chance of developing it, though I hoped I'd have a few more years before it manifested."
She stared at him, going completely numb. “Y-You mean you've known you were dying for months now, and y-you didn't tell me?"
"Allison, listen to me. I am not dying.” She nearly burst into hysterical laughter when she heard that, but Eric's calm, insistent tone helped her suppress the urge. “My mother died because her depression defeated her will to fight the disease. As long as I take care of myself, there's no reason I can't live a normal lifespan."
"But you haven't been taking care of yourself."
"That's about to change. This heart attack was my wake-up call. I've been ignoring all the symptoms, hoping the medication alone would fix everything, but it's obviously not enough. So I'm willing to make any lifestyle adjustments necessary to ensure that I live to a ripe old age with you and Nick by my side.” He grinned, kissing her hand. “How's that sound?"
"Like something I've waited to hear ever since you moved to Washington."
"Good,” he said softly.
* * * *
They talked until Eric grew drowsy again, and Ally went back down to the lounge to wait for Nick. He arrived a little while later, a small trave
l bag and his laptop tucked under his arm. “What did you bring the computer for?” she asked.
"Looks like we were right on the money where Dalton's concerned,” he said, booting it up. “I searched the staff quarters when I got back. He took most of his stuff with him, but I guess he packed in a pretty big hurry, because he left this behind.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flash drive. “Wait till you see what's on it."
It contained the original digital photos from the various tabloids, and a few more besides—all featuring Ally and Nick cavorting nude on the terrace. Fortunately, they'd been taken from distance, leaving their faces blurry and indistinct. “Jesus,” she breathed.
Nick nodded. “After I found this, I checked the phones—and yes, they were bugged. He must've been siphoning Adrianna all the information she needed."
"No wonder she was so good at cuing me. He must've been tracking the GPS in the Mercedes. That's how she found me at the hotel."
"They set us up, big time."
She let out a mirthless laugh. “I suppose that should make me feel better, but it doesn't."
Powering down his laptop, he shut it and set it aside. “You know, when I first saw those tabloids, I didn't know whether to be more shocked or scared. But once that all wore off ... Honestly, I was relieved.” He rubbed his mouth, letting out a rueful chuckle. “When Eric came out last year, I thought everything would change. But nothing changed, not really. I was still the dirty little secret—only now I had two people who were ashamed to be seen out in public with me."
"Nick, I was never ashamed of you! It's just that Eric wouldn't let me—"
"Since when has that made any difference? You go off and do whatever you want anyway, and then you're amazed when it blows up in your face. We probably wouldn't be sitting here right now if you two would just talk to each other."
She stared at him, stunned. “Wh-What brought this on so suddenly?"
"It's not sudden. It's been bothering me for a while now. Every time you and Eric fight, I'm the one who has to step in and play peacemaker. It's not fair to me, Allison. I'm tired of it."
A sharp retort rose to her lips, but the painful realization that he was right quickly quelled it. She'd been so absorbed in her own stupid angst lately, it had never occurred to her to consider the situation from Nick's perspective. “I'm not your enemy here, you know,” she said quietly. “But if I've been taking you for granted, I'm sorry."
Sliding closer, he put his arm around her. “Look, I didn't mean to go off on you like that, but this has been tearing me up for weeks. I had to say something.” He sighed. “I don't want to be caught in the middle anymore. You and Eric are going to have to learn to settle your differences without me."
* * * *
By the next morning, Eric's condition had stabilized to the point that they decided to transfer him to Rome that afternoon. Ally rode along with him in the helicopter, with Nick staying behind to close down the villa. He'd load up the SUV with the rest of their luggage and join her at her hotel later than evening.
He showed up nearly two hours late. When Ally opened the suite door to let him in, he looked like he'd been sucked through an industrial fan. “Heavy traffic?” she asked, grabbing one of her bags from him, then kicking the door shut.
"Geez, when was the last time you looked outside? There are paparazzi all over the front steps!"
She dashed over to the window and peered down, heart sinking at the sight of the sizable throng. “Damn! Somebody at the front desk must've tipped them off."
"Well, it's a good thing I can't understand Italian, or a whole bunch of them would've ended up with black eyes. This one guy almost tore my shirt off!"
"Look, if I'd known they were out there, I would've called to warn you. I'll have Holden escort us out through the basement and garage tomorrow when we go visit Eric. Five-star hotels are used to VIPs taking short cuts through service areas to avoid harassment."
He collapsed on the couch, eyeing her wearily. “You've done this before."
"Yeah, well...” She glanced out the window again, her heart sinking. “Looks like we'd better get used to it."
* * * *
Eric showed remarkable improvement over the course of the next week. He was already out of bed and pacing the hallways, brimming with restless energy. His new doctor, an ex-military man with a brisk, no-nonsense attitude, told Ally that if his recovery continued at its current pace, he could go home by the end of the following week.
"How long should he convalesce once I get him back to New York?” she asked.
"The usual minimum after a coronary is eight to twelve weeks."
"Well, I doubt I'll be able to keep him housebound for that long."
"I'd advise you to do your best. His attack was a fairly mild one as these things go, but if he returns to work before he's fully recovered, it could—and probably will—have detrimental effects on his future health."
"You mean he could have another attack?"
The doctor nodded. “I've seen it too many times before, especially in patients with your husband's particular ailment. They tell themselves they'll take it easy, but then after a few months they start feeling good as new, and pretty soon they fall back into their old habits, and then—bam!” He slammed a fist into his palm for emphasis. “And I can tell you with a fair amount of certainty that most of them don't survive another attack."
"Do you really think that's likely? He's only thirty-five years old!"
He shrugged. “It could happen again next year, or in ten years, or never. It's all contingent on how committed he is to his recovery. Doctors can only do so much."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 14
Three Tickets to Paradise:
Heading Home
Ten days later, they boarded the Courtland Industries jet back to Manhattan. Ally hired a private-duty nurse to make the flight with them, over Eric's vociferous protests. She wasn't about to let a random fluctuation in cabin pressure set him back to where he'd been two weeks ago.
Luckily, their flight proved uneventful, and they arrived at JFK slightly ahead of schedule. She had a wheelchair waiting for Eric at the gate; he fixed it with a baleful glare the moment he saw it, though he climbed into it without saying a word.
A good-sized crowd lay in wait when they came up the ramp into the terminal, screaming and holding up signs with disgusting hate slogans scrawled across them. It was like being slapped in the face by a hundred people at once. Something came hurtling at her from the front of the mob, and Nick darted in front of her, shielding her from it with his body.
Holden and airport security hustled them out of there fairly quickly, ushering them through a maze of corridors to the customs office, and then, after a routine luggage inspection, out to the waiting limo.
The long flight had caught up with Eric at last, and he nodded off with his head on Ally's shoulder. Nick sat directly across from her, his jaw clenched tightly. “I wasn't expecting anything like that,” he said, “not here at home."
"You have too much faith in people, Nick. The vast majority of them are ignorant jerks.” Suddenly she sniffed something so acrid and pungent, it set her nostrils burning. “What's that? It smells like a urinal."
Nick held out his sleeve, soaked in a dark, reeking stain. “That's because one of those jerks threw a bottle of piss at us."
"Oh, my God!"
He grunted and spent the rest of the ride staring out the window. He didn't say another word until they reached the penthouse, when he mumbled good night and stomped off to his room, leaving Ally to get Eric ready for bed by herself.
Eric didn't seem to need much help, though he got dizzy whenever he bent over too quickly, so she had him sit down on the edge of the bed to put on his pajama bottoms. “You know, we could just dispense with these altogether,” he rasped, flopping back on the bed, momentarily out of breath.
"Then where's the fun of me getting you out of them again?"
His
eyes lit up and he couldn't scramble under the covers fast enough. She disappeared into the bathroom to finish her evening ablutions, expecting to find him conked out by the time she got back, but instead he was still wide awake, patting her side of the comforter.
She slid in next to him with a happy giggle. But when he pulled her close and kissed her with passionate fervor, she became distinctly uneasy. “Don't you think it's a little too soon for this?"
"Why not? I feel up to it.” And he meant that literally, if the significant bulge pressed against her thigh was any indication. “Don't you?"
God, did she! The past two weeks had blown by in such an exhausting, insane whirlwind she hadn't even had time to pay a visit to Nick's bed. In fact, she'd been so consumed with worry for Eric she'd barely slept. She'd hoped that once she got home, she could finally relax—but not if she caused Eric to have a relapse. “I think we should wait. Remember what your doctor said about avoiding unnecessary exertion?"
He stared down at her. “You think I'm too sick to make love to you."
"Eric, no, that's not what I—"
"Good night,” he snapped, turning over and flicking off the light.
Eric dropped off in five minutes, but she lay there staring at the ceiling until the clock read two. At last she gave up and padded into the living room, where she found Nick stretched out on the couch channel-surfing. He glared at her, then scooted over so she could sit down.
"I called my mom tonight,” he said. “She's had reporters camped out in her driveway for the past week. She can't even go to the grocery store without them following her."
If he were trying to make her feel guilty, he'd hit a bull's-eye. “I'm sure Eric wouldn't mind if she stayed at the lake house. No one will bother her there."
"That's not the point! This is our mess. It shouldn't have to ruin her life too."