by J. S. Luxor
I try to change the subject and focus on the outcome of the pissing contest. “Well, your kickboxing workouts came into good use tonight. You should let your trainer at the gym know how well your moves worked in a live confrontation with a real threat.” I smile with pride at the way Matt saved me tonight. I don’t know how I would have escaped from Michael’s attempt to take me with him.
He nods his head in agreement. “The training took over when I needed it. My trainer, Max, has done a good job of preparing me for action.”
“Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up to protect me?” A cold chill runs through me at the thought that I could be on a plane to Georgia tonight instead of sitting next to my savior on the couch.
Matt narrows his eyes at the idea and attempts to loosen his tie. He’s struggling to undo the knot. I turn to help him by pushing my finger through it. I give the tie a firm tug and then begin undoing the first couple of buttons on his white shirt. Matt takes my hand and stills it. He kisses my palm. I let out a long breath of relief. Then, I kiss his tense neck and shoulder.
“What cued you in on the idea that I might be in trouble?” I ask as I take my hand and massage his shoulder.
“I tried texting, emailing and calling you…all in the space of five minutes. When you didn’t respond to any of my communication, I drove to your office without another second’s hesitation. I called Rush when I arrived outside.” He explains with a hoarse voice. Matt must have been panicked.
“Your timing was impeccable, Matt. My standoff with Michael got tense within seconds of our contact. He meant to kidnap me from that lobby. You saved me, baby.” I kiss Matt’s cheek as I speak.
Matt fumes. “Why can’t he accept that you no longer want to be with him?”
“I think Michael never recovered from the sudden death of his wife. He somehow convinced himself that I was going to come to my senses and assume the role that she left behind. I feel sorry for him,” I explain with sympathy.
“He needs therapy. I hope we’ve seen the last of him but I don’t think so!” Matt adds.
“I’m concerned now that Michael knows about you. He could try to make trouble for you with loans, business deals and that type of thing,” I comment and shake my head at what I’ve heard about the ruthless economic methods that Kingsfield uses in Georgia.
“Let him try to make waves for me. I’ve got friends in high places as well.” He bristles with rage.
“I hope it’s a good sign that Michael seems angry with me now. Perhaps it’s the beginning of the end for him. He looked really upset to hear about the fact that you’re sleeping with me.”
“We should discuss Michael Kingsfield with Dr. Stone. He usually has good insights about these kinds of obsessions. Would you be willing to do that, Megan?” Matt asks gently. I nod my head in agreement.
I spend the remainder of the evening convincing Matt that he’s all the man I want or need. He’s so adorable when his turf is threatened. I had a close call tonight and don’t relish the thought of seeing Kingsfield anytime soon.
Chapter Six – Accidents
MEGAN’S POV
The next week unfolds without any drama. I’m still living at his condo and feel secure now that Matt’s team is monitoring the situation with Michael Kingsfield 24/7. When I return to the Oregonian, Jared escorts me to and from my desk each day before heading to his lookout perch across the street. My relationship with Renee and the other coworkers grows stronger as I put in an enormous effort to pull more than my fair share of the manuscript load. I’ve come to depend upon the sage advice of Renee. My coworkers show me respect and give me kudos for the record number of manuscripts I’ve processed.
My trust in Matt grows each day. He personally rescued me from Michael’s clutches, and that speaks volumes, in my book. In addition, he hasn’t castigated me over my past relationship with Mr. Kingsfield – not once. I’ve come to believe that Matt’s definition of love really does involve being loyal, accepting and devoted. Finally, he’s such a stud in the sack. Where does he find the stamina? I’m a spoiled little diva and get wet just thinking about him. I Skype with Dr. Ginger and let her know that my uncertain feelings about love have begun taking shape towards Matt’s direction. She’s pleased about my progress and thinks I may be ready for the next step in my personal development.
On Friday, I’m shutting down my desktop. I’m about to join the gang from work at a nearby bar and grill called Bing’s. Matt plans to meet me there in an hour. My PDA buzzes with a text from my dad Paul.
“Call me at once; bad news” Dad.
My heart stutters as I read the message. I’m trying to imagine what the news could be. Perhaps his mother or father’s been hurt. I put off answering at first and try some shallow but slow breathing to calm down. When I feel comfortable, I dial my dad, Paul’s, phone.
“Megan. You’ll need to fly to Miami as soon as possible,” he announces when he picks up.
My mouth goes dry. “Why? Did something happen to mom…err, Abby?”
“Yes, Megan. Abby’s had a very serious car accident. She’s in a coma with a major head injury.”
My knees feel like jelly. “What happened?... Will she be alright?” I sob.
He pauses before launching into details. “A Ford F-250 pickup truck slammed into her on the freeway. The passenger side of the oncoming vehicle T-boned the front of her Mercedes. The driver’s side air bag shielded her head somewhat but the vehicles were both traveling at more than 45 mpg.”
I gasp with horror as he describes the scenario. “If she’s in a coma then she’s probably lost some brain tissue from a concussion.”
“She’s had some bleeding on the brain,” he admits. “You need to get yourself to her bedside ASAP.”
“Did the hospital even say whether or not they think she’ll survive?” I’m trembling as I ask the question.
“It’s too soon to tell, Megan.” He’s being as honest as possible. His experience as a paramedic serves him well as he shares the bad news with me in a calm and controlled manner.
“How did this pickup truck end up in a perpendicular position on the front of her vehicle?” I wonder.
He answers in a gruff manner. “The driver had bald tires during a heavy downpour and was over the speed limit by more than ten miles per hour. The 25 year old driver lost control. The truck crossed the median strip and attempted to turn before making contact with any another vehicle. He wasn’t successful. Both vehicles were totaled.”
I’m wracked with pain as I imagine Abby’s horror. My poor mother. Please let her recover! “Oh, dad. This is the worst news…What about the other driver? Did he survive?”
“Your mother was the victim of a reckless driver. Since it was the passenger side of his truck that took the brunt of the impact, he survived with a few cuts and scratches.” Paul sounds bitter as he recounts the tale.
Why do the jerks of this world somehow end up coming out ahead? I think. What I say instead is, “I’ll get to Florida as soon as possible,” I promise.
My next call is to Matt. I’m surprised when he doesn’t answer his phone on the second ring. It goes to voice mail. I leave him a brief message about the situation on VM and then call Rush for an escort out of the building and a ride to Matt’s place. While riding in the car, I look up Expedia and Orbitz on my IPad to check on flights. The most reasonable option seems to be taking a commercial flight to the east coast on Saturday morning. I wonder if Matt’s private jet could be used.
Matt still hasn’t returned my call by the time we reach home. I change into comfortable clothing and call the hospital in Miami for an update on Abby’s condition. She’s still in ICU on a respirator. I pour myself a large glass of Cabernet and sip it slowly. Finally, my phone buzzes. It’s Matt.
“Sorry, baby, we’re having a bit of a crisis here at work,” he apologizes. “I’m so upset to hear about Abby’s accident.”
I break down as I share the details with Matt. “I need to be
in Miami tomorrow morning!”
“I’ll ask my pilot to fly you there overnight or early tomorrow morning,” he promises. “Rush will accompany you the entire time you’re in Florida.”
I pause in surprise. “Do you mean to tell me that you won’t be coming with me?” This decision stuns me. The crisis at work must be earth shaking.
He lets out a long breath. “I am so sorry, Megan. One of our largest agencies is pulling the plug on a loan and we need to scramble to make up the difference. I’m needed at the helm just now.”
“I’m not sure I can face the crisis with Abby alone,” I moan. “You make me feel so protected, Matt.”
He chuckles without mirth. “Frankly, I need you here with me during my crisis. I want to lose myself in you tonight, baby. I need the distraction of your beautiful body more than ever right now.”
I moan with frustration. “I’ll stay with you tonight, then. When will you come home?” I ask with care.
“I should be there in about two more hours, Megan.” He clicks off and sounds exasperated.
I go to my room and begin packing for the weekend. I’m not sure how much to bring with me as Abby’s coma could be protracted. I’m hoping that I’ll learn more about her prognosis over the weekend. I text my editor, Renee, as well as Kim about my trip. Then I call Paul again.
“Dad, would you accompany me to Miami to be with Abby? Matt will have his pilot fly us there and back over the weekend. Unfortunately, Matt can’t accompany me. I need you to give me strength, dad.” My voice cracks as I make the request.
He hesitates but hears the urgency in my tone. “Sure, Megan. It’s hard enough for me to handle the news about Abby, so I know what you must be going through. I can only spare about two days, however.”
“Oh, dad, you’re the best!” I gush. We make tentative plans for our trip. We can stay at Abby’s place and take turns keeping vigils at the hospital. I eat a small meal since my appetite is off and then research head injuries on the internet.
Matt makes an appearance at home by 8:30pm. He holds me in his arms for a full five minutes before doing anything else. It’s the most soothing feeling in the world. I need this man. He looks more than stressed. Frightened might be a better description of his face. I prepare a seafood medley with risotto for his dinner. He drinks a large glass of chardonnay. We both avoid talking about our respective crises.
When dinner ends, I lead him to the couch and we snuggle in its corner. I put my head on his shoulder and cry for a minute while he pats my head and rubs my back.
“Baby, I wish I could make it all go away for you,” he whispers while kissing my nose.
“Same here, Matt. I’m sorry things are so tense at work.” I gently rub his chest and arm. Then I pull myself onto his lap and kiss him sweetly. Suddenly, the kiss deepens.
“Make it all right, Megan,” he moans in between our tongue dance. Within a matter of minutes, he pulls me up and leads me to the bedroom. Our clothes soon find their way to the floor as he pushes my body onto the mattress and mounts me. His naked physique makes my concerns about Abby’s survival disappear for a while.
I’m a quivering mass of desire as he works his magic wand and mouth over every inch of my needy body. I’m going to miss our nightly ritual. He brings me to orgasm three consecutive times. My gorgeous stallion. There’s nothing like a crisis to bring out Matt’s sexual desire.
“You’re insatiable tonight, Matt,” I smile and wink as he withdraws from me for the last time.
“You’re the best relief, ever, Megan,” he observes as his flushed face and dreamy expression corroborate his statement.
“Thanks, Matt. You know I feel the same way. You’re such a stud. I wish you could be with me in Miami.”
“At least you have Paul. You can keep each other together during the crisis,” he notes with satisfaction.
“I’m hoping that a weekend trip will be enough to figure out the situation with my mom. I’m hoping Abby will have regained consciousness by the time I reach her tomorrow.” I’m not optimistic about the possibilities though.
Matt’s sweet smile appears once again, “Well, my pilot can be on standby for you whenever you decide to return, baby.”
“You’re so generous and thoughtful, Matt I’ll return to soothe you quickly. I need you,” I assert with passion. I look deeply into his lovely hazel eyes. They soften with adoration and affection.
“That’s the most important thing you’ve said all night,” he beams. “We need each other, baby. See how good we are together?”
I nod my head in agreement with enthusiasm. “I don’t want to leave you, baby, but Abby may not survive the weekend.”
The horror of what I’m about to face in Florida suddenly rears its head again. Matt’s kiss eliminates the emotion before I can ruminate any further about the possibilities however.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms feeling sated and peaceful. I make our breakfast early on Saturday morning and we cuddle before going our separate ways for the next couple of days. Matt looks bewildered as I walk away from our parting embrace. I blow him a kiss. He catches it and places his hand over his heart. I melt. How can I resist him?
Matt’s pilot flies Rush, Paul and I from a private landing strip in Portland at 6am. The flight takes six hours but gives me time to catch up on my beauty rest. I will myself to focus on the present moment. Paul looks worried but controlled as we leave the plane. I call Matt to update him on our status. Rush brings a rental car around to retrieve us. I provide him with Abby’s address. After we freshen up and unpack our belongings in separate bedrooms, Paul and I make our way to the hospital.
I provide our names to the nurse at the ICU waiting room desk. She informs us that the attending physician will update us within the hour. I sigh with relief over the news. I tell Paul about my job and the fact that I am now living with Matt. I decide to keep the issue of Michael Kingsfield private. There’s no need to bring Paul into the loop about the status of my recent adventures with a deluded real estate mogul.
Instead, I tell Paul stories about the real estate success that Abby and I had in Miami. I mention our gold key awards and the details about our appealing condo development. He seems genuinely impressed with our mother-daughter teamwork. Paul and Abby divorced years ago, when I was still a toddler.
“It’s good to know that you and Abby worked together so well,” he smiles in approval.
I nod my head slowly and then tear up a bit. “Yeah, it’s helped to heal some of the distrust and anger I felt towards her over the years.”
We hear someone clear their throat and announce our names. We look up into the eyes of Abby’s physician. I take a long, deep breath and stand up to hear the latest news about her condition.
Chapter Seven – Manipulations
MEGAN POV
“Hello, Ms. Pine and Mr. Pine. I’m Dr. Carl and head of the treatment team working on your mother and ex-wife, Abby.” He smiles thinly and shakes our hands. He looks earnestly at each of us, in turn. He’s middle aged, experienced and kind.
“As you know, Abby’s still in a coma. The good news today concerns her physical responses. We’ve used the Glasgow Coma Scale to assess her visual, motor and verbal responses.” Dr. Carl appears quite tired but behaves in a professional and respectful manner.
“How responsive is she?” I’m excited that there’s been some progress. I turn to Paul with a smile.
Dr. Carl elaborates, “She opens her eyes to pain. That is, if we prick her skin. She’s also begun to make some sounds but they are incomprehensible at this point. Finally, her motor responses are improving. Not only does she open her eyes when given the skin prick, her body actually moves away from the source.”
“Does that mean that she’s regaining consciousness?” Paul prods.
The doctor shrugs, “She remains in a comatose state because no voluntary behaviors are noted. She may or may not awaken from her coma. At this point, she demonstrates a severe disability. Her eyes rem
ain closed, she has some impaired breathing – thus remains on a respirator, and her sleep-wake cycles are abnormal.”
My mood sinks again when I hear the phrase ‘severe disability’. “Are there any other tests or procedures to be conducted?” I query with hope building in my mind.
He pats my hand and explains, “There is no cure for a coma. We’ve run all the standard assessments on her reflexes and pupil size to determine her level of consciousness. We have also taken blood samples to gauge her electrolyte balance, glucose levels and her overall blood count. Our job, at this juncture, entails preventing any further damage. She’s had a closed head injury but there’s been focal damage to one area near her left frontal cortex.”
I take a sharp intake of breath, “What does that mean?”
“When her head hit the window frame, the skull took the impact. However, the soft tissue on that side of her brain lost tissue from contact with the skull. We’re medicating her to prevent swelling in that area. My team’s focus involves monitoring the injury in the ICU. We may need to insert a catheter to relieve any pressure that could build.” The doctor obviously knows his way around such cases. I’m relieved to learn she’s in good hands.