His Paradise Wife
Page 9
* * *
“And where’s Mr. Champion, Emily?” the therapist asked. “We need both parties in our group sessions.”
Emily had ventured down to the last group therapy session of the evening. In the midst of packing her bags and leaving, she got the urge to do what Dante had been pestering her to do for days now – share her story. So instead of going home, she headed downstairs to do just that.
Emily stood up and said, “I don’t know where he is, but I’ve never participated in group and I want to this evening. I need to.”
“Okay, then. Go right ahead.”
“Um,” Emily began, her hands balled into fists as she tried to ease her nervousness. Her eyes filled with tears and her heart was being hammered with ferocious beats. “Um...”
“Just take your time, Emily. We’re all friends here.”
“Okay...um...I was married to a wonderful man named Melvin Mitchell. He was the light of my life...the love of my life and he died in a car accident two years ago. I thought...” she said, and her voice cracked. “I thought that if I ignored what I felt, the pain would go away but it hasn’t.” Her lips trembled as she tried to get her thoughts together.
“Take your time, Emily,” the therapist said, watching Emily struggle.
“I...I remember getting the phone call like the accident just happened yesterday. I was at home and I sped to the hospital, trying to get there as fast...as...I...could, but,” her lips trembled. “But I...” she said, struggling to find her breath. “I didn’t...make it.” She breathed in and out rapidly and suddenly the room was spinning and then she fainted, hitting her head on a chair before she landed on the floor.
Chapter 22
Dante headed down to the ground floor again, hoping he’d find Emily and convince her to stay. When he arrived in the lobby, however, he saw a crowd that had gathered. A few women were crying and there was a fire truck parked in the emergency lane in front of the hotel.
“What’s going on?” he asked the first person he came upon, one of the cleaning staff members.
“I think somebody passed out or something,” the man said. “That’s what everybody else is saying.”
Dante continued on through the crowd. This was his resort and he needed to know what was going on right now. He saw Dr. Stacey, one of the therapists, outside with her hands crossed, so he pushed the glass door open and said, “What’s going on here?”
“Oh my gosh, Mr. Champion,” Dr. Stacey said, her hands trembling. “She fainted.”
“Who fainted?”
“Emily.”
Dante frowned. “My Emily?”
“Yes. She was trying to share with the group and she just blacked out.”
For a moment, Dante felt like he was going to faint. Had he heard her correctly? Emily fainted? He gathered himself enough to get his head on straight and had one of his resort drivers escort him to the hospital as quickly as he could.
Once he arrived, he rushed in the emergency room entrance, and summoning the first nurse he saw, he asked, “Where’s the woman that just came in? Emily Champion? Where is she?”
“Sir, she’s being checked out by a doctor at the moment.”
“I need to see her,” he said desperately, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.
“Sir, if you would just calm down a moment—”
“No. I need to see my wife, now! Where is she?” When the nurse hadn’t responded, he looked at the double gray doors behind her and walking past the nurse, ignoring her calls to come back and sit the waiting area, he continued on, pushing the doors open and walking the emergency room corridor, frantically looking for Emily. Straight ahead he saw her, sitting on the edge of a bed with a few band-aids at her temple.
Hearing nothing but the beats of his own heart, he ran to her as fast as he could.
Emily didn’t realize he was there until the seconds before he wrapped his arms around her, the side of her face pressed against his chest. While he held her there, she could feel his rapid, uncontrolled heartbeats against her face.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” he said, taking full responsibility. He was the one who’d pushed her to relay her story to the group, even when she told him she wasn’t ready to do so.
“I’m okay, Dante.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his arms still wrapped around her.
“I’m okay.”
He released her so he could see her face. He held her head between his hands, pressed his lips against hers and said, “Are you okay, baby? Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she said, staring longingly into his worried eyes.
“She had what we would call an anxiety attack,” the doctor told him. “In addition to that, she’s dehydrated. We’re going to give her a few IV drips overnight while we observe her and she may be ready to be discharged early in the A.M.”
“Why does she have the band-aids on her temple?”
“From what I gather, when she fell, she bumped her head. We’ve already given her a CT scan and there’s no internal damage there...just the cut.”
Dante swallowed hard.
“If you would step out in the hallway for a moment, Sir, we can get her set up.”
“No. I’m staying here. I’ll move in a corner so I’m out of your way, but I’m staying here with my wife.”
“All right, Sir.”
And he did just what he said. Dante stood in the corner, while the nurses prepped Emily in the hospital bed, connecting an IV to her and making sure she was comfortable with enough blankets to keep her warm in the cool environment.
When the nurses left the room, Dante sat in the chair next to her bed, his eyes fixed on her so firmly, he hadn’t blinked.
“Dante.”
“Yes, sweetie.”
“I passed out, but I did it. I got a good chunk of the story out before I fainted.”
“You don’t have to talk about that, Emily.”
“No, I want to. I took your advice, told my story and I feel better.”
“Good,” Dante said, but it didn’t seem that she was better. She was lying on a hospital bed, courtesy of him.
“I’m ready to fully participate now. We have four days left and I promise to make the most of every moment.”
“Okay,” he responded.
“You don’t seem too excited about that.”
“I’m not.”
“Why? I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It is, but if I knew my pushing you to participate would have you ending up in a hospital bed, I would’ve never done it.”
“But I’m fine, Dante.”
“I’m relieved that you are, but—”
“Just let that be enough for right now,” she said.
Dante nodded. “Okay.”
Chapter 23
In the morning, Emily was discharged. Dante took extra special care to make sure she was comfortable at the suite. He removed her suitcase from the bed and laid her there.
“Dante, I’m fine. You don’t have to cater to me.”
“I want to take care of you, Emily. Now you stay here and rest. I’m going to go get us some breakfast.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
When Dante left the suite, Emily called Sherita just to check in and to see how things were going at the shop. Afterwards, she dialed Melanie.
“Are things getting better?” Melanie inquired.
“If you call passing out and having to go to the hospital better, then yes.”
“You passed out?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen?”
“Well, Dante was telling me how I wasn’t participating...said something about me being miserable and lonely, and I don’t want miserable and lonely to be words that describes me. So I sucked it up and went to group therapy to share my story about Melvin and I fainted.”
“Oh...my...gosh!”
“Before I crashed and burned, I remember crying buckets and fe
eling lightheaded. Then I’m waking up with people huddled around me.”
“Jeez, Em. Maybe you should just come home.”
“Nope. I won’t. I may have fell and hit my head, Melanie, but I think I had a breakthrough.”
“How so?”
“Sharing my story with the group has opened my eyes. Dante was right. I do feel better after talking openly about Melvin. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes, and with four more days here in paradise, I’m going to enjoy myself.”
“Well, good for you. You deserve to enjoy yourself. And maybe you can enjoy a little of Dante, too,” Melanie quipped. “Oh, no, wait...my bad. I mean a lot of Dante.”
Emily giggled. “Hey, Dante is coming back with breakfast in a few minutes, so I’m going to go.”
“Okay, girl. Bye.”
As she was placing her cell phone on the nightstand, she heard the latch at the door. Dante came walking into the bedroom with a breakfast tray, setting it on the bed.
“Hope I got enough.”
Emily glanced at the tray. He’d gotten plenty of everything...eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast and slices of fresh cut oranges. She glanced up at him, watching his sexy lips curve into a smile. She smiled too. “Yeah. You got plenty.”
“Good.”
Emily took a fork full of eggs to her mouth and noticed Dante wasn’t eating. Instead, he was looking at her and she could tell he had a lot on his mind. She continued eating, and he took his gaze from her to her suitcase that he’d placed by the door.
Dante rubbed his head.
Emily hadn’t cared for his company much before, but having found out that he’d been right about her healing process, she began to notice how, whenever he was frustrated or worried about something, he would rub his head or look away from her. When he was nervous, and men do get nervous, he would lock his hands together and rest his chin on them, or if he was standing, he’d slide his hands in his pockets. And when he was angry, his eyes and face would darken and everything about him exuded irritation and frustration. He was the type that couldn’t mask an angry demeanor.
At the moment, he looked to be worried. Emily was almost certain that he was. The man had the appetite of a lion and he hadn’t taken a bite of anything on his plate.
“Dante.”
“Yes?” he said, taking his eyes off of her suitcase and giving her his full attention.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Lost my appetite when I thought something bad had happened to you.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine?”
“I know, baby. It’s just that, walking those hospital hallways brought back so many bad memories of taking Anita to chemotherapy, watching her get worse and worse...hearing the noises from those machines...”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t yelled at you, you probably would not have been in there in the first place.”
Emily didn’t respond to him. Instead, she ate more, then stood up and said, “Be right back,” rushing off to the bathroom.
After a few minutes, she came out and noticed Dante hadn’t moved. He was still sitting on the bed, his head hanging low, like he was sad or in deep thought.
“So are you going to leave?” he asked without even looking up at her.
She walked closer to him and when he knew she was getting closer, he looked up, watching her stand between his legs. “Do you want me to leave, Dante?” she asked, touching the sides of his face.
He frowned slightly, confused by her touch. She’d never touched him intentionally before. As a matter of fact, no woman had ever touched him like this since Anita. Emily’s touch was tender, something he hadn’t expected – something he didn’t feel he deserved because he blamed himself for the bandage on her temple – for her having to go to the hospital.
Meeting her gaze, he responded truthfully, “No, I don’t want you to go, but all I ever seem to do is hurt you, Emily, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“Then don’t hurt me,” she said softly, pressing her lips against his forehead.
Dante closed his eyes when he felt her warm lips against his skin, feeling desire rattle his core.
“I have a private therapy session with Dr. Stacey at ten,” Emily said. “She told me I could bring you for support if I needed to, and I would like for you to come with me if that’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Dante. I’m sure.”
* * *
After the two-hour long therapy session, the two went to lunch together and when Dante asked her what they would do with the hours they had to burn before dinner, Emily had a suggestion.
She took him by the hand and led him to the docks.
“This is what you want to do?” Dante asked, surprised. “You want to get on a rowboat, because the last time you were so angry with me, I thought you were going to jump in the water and never resurface.”
Emily laughed. “The last time was rough, I know, but I want to go again. I owe you.”
Dante nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Dante checked out a boat, helped her onboard then stepped on himself. They both used the oars to row along quietly for a while, enjoying the weather.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she told him.
“Yes it is,” he responded, staring at her from head to toe. She was beautiful, wearing a white sundress with her curly strands blowing in the wind, her eyes hiding behind a pair of dark shades.
When they were further along, she said, “I was wrong about you.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “I thought you were arrogant and egotistical.”
He smirked. “That’s what most people think about me. It comes with the success, especially for a man.”
Emily nodded in agreement. “And I didn’t think you were the least bit interested in me other than to have me in your bed once or twice.”
“Has your opinion changed?”
She smiled and nodded, feeling the wind against her face, staring at the strong man sitting in front of her, using his upper body to row. He wore a gray T-shirt today and a pair of jean shorts. With every stroke of the oar, she could see his arm muscles bulge.
“Last night, when I was sitting on that hospital bed and I looked up and saw the panic in your eyes, my opinion changed.”
“Changed how?” he asked and stopped rowing.
“I knew you actually cared about me. I could see the worry in your eyes.”
“I was worried, and you’re right. I do care about you, Emily. Very much.”
Emily smiled, her hair blowing in her face.
Dante raked it away and then, in a bold move, he pulled her sunglasses from her eyes.
She squinted because of the brightness of the sun and said, “You take my sunglasses off, but you leave yours on? That’s not fair...”
He pulled his shades from his face and said, “Is that better?”
“Yes, that’s a lot better. Now I can see those gorgeous, hazel eyes of yours.”
He leaned in close to her and when she hadn’t resisted, he planted a soft kiss against her lips, tasting her in a more provocative way than he had in the hospital last night. When he pulled away from her, he noticed her eyes were still closed, the wind still blowing her hair in front of her face.
Then she opened her eyes, looked at him and smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“You, literally, almost took my breath away.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of doing to you, Emily,” he said with arrogant eyes.
Emily smiled. She knew exactly what he meant and she knew he had the tools, the passion, and desire to do whatever he claimed he would. “Can I have my sunglasses back now?”
“Sure,” he said, handing them to her.
She slid them back on his face, and he followed suit, sliding his sunglasses on as well.
“I give.”
“Huh?”
“I give. A great man once said, there’s more happiness in giving than there is in receiving.”
She nodded.
“So I give...I donate money to shelters, food banks, schools...I even formed a foundation that offers grants to help people who are suffering a loss to be able to afford therapy. Knowing that I’m helping others gives me satisfaction.”
“That’s very admirable. A lot of wealthy people don’t give money to charities or anyone else for that matter. People tend to be greedy and stingy these days.”
“You’re right.”
“I had a discussion with my friend Melanie not too long ago about how these famous people get on TV and ask the public for donations to help feed children who are living in poverty, but they got way more money than the general population...seems weird for a millionaire or billionaire to practically beg for money to help the poor when they are filthy rich and can help in ways that someone like myself can’t. I don’t get that.”
The smile on his face had her curious.
“What?” she asked.
“I can’t believe we’re actually having a conversation and you’re not trying to kill me.”
Emily looked amused. “You know what I mean though, right? About the rich...”
“Yes. I get it, but I’ll tell you why that’s the case. See, these non-profit organizations seek famous people to do commercials because they know people can relate to this person. They’re stars. Household names. People will be more apt to donate money if someone they feel like they know are the ones asking.”
Emily nodded. “Yeah. I suppose that could be the case. My point is, they can skip the commercial altogether and give the organization a few million of their own money and call it a day.”
“That’s an interesting perspective.”