She nodded in silent agreement.
“And you don’t want to trust me again,” he repeated. “Even if this—you and me—could help Camille feel safe and happy?”
Selena tensed against him. “Parker started out saying he wanted to make me and my baby happy. Almost as soon as I limped into New York and met him in some club I’d heard I could get a job doing whatever clubs paid girls my age to do. I’d screwed up any chance I had to have you in my life. I couldn’t face my mother, not knowing whose baby it was. I was desperate. And there Parker was, acting smitten, ready to take over.”
The way Oliver had tried to their last few months of high school. The way he was pushing her now to deal with Camille’s paternity.
“Take over what?” he asked.
“Me. My education, Parker called it, while I learned to be something besides eighteen and pregnant, though college was always out of the question, because no one could know a wife of his had no degree. He was ready to be responsible for my child, though. He’d raise her as his own. A man of a certain age should settle down, he said, and make his life look more stable. And I was so grateful at first. He was going to slay all my dragons. Camille and I were going to be safe, forever, the way I’d once dreamed you’d make life better. All I had to do was better myself and keep Parker happy.”
She looked ready to run again. She settled deeper into Oliver instead.
“Except I was never going to be able to make Parker want the kind of family Camille and I deserved,” she continued. “Not when there was a big city of other women out there panting to make him happy without the added baggage of being a husband and father. So, good riddance. Now my daughter will be happy because of me. Not because we need someone else to decide whether he loves us enough to walk through the door at the end of the day.”
“You think I could still hurt you.”
Oliver couldn’t keep his hands to himself, sliding them up and down her curves and feeling her body warm for him. He desperately wanted to meet Parker and wring the man’s cheating neck. He still wanted to slay every dragon Selena was determined to face on her own. He wanted that chance with Camille, too. But . . .
“No matter how much we might still feel for each other,” he said, “you think I could still hurt you. So you’re determined not to give this a chance.”
“You could destroy me,” Selena whispered.
Then she pressed her lips to his.
He took the kiss he’d wanted since she’d driven away from him two nights ago. Once again she’d initiated it, when he’d half expected her to shove him away. To tell him to go to hell. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d bitten him, given her current state of mind. Instead, she was all over him.
She still expected the worst of him. But she was rising onto her toes to give him more, take more, want more with him. Just like when they’d been kids, only better now. She was still afraid. But not in this moment, while she arched, stretched, luxuriated in his hands sliding from her waist up her ribs, his thumbs caressing the sides of her breasts. Her hands slipped under his T-shirt, her nails scraping across his belly and then around and up, down, smoothing over his butt, the backs of his thighs, as if she’d never stop.
God, he hoped she never stopped.
He deepened the kiss, shutting out the sound of Ms. Walker talking with the kids in the next room. Selena angled her head so their mouths could feast. She still had doubts, but he could feel her need blowing through the compulsion to be careful. There was honesty inside her, too, for him and what they could have. And trust. Somewhere deep where she couldn’t stop it, she still wanted to trust him. He’d never been more certain of it.
Her complete openness while she explored his body again was sexier than her gasp, her touch, her tongue seeking his. This was his Selena, giving everything, taking more. And he wanted every taste, every sip, until he was drowning in it, in her.
There’d never been half measures between them. All-consuming had been the only way they’d known how to love as teenagers. The same all-or-nothing would be the path they’d travel as adults. And it had Oliver spooked, the same as Selena. Because this time around if they failed, it wouldn’t be because they hadn’t known better.
He ached to lift her to the kitchen’s island and settle in. She was all but wrapping her body around him, smooth skin and sleek muscles and slippery running gear that hid next to nothing of her. She kissed his neck. He reciprocated and tasted salt and Selena, nibbling beneath her ear, licking at the goose flesh rushing over her.
“Oliver,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Selena . . .”
They were begging. Their bodies were demanding. And they couldn’t do this. Not yet. This needed to be slow and sure and in it for the long haul, before they sank any deeper into the flood of it. He curled his hands around her shoulders. Hers cupped his face.
She broke the carnal rhythm of their kiss and pressed her lips to his, over and over. Healing, gentle touches that had him promising himself to protect her, Camille, and everything that was important to them.
The raging, relentless tide of desire finally began to ease. Leaving her smiling gently, her eyelids closed as if she were having the best dream. He let his fingers trail through her hair, where it had escaped the ponytail she’d caught the mass of curls into for her run. Her smile widened. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Hello,” she said.
He lifted her hand and looked down at her palm, nestled trustingly in his. “Hello.”
He drew the backs of her fingers to his lips. And then he let go, so she wouldn’t have to.
Her features lost some of their softness. Worry crept back. Doubt, as she swallowed and bit her lower lip.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. “We can’t just . . .”
“No,” he agreed, “we can’t. But we can work through all of this together, especially things with Camille. I’ll deal with Ms. Walker, and then get Travis over here on his lunch break. You and I can walk Camille through her questions. And then we’ll—”
Selena’s cell phone played Mission: Impossible.
He chuckled. She smiled and rolled her eyes. She pressed the call through.
“Mom?” she said. “I have you on speaker. I’m still with Oliver. I’ll be home in just a—”
“It’s Camille,” Belinda said in a rush. “Her EpiPen’s not working. She’s really having trouble breathing. I’ve already called her pediatrician. The nurse said to bring her straight to the ER. We have to get her to the hospital, Selena. We have to go right now.”
Chapter Eighteen
“The doctors know what they’re doing,” Belinda insisted, her arm circling Selena’s waist. They were waiting outside the ER cubicle Camille has been whisked into, shooed aside by the nurses so the critical care team could work on Selena’s daughter without distraction.
“Of course they do,” Marsha reassured them both, hugging Selena from the other side. “You got Camille here quickly. That makes all the difference—”
“In severe anaphylaxis cases,” Selena finished for her, whispering the doctor’s description of Camille’s condition.
Selena was shaking so badly, if the other women hadn’t been supporting her, she’d have collapsed.
Severe.
It was a word she’d never heard used about her daughter’s allergies. But she knew the horror stories. Worst-case scenarios. This had been her nightmare since Camille had been a baby and first diagnosed with food sensitivities. And all she could do was wait now, while specialists tried to stabilize her baby.
“They have her on oxygen.” By the time Selena had rushed her daughter into the ER, Camille had been lethargic, almost unconscious. A team of nurses and the doctor had been waiting. So had Marsha, who’d hurried down from the cardiac floor. Oliver had called ahead and energized everyone into motion. Within seconds, Camille had been taken from Selena’s arms and into a treatment area.
Now Selena couldn’t tear her gaze from the image of
her daughter lying immobile on a treatment table. Her play clothes had been cut away from her chest so monitors and heaven knew what else could be hooked up. One of her flower flip-flops lay on the floor beneath the exam table. The other was still on her left foot. There were two IVs, one in each arm. The frantic activity around her had settled down in the last few minutes. That had to be a good sign. Right?
“They’re just taking precautions,” Marsha assured her. “The paramedics did the same with Joe when they came to the house. They’re stabilizing her. Making sure whatever’s happening doesn’t get any worse.”
Selena nodded. Then her breath caught as she remembered everything Marsha had been through earlier that week.
“You should be upstairs with your husband,” Selena insisted.
“Dru’s with him. Joe’s spirits are up. We just received the approval to move him to the step-down unit. Travis headed over to the house so Oliver can be here—Oliver feels so bad, thinking it was something Camille ate when she was with him. Everyone’s exactly where they should be, Selena. Including me. Camille is important to us. You both are. We’ll get through this. Don’t you worry.”
We can work through all of this together, especially things with Camille . . .
Selena fought back tears.
Belinda’s hold on her tightened.
“Thank you for being here,” Selena said to both women.
“Ms. Rosenthal?” The very young trauma doctor who’d been working on Camille stepped around the half-closed green curtain that had been pulled around Camille’s ER bed.
“Yes.” Selena rushed toward him. “How is my daughter?”
“We have her breathing and heart rate better controlled. She’s still pretty out of it. We’re treating her with a high dose of steroids for the asthma symptoms, other meds for the primary allergy. We’ll be admitting her and observing her closely for the next twenty-four hours. Depending on her response to treatment we may need to keep her longer than that. But for now . . .” He smiled. “I’m cautiously optimistic that we’re out of the woods with this attack. She’s a very lucky girl that you got her here so quickly. Her airway was almost completely obstructed, and her blood pressure was dangerously low, compromising her heart’s ability to beat properly.”
“What . . .” Selena couldn’t finish. She felt Camille’s grandmothers join her.
“What caused this?” Belinda asked. “She’s never had a reaction this bad before, has she?”
Selena shook her head. “But her pediatricians warned me this might happen. They said to let her lead a normal life but to be careful that the adults around her knew what to do in case of an emergency.”
And that had been the beginning of the end for Selena and Parker—long after she should have left him for other reasons, but had stayed thinking she owed her daughter to try to make their family work. Parker’s carelessness where Camille’s allergies were concerned, his refusal to take precautions or learn anything about how to help her if she became reactive, had been the final straw.
“There was no way to foresee this.” The doctor shoved his clipboard under his arm. “Your daughter could have outgrown her allergies without an extreme anaphylaxis episode ever happening. Most kids do. It sounds like you’ve done everything just right. My team will take it from here and get her back on her feet and playing again in no time.”
“But can you tell us what caused it?” Marsha asked.
“One of the nurses will take a history of what you think she might have been exposed to immediately prior to the onset of symptoms, but unfortunately that might not tell us anything for certain.”
“I wasn’t with her the whole time—” Selena started to say.
“I was.” Oliver appeared at her side.
Marsha and Belinda faded away as he took Selena’s hand, his grip firm, reassuring, his eyes concerned but calm. His attention strayed to where Camille was lying so still on the table beyond the green curtain. He quite simply melted.
“I’m so sorry,” he said to Selena.
“It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “You couldn’t have—”
“She was with me this morning when she—”
“And me,” Belinda interrupted, behind them. “We don’t know what she came into contact with or when.”
“And even when we are sure,” Selena said, “the doctor was just saying no one could have predicted this. And she surprised you this morning on top of it. Don’t blame yourself.”
“She’s so sick,” Oliver said. “And she could be my . . .”
Selena pushed onto her toes and kissed him, loving him for being so concerned.
“Yes,” she said. “She could be. So pull yourself together, like any parent would have to. She’s going to be okay.” Selena was more able to believe that now, with Oliver beside her.
Oliver kissed her back, then inched away, steadier now. His focus returned to Camille.
The ER doctor cleared his throat. “As I was saying. Someone will be by with a survey for you to fill out, so we can try to identify the cause. I’ve already gotten my staff started on admitting Camille to pediatrics.”
“Thank you,” Marsha replied.
The doctor left as one of the ER admissions nurses rushed over. “Mrs. Gryphon?”
Oliver’s attention shifted to the nurse, then to Selena. Given his startled expression, it was the first time he’d heard her married name.
“Your husband’s on the phone at the desk,” the nurse said.
“What?” Selena and Oliver both asked.
“We had some admit questions regarding her insurance,” the nurse answered while she eyed the man Selena had just been kissing. “The insurance company must have contacted your husband. He insists on speaking with you before he’ll deal with us.”
“You can’t be serious.” Belinda sounded ready to explode.
Selena was right there with her. From the rising fury on his face, so was Oliver.
“He was asking for details about his daughter’s condition,” the nurse said, “but you told us you were her primary guardian. We weren’t sure what to say to him so . . .”
“She’s not his daughter,” Selena corrected. “He wanted to adopt Camille,” she said to Oliver, “but . . .” She looked to Belinda. “He wasn’t the father I wanted for her.”
The nurse, eyes rounded at the personal details, pointed a thumb over her shoulder to the admissions desk. “Whoever he is, he’s on the phone. Your daughter’s listed as a dependent on his policy, and at the moment he’s refusing to provide the insurance rep confirmation about her status.”
“I’ll take care of the bill,” Oliver said.
“What?” Selena shook her head. “That’s not necessary. It could be thousands of dollars if they keep her here for a couple of days. And we’re still covered by Parker’s insurance. He’s just—”
“Trying to control you. He’s harassing you while your daughter needs urgent medical care.” Oliver pulled a credit card from his wallet. “Use this to cover her account, then hang up the damn phone and cut him out of the loop.”
“Oliver, don’t . . .”
He had to stop. It was a wonderful if overly generous gesture. The rational part of Selena could see his point. Eliminating Parker from the situation was the most efficient way to handle things. But she couldn’t take it—Oliver throwing money at her problems the way he’d bankrolled his family from a distance.
He had to stop. They had to stop. Everyone, everything, had to just stop for a minute, until Selena could think straight and didn’t have the urge to shove the man’s gold card down his throat.
“I don’t want this,” she told him. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t know anything about Parker and me and Camille. Please, don’t put yourself in the middle of our problems.”
“It’s done.” He handed his card to the nurse. Once she was gone, he said, “What happened between you and the bastard you married is none of my business, if you don’t want to talk about it. But Camille�
�s family, whether I’m her biological father or not. She’s going to get what she needs—without you having to do your husband’s bidding while he bullies his way back into your life. That’s not going to happen as long as I have a dime in my bank account.”
“How long has she been here?” Marsha asked Dru.
They were staring through the windows of Joe’s CICU room. He was scheduled to move to step-down tomorrow. He was doing as well as a man could expect less than two days after having open-heart surgery. Which meant he was swollen and puffy and paler than Marsha had ever seen him. And he was in a lot more pain than he wanted anyone to know. But as she had every time she’d set eyes on Joseph Dixon since her first day at college, she gazed at him and smiled.
They were going to get through this stronger than before.
He had so much to live for. Just look at the surprise that had been awaiting her when she’d returned from the ER. Bethany was curled up beside her dad, half on his hospital bed, one leg hanging over the side, her head nestled on Joe’s shoulder while he slept.
“Bethie was here when I came back from the bathroom,” Dru said, “about half an hour ago. The nurses said she’d just slipped in. And she’s already stayed too long. I’ve run them off twice so she could have as much time with Dad as she wants. Do you think she’ll stay once we get her out of his room?”
“I think she should know how much we want her to stay.” Like Marsha was hoping Selena and Camille were learning how much they were wanted. Like Oliver hopefully was. “Our family has to pull together now, and not just for Joe.”
Dru hugged Marsha to her side. “Bethie’s doing a good job at the Whip. Whatever we need her to do. She’s even letting me hang some of her work on the walls. Unsigned. Of course it’s too good. Everyone knows whose it is. There’s so much of her in each painting. But no one bothers her about them. You should see people, Mom. They stop and stare and smile.”
Bethany had a gift for bringing her imagination to life so others could experience how she saw the world. It was in handling day-to-day reality that she still struggled.
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