by Renea Mason
The entertainment show reporter gave a pained smile. "So, does this mean you're officially off the market?"
"Indeed. Katherine is a brilliant writer and the best companion anyone could ask for. I consider myself very lucky." He gazed into my eyes, his deep love evident.
The reporter interrupted. "You've broken a lot of hearts tonight."
"A wise person taught me that love isn't finite. It can't be used up. There's more than enough of me to go around."
The woman flipped her hair over her shoulder and bit her lip, shifting her shark-like focus to me. "You're the envy of a lot of women this evening."
"I have no problem sharing him with the world. It would be a tragedy not to." I tried to sound confident and relaxed, despite the nerves knotting my stomach.
Lachlan's gaze fixed the blonde in place. "See why I love her so much?" An assistant squeezed through an opening in the crowd and tapped him on the arm, whispering something in his ear. "Looks like that's our queue to move along. A pleasure as always." He nodded to the reporter and led me down the red carpet.
Beyond the hall doors, there were more photo flashes, trays of decadent hors d'oeuvres and champagne, and lavish gifts for the insiders. Like everyone else, the Hollywood elite were a captive audience for luxury vendors and enticing products. Lachlan ignored it all, seeming disinterested in the glitz and glam. He introduced me to several of his friends and former co-stars, but one woman, in particular, caught my eye. She stayed at a distance, yet tracked his path through the room. He finally met her gaze and said, "Come on, I want you to meet someone."
The gorgeous woman, nearly six feet tall with legs that went on for miles, and a supermodel smile, embraced him. I made an earnest effort not to notice the way she melded her body to his for longer than was natural and kept my focus on the stroke of his thumb, caressing the back of my hand.
When she finally released him, she asked, "How have you been?"
Without missing a beat, he replied, "I couldn't be better. Cindy, this is my Katherine. Katherine, this is Cindy, my ex-wife."
I reached out to shake her hand. "Very nice to meet you." She hesitated, then slowly locked her fingers around mine and squeezed lightly. Was she jealous? Her unreadable expression made me apprehensive.
Her eyes roamed over me, summing me up. A pleased smile curved her apple red lips. "Lachlan told me so much about you. You make him incredibly happy."
I tried not to blush.
Lachlan interceded before I had a chance to respond. "Am I mistaken, or do you have an announcement of your own?"
The woman rubbed her hand over her stomach. "No, you always were observant. She's due in four months."
He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you. Tell Nicklaus I said congratulations."
The lights dimmed, and Cindy turned to face the auditorium doors. "Well, we better get to our seats. It was so nice to finally meet you, Katherine."
"Likewise."
Lachlan rested his hand on the small of my back and ushered us to our seats.
Category after category, we shifted between applause and holding hands like teenagers in love.
Nerves grew in the pit of my stomach when they announced his name as a nominee for Best Actor. It wasn't until that moment I fully understood what it all meant for him. This night was a big deal, a huge moment for him. Anxiety tightened my chest. I felt honored to share this experience with him.
The actor on stage announced, "And the award goes to…" He peeled open the envelope and removed the card. "Lachlan Sinclair in Mountains Never Move."
Excitement coursed through me. He squeezed my hand, stood, then bent to kiss me before climbing the stairs to the stage. A quick embrace of the presenter and the mic was all his.
I was always impressed at how cool and collected he presented himself. Like he had done this a thousand times before.
He licked his lips. "Well, what a marvelous way to start the year. The number of people I need to thank for making this possible is immeasurable. My family back home in London, Marv, who directed this film, the cast that made my job easy, the crew who saw to my comfort, and everyone who makes what I do possible. The society and the kindness of countless others who help from the shadows. And, most of all, Katherine. She's given me a new reason for being. I'm thrilled to accept this with all my heart. Thank you!" He held up the golden statue before being ushered off stage by the presenter.
It took a while for us to be reunited, but eventually, he returned to the seat beside me. I tried to contain my enthusiasm until it wouldn't be disruptive. His usual nonplussed demeanor did not betray his new status. I wanted to squeeze his knee in a show of support, but the PR reps advice to allow Lachlan to initiate all physical contact resonated in my mind. I was an unknown in their world. They wanted to remain cautious.
We found ourselves, once again, on the red carpet where reporters fought for his attention. He held me close against his side, answering rapid-fire questions as we moved along.
"This has got to be the greatest day of your life," A tall man in a tuxedo stated, anticipating his agreement.
Lachlan clutched me with one hand and the golden statue in the other. "Not even close, but I'm honored nonetheless." He kissed my forehead.
"If you'll excuse me, we're running late for the after-party." He maneuvered us through the crowd. His entourage followed close behind. Suddenly, the loud din of clicking cameras and screaming fans faded in the background, replaced by two sharp pops. Lachlan's tall frame slammed into mine, stopping me in my tracks.
"Katherine," he gasped, his eyes wide with fear. Surveying the hysterical attendees scrambling around us, he blinked once as if to correct his failing vision, then twice. His hands curled around my arms, and he stumbled back, dragging me to the ground with him.
"Lachlan, what are you doing?" I grabbed at his jacket, attempting to pull him back up.
A thin rivulet of crimson trickled from the corner of his mouth. I stopped tugging on him and wiped at the drop making its way down his cheek. Red smeared on his face and my fingers.
Oh my god, he was bleeding. He was hurt.
I ripped open his jacket, sending his buttons flying. Under his right collarbone, a red circle stained his crisp white shirt and grew in size as the seconds passed. A dreadful scream tore from my throat.
"911, now. Call. He's hurt. Now. Someone, help me. Lachlan, look at me."
Everyone was shouting, pushing, and shoving each other to get through the door first. No one was paying me any attention. I needed to see what we were dealing with. I yanked the rest of his dress shirt open, more buttons popping into the air, and dragged his bloody t-shirt up his stomach. Blood gushed from the second hole in his stomach, just above his right hip bone. I pressed my palm down on the largest wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "He's been shot. Someone help."
He grasped my arm with tight fingers. His lips moved, but no sound escaped.
My heart thundered in my chest, each thud echoing my screams for help.
A security guard fell to a knee beside me. "We have to get you out of here. The area must be cleared."
"You'll have to make me because I'm not leaving him."
A man shrugging off his tuxedo jacket grabbed Lachlan's wrist, feeling for a pulse. "What happened?"
I sniffled, trying to compose myself as much as possible. "He's been shot twice."
"Use this." He stood and pulled a scarf off the shoulders of a woman standing next to him and then dropped again to his knees. "We have to keep pressure on the wounds. I used to be an ER doctor."
I pressed the cloth against the wound just above Lachlan's right pec while the man applied pressure to the wound in his abdomen. Locking gazes with Lachlan, I made my demand. "You have to survive this. You promised me a happily ever after. You don't get to die. It's not an option. Do you understand?" Tears fell from my eyes.
He couldn't respond with words, but his eyes communicated everything.
The doctor hopped
up, waving as he yelled, "Over here." I could hear him passing his assessment to the EMT's, but it was all background noise to me. I couldn't focus on anyone but Lachlan.
Someone rested a gentle hand on my back. "Ma'am," he said in a comforting tone, "we need you to move so we can help him."
"I love you. Please, don't leave me." I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. "Please…," I breathed against his mouth.
The doctor urged me away and into his arms. "Let them prepare him. I'll ride with them to watch over him." His eastern European accent was thick. His blood covered hands cupped my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I know Lachlan. He's strong."
All I could do was nod and try not to sniffle.
The man released me to follow the stretcher.
I stood in the center of the massive event room, looking around helplessly. Almost everyone had cleared out except for the few security officers barking orders. I couldn't focus enough to hear.
His blood was everywhere. I peered down at my shaking hands, flipping them back and forth. Red. There was red all over my skin.
My head swam. The room swirled around me, and my knees buckled.
Blackness consumed me.
When I woke up, two paramedics were looming over me.
I sat up, trying to get my bearings.
"Are you all right?" a young man asked.
Catching sight of my red-stained fingers, I remembered. "I have to get to Lachlan."
"Relax, ma'am. We need to check you for injuries."
I rose and stumbled. "There's nothing wrong with me. I have to go." I kicked off the expensive high-heeled shoes and ran toward the exit.
A police officer snagged my arm. "Ms. Acosta, please come with us." It was then I noticed Lachlan's manager following close behind the officer.
"You have to take me to him."
The tall, intimidating cop led me to a cruiser. "Get in. I'll take you to the hospital."
Kyle, Lachlan's manager, slid into the back seat beside me.
I couldn't stop staring at the dried blood on my hands.
Kyle patted my leg. "He'll pull through this. He's stubborn and loves you."
I took a deep, ragged breath. "If only love were enough. I know better than anyone, it's not."
14
Waiting
I leaned against the hospital's bathroom sink, mindlessly staring at the blood-soaked into my pores. It was all my fault. If I hadn't been greedy....If I hadn't allowed myself to believe in fairy tales...In my life, there was no glass slipper, no library in a castle, no storybook ending. Somehow, my dreams always ended in blood.
The water ran from the spigot and swirled in the basin. Each time I stretched my fingers toward the water, I couldn't submerge them. I couldn't wash him away. He would be in surgery for at least another six hours—critical condition.
What if his blood was a reminder of the last time I touched him while he was alive? What if it was the only part of him I'd be allowed to have? Washing it away seemed like a final act.
My swollen, red-rimmed eyes stared back from the mirror. The makeup that had been meticulously painted on my face ran with the streams of tears that refused to stop. I knew better than to give in to him, and now…
A knock sounded on the door.
I turned my head to yell over my shoulder, but the words lay thick on my tongue. "One mo...," my voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again. "One moment." I closed my eyes, held my breath, and felt the water rush over my hands. Rivers of pain trailed down my cheeks. I opened my eyes again, witnessing Lachlan's blood disappear down the drain. Sobs caught in my chest, and I gripped the edge of the sink to keep from falling. I knew then he needed to survive. If he didn't, I didn't know if I had the strength to go on.
After a series of steady, deep breaths, I attempted to pull myself together. He was still alive. He needed me to be strong. I had to get over myself and be what he needed, no matter how hard.
I scrubbed with soap until there was no evidence of the tragic event left on my skin. My stained dress was still a reminder, but it was my hands that would be needed to pull him through, and they were ready for whatever was to come. With a paper towel, I removed most of the smeared makeup from my face and made myself a promise. I would cling to hope as long as it would hold me, no matter how foolish it might be.
Another knock sounded.
I tossed the paper into the trash and unlocked the door.
The woman's face turned from angry to concerned as she took in my appearance.
"It's all yours," I mumbled, pushing past her.
Kyle chatted with several police officers in the hospital waiting room but stopped when he noticed me approaching. "Katherine, are you OK?"
I sniffled. "As OK as I can be, given the circumstances."
A tall, handsome officer with deep brown skin turned to greet me. "Ms. Acosta, I know it's a tough time, but do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"
"Go ahead." I slumped into the pink paisley upholstered chair. "Did you get the shooter?"
He lowered to the seat beside me and, in a soothing tone, did his best to reassure me. "We think so. We're confirming he acted alone right now. When the surgeon retrieves both bullets, we'll know more."
My brows pinched together. I swallowed the sense of defeat that tightened my chest. "Lachlan told me you caught the person days ago."
The cop shook his head and leaned forward on his arms. "We thought so, too. He confessed to the attempt in Pittsburgh, but it seems the young woman's father was working with him."
"The brother confessed so everyone would let their guard down. We were played."
"It seems that's the case. The father obtained press credentials under a false name. Do you remember anything?"
I sighed, an overwhelming numbness consuming me. "Just the two pops then Lachlan falling against me. It should all be on film. There were cameras everywhere."
The man with a gentle demeanor placed his hand on my arm. "I've had many friends survive what seemed like a hopeless situation. Don't give up on him. We'll be in touch as soon as we know more." He squeezed ever so slightly. "And, hey, make sure you take care of yourself. He's going to need you."
All I could do was nod.
Kyle and I sat in silence, waiting for some kind of an update. My mind drifted through a labyrinth of questions. Did his parents know? Should I be the one to inform them? How could the universe allow him the honor of being recognized by his industry only to give him tragedy hours later? Could I have done something? Been more alert? Sensed something was wrong?
Through the delirium of swirling what-ifs, a doctor appeared. Her surgical mask rested around her neck. Her eyes were weary. "Ms. Acosta?"
"Yes." I stood and closed the distance between us.
"I'm told you are representing Mr. Sinclair's interests?"
I wasn't sure how to answer. We had only been dating a short time, but our relationship was far more intimate than anyone else's here, so I opted for a shaky, "Yes."
Her professional tone did nothing to soothe my nerves. "We were able to remove both bullets and repair the artery and lung, but we had to remove his kidney. The other one should be fine, and you can live with only one kidney; however, he is still critical. The next 24 to 48 hours are going to be very important."
"When can I see him?"
"It's probably best you wait until tomorrow. I'll send someone out to get you first thing."
I nodded with reluctance. "OK. Thank you."
She gave me a weak smile and turned to leave.
Kyle rubbed his hand on my back. "I'm having someone bring you a change of clothes since I'm guessing telling you to go home and get some rest isn't going to work."
For the first time, I cracked a smile. "Lachlan told me you were smart. I see he wasn't wrong."
"He survived the surgery, Katherine. That is great news. Things are looking up."
I wanted to feel relief, but until he was home…Home? That damned persistent man had i
nfiltrated my defenses and stole my heart. He owed me his survival.
Every hour or so, one of the nurses would visit me in the waiting room. They all had that starry-eyed glow about them, reminiscent of the look the passengers on the plane gave Lachlan the first day we met.
The sun broke through the blinds in the waiting room. I changed into the jogging outfit Kyle had secured for me, then finally fell asleep on the pleather sofa. A cheerful, blonde nurse opened the door and called out my name. "Ms. Acosta?"
I sat up, wiping the sleep from my puffy eyes. "Yes."
"The doctor just finished his rounds and said you can come back to see Mr. Sinclair now. He's awake and asking about you."
Tears welled in my eyes. Hope rushing through me. "Thank you."
"Follow me."
I lingered in the doorway, staring at him, trying to compose myself. His eyes were closed, and I had never been so thankful for the moment.
With the back of my hand, I dried my eyes, sniffled one last time, and then stepped into the room.
His eyes fluttered open, and he lifted his hand, reaching for me. "Katherine…" His voice was strained and raspy.
I clasped his hand between mine and lost my battle with the fucking tears. "Shhh… Save your voice. I'm here. More importantly, you're here. I thought I lost you."
He smiled, and a barely audible, "Never," escaped his lips.
Lifting his hand to my face, I rubbed the back of it against my cheek, needing to feel him.
His thumb brushed over my skin. "Kath…"
"No. Save your strength. There's nothing to say that can't be said when you're finally home." I knew he'd find solace in my optimism and challenge in the quest.
His brilliant smile was all the response I needed.
15
Recovery
For all his charm, Lachlan Sinclair did not handle being idle well, and weakness with even less grace. Bed rest and restrictions fueled his irritability. Eight weeks of recovery taxed our new relationship, especially when cohabiting was a new endeavor. He wanted to hire someone to care for him, but I had insisted because if I were to be part of his life as his partner, it should be the least he should be able to expect from me. However, after his constant foul moods, discontent demeanor, and deliberate distance, I knew I had made a mistake. The domesticity of it all had tarnished the luster of our new love, and now I found myself watching everything I said and did, biding my time, waiting for the inevitable. We were not the same people we were on that fated flight just a few months ago. Or maybe we were—still two strangers.