When I Was Yours

by Samantha Towle

I laugh, slapping his shoulder. “No, dork. I’m just going to thank him.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “I know. I just…” I reach up on my toes and press my hands to his cheeks, his scruff tickling my palms. “I hate that you didn’t have the kind of Christmas you deserve. So, I’m going to make sure this year is your best Christmas yet, and then every year after this one, I’m going to make sure we top the year before. I mean, we’re going to spend every Christmas together from now on, right?” I don’t want to sound presumptuous.

  I know he’s as serious about me as I am about him. But I also know he’ll be leaving for school in the fall next year, which means he’ll be moving to the other side of the country, and we haven’t talked about what that will mean for us.

  He leans down and brushes his nose against mine. “You can bet your hot ass that we’ll be spending every Christmas together. I don’t want to be anywhere but with you, babe.”

  He gives my behind a squeeze, and I giggle. My fingers work their way into his long hair as he brushes his lips over mine, kissing me.

  “So, that’s what you would have done this year, if you hadn’t met me? You’d be at Max’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t think he minds you spending the holiday with me?”

  “Nah, Max is cool.”

  He kisses me one more time before releasing me. I get back to filling the cart.

  Christmas is the one time of year I don’t have to scrimp on the food I buy because, as a Christmas bonus, Grady gives us supermarket vouchers.

  God bless Grady.

  My cell starts to ring in my pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Dad.

  “Hey, we shouldn’t be much longer—” That’s when I hear the siren in the background. My heart stops. “Dad?”

  “Evie, we’re in an ambulance. Casey—she-she was fine, talking to me about what kinds of mashed potatoes she was gonna have you make for dinner tomorrow. Then, all of a sudden, her speech went all slurred, and-and then she collapsed and started convulsing. She was having a fit, Evie.” His voice breaks, and tears fill my eyes. “The paramedics stabilized her, and now, we’re heading to the hospital.”

  “Wh-which hospital are you going to?”

  “West Hills.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I-I…love you, Daddy.”

  He shudders out a breath. “Love you, too, baby.”

  I hang my phone up.

  “Evie?”

  I turn to Adam, and my lips tremble. “Casey…she-she collapsed.” My voice is wobbling all over the place. “She had a fit. Da-dad called from an ambulance. Th-they’re on their way to the hospital.”

  There’s no hesitation in him. “Let’s go.”

  He grabs my hand, taking charge, and we abandon the shopping cart before heading for the parking lot.

  “Which hospital?” Adam asks as we’re climbing into his truck.

  “West Hills. Her neurologist is at the UCLA Medical Center, but maybe they’re taking her to West Hills because it’s closer. I don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to her soon, and then we can find out what’s happening,” he reassures me.

  Adam pulls out of the lot, speeding as he does. I should tell him to slow down a little, but I don’t because I want to get to Casey as soon as possible.

  I press my head back into the headrest, shutting my eyes, as I suck in a breath.

  I know what this means. The tumor is back.

  I feel Adam’s hand curl around mine. I open my eyes and turn my head to look at him.

  “She’s gonna be fine, babe.” He looks at me with love in his eyes.

  I numbly nod my head, squeezing his hand in return, but I don’t feel his words.

  I’ve been here before, and she got better the last time. But now, she’s sick again, and I have a terrible feeling deep inside that things could be worse this time.

  Dad is pacing the waiting room in the ER when we arrive.

  “Hey.” I hug him. “How is she doing?”

  “She’s having a scan done at the moment,” he tells me, releasing me. “She was conscious and talking when they took her through. I’m just waiting for the doctor to come and tell me what’s happening.” Dad turns to Adam, acknowledging him, “Adam.”

  “Sir, I’m really sorry to hear about Casey.”

  “Call me Mick, please.” My dad gives him a weak smile. “And thank you. And thanks for getting Evie here so quickly.”

  “No problem.”

  “Dad…” I catch his attention. “Is it…back?”

  He knows what I’m asking. His eyes lower. “I don’t know, honey.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

  Adam reaches over and squeezes my hand. I step back into him, really needing the safety and warmth that only he can give me. He puts his arms around my stomach, and presses his lips to my hair.

  “Do either of you want anything?” Adam asks.

  Both Dad and I say, “No.”

  Then, we fall into this quiet silence. We’re all just standing there, lost in our thoughts, waiting for news on Casey, while we’re surrounded by other people waiting on news of their loved ones, too.

  Fortunately, we don’t have to wait too long.

  “Casey Taylor’s family?”

  We all turn at the same time. The doctor looks to be fortyish and is on the wrong side of hair loss but is faithfully clinging to what he has left.

  “I’m Dr. Prestwich,” he says, addressing us as a group. “I’m the doctor who has been treating Casey since she arrived here.”

  “I’m Casey’s dad, Mick.” My dad reaches over and shakes his hand. “And this is my eldest daughter, Evie, and her boyfriend, Adam.”

  The doctor nods at us as a greeting.

  “Right. Well, as I said, I’ve been treating Casey. She was taken down for a scan not too long ago, and while she was there, I familiarized myself with her history.” He looks down at the folder he had tucked under his arm. “Now, Casey was diagnosed with an ependymoma, grade two, brain tumor a year and a half ago. She received surgery and radiation therapy, which she finished just under a year ago, and the treatment was successful.”

  “That’s correct,” my dad says.

  “She’s been fine since? No signs of any recurring symptoms—headaches, tiredness, slurred speech, random bouts of vomiting?”

  “No. She’s been fine, like she used to be before the tumor. I mean, she’s had a touch of the flu recently, but that’s it. Today, she was complaining of feeling a bit tired, but I put it down to all the Christmas excitement. She was talking to me while I was wrapping Evie’s present. Then, just out of nowhere, she just fell to the floor and started…started having a fit.”

  Dad’s eyes glaze with tears. Hearing his words and seeing the tears in his eyes bring tears back to my own. I have to look away and bite my lip to stop from crying.

  Adam’s arm comes around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. He presses his lips to my temple.

  “Okay. So, the scan results came back, and I’ve looked at them. I’m not a neurologist specialist, but…there is definitely something showing on Casey’s brain—a shadow. I have spoken with Casey’s neurologist…Dr.…” He starts scanning his paperwork.

  “Hemmings,” Dad finishes for him.

  “Hemmings, yes. Thank you. So, yes, I spoke to Dr. Hemmings over at the UCLA Medical Center. I have had the scan sent over to him. He wants to have Casey transferred to UCLA first thing in the morning, so they can do more tests. So, she will stay here for the night.”

  “So, the tumor is back?” I manage to get out.

  The doctor looks at me. “I can’t say for sure exactly what is wrong with Casey without having further tests done. But given her history of a prior cancerous tumor to the brain…yes, it is possible that is the case. But I will emphasize not to panic because, even if the tumor has returned, it does not mean it’s cancerous this time.”

  All I can hear is, The tumor has returned.
r />   It’s happening again.

  “When can we see her?” I ask, desperate to see my sister.

  “Casey will be transferred to the children’s ward shortly. I’ll arrange for you to see her before she goes up. You can stay the night with her, if you wish, Mr. Taylor?”

  “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”

  “Right. Well, a nurse will be through soon to take you to see Casey.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Dad says.

  The doctor disappears back through the door he came in through.

  Dad turns to me.

  I can see it, the fear, in his eyes.

  My heart starts to break. I force myself to keep strong for Dad’s sake. He needs me now more than ever.

  “Mr. Taylor?” I turn to see a dark-haired lady walking toward us. “Sorry to bother you right now, but we need you to fill out some paperwork for us.”

  Dad lets out a tired-sounding breath, running his hand through his hair.

  “Is it anything I can do?” I volunteer.

  “No, it’s fine, Evie,” Dad says. “I can do it. Why don’t you and Adam grab us some drinks to have while we wait to see Casey?”

  “Okay,” I say. “Coffee?”

  “Perfect. You need some money?”

  “No, I got this.” I pat my purse.

  Adam and I walk down the hall to where we saw the coffee machine.

  “I’m so sorry, babe,” Adam says as we walk. He catches my hand, holding it.

  “Yeah, me, too. It’s not going to be much of a Christmas for you, I’m afraid. We’ll be spending it in the hospital with Casey. Maybe you should go see Max—”

  He stops me in the middle of the empty hall and turns me to him. “No way am I leaving you. I can’t believe you’d suggest it.”

  “I just want you to have a nice Christmas,” I say, thinking back to what he told me in the supermarket.

  “I will have a nice Christmas because I’ll be with you. I don’t care where I am, Evie, so long as I’m with you.”

  Tears prick my eyes again. I’m so lucky to love him and have him love me back.

  I slide my arms around his back, hugging him, and I press my cheek to his chest. His strong arms come around me. I can hear his heart beating strong and solid through his shirt.

  “I love you,” I murmur.

  “I love you, too.” His fingers brush through my hair.

  We stand there for a moment, just holding each other, until I reluctantly let go, and we start walking to the coffee machine again.

  I reach for my purse, but Adam stops me. “I’ll get these. What do you want?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  Adam gets three coffees, and I carry mine and Dad’s while Adam carries his own as we head back to the waiting room. We’re just passing by a room when I hear my dad’s voice inside, bringing me to a stop.

  “I really am sorry that I don’t have my credit card with me. It’s in my wallet at home, and I left in a rush with Casey.”

  “Like I told you before, Mr. Taylor, it’s not a problem.” It sounds like the lady from before. “Just make the payment whenever you can. You can come in and make it, or just call, and we can do it over the phone. And here’s the leaflet that I was telling you about. It describes the available payment plans. It might be worth looking into them with the level of care that Casey might need.”

  “Thank you.” My dad’s voice comes closer toward us, so I duck behind a partition wall with Adam following me.

  Payment plan. I didn’t even think about the cost for Casey’s treatment.

  We’re barely managing to get by as it is. This is going to break us.

  I close my eyes, releasing a sigh.

  “Your dad doesn’t have insurance, does he?”

  I shake my head. Then, I open my eyes. “No. He had it when he was working, but after that, he didn’t get any. Casey’s first round of treatments wiped us out, and we couldn’t afford to get insurance after that, as the premium was higher because she was already diagnosed with the illness. I don’t know how we’re going to manage the payments for her treatment now.”

  “Let me help.”

  My eyes flash to his. “No.”

  He puts his coffee down on the floor. Then, he takes both the cups from me, putting them next to his.

  He takes my face in his hands. One hand is warmer than the other from the coffee he was holding.

  “You don’t need to struggle or worry about this. I have the money to pay for whatever treatment Casey needs. Then, you can just focus on being there for her.”

  “It’s not your money. It’s your parents’ money.” That came out sounding way harsher than I’d intended.

  He drops his hands from my face and takes a step back.

  “I’m sorry.” I blow out a breath. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “You’re right. It is their money. And they do nothing good with it. I never have. Let me do something good. Let me help Casey and you and your dad.”

  “We’re not a charity case, Adam.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.”

  “I know. God, I’m sorry.” I press a hand to my head. Everything I’m saying to him right now keeps coming out wrong and bitchy.

  I reach for his hand, and he lets me take it.

  “I appreciate your offer to help. I love you for it, but I can’t accept it—not just me, but my dad, too,” I say quickly when he parts his lips to speak. “He’s a proud man. It’s hard enough for him that I work to help us make ends meet.”

  “Accepting help isn’t a weakness, Evie.”

  “I know, but…just let me handle this.”

  Letting go of my hand, he stares down at the floor, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, he looks back up, a determination on his face, and steps into my space, pressing his body to mine, holding my face with his hands. My hands go to his waist.

  “Okay, Evie. We’ll do this your way…for now. But if things get too hard, then I’m helping, no matter what you or your dad say, you hear me?”

  I curl my fingers into his shirt. “Okay,” I say.

  But as his lips touch softly to mine, I know I just lied to him for the first time because there is no way I’ll take his money.

  This is my family, and it’s my problem to solve.

  “Adam?” Mark’s voice comes through on the intercom. “A woman in reception is claiming to be…well, she says she’s your wife, and she’s demanding to see you. As far as I know, you aren’t married, but I wanted to call you first before I have security escort her from the building.”

  “Is she blonde, tiny, and goes by the name Evie?”

  “One minute. I’ll check with Serena.”

  He’s back a few seconds later. “Yes to all three.”

  I can’t help the smile that crawls onto my lips. Evie telling people that she’s my wife, demanding to see me, can only mean one thing. She’s pissed. She always was feisty when she got going. Guess that hasn’t changed.

  “Let her up. And, Mark, I don’t want this being public knowledge. Tell Serena that if I hear one word about this from anyone else or see anything in the press, she’s fired, without references, and I will personally make sure she never works in this town again.”

  “I’ll relay the message.”

  I release the button on the intercom and lean back in my chair.

  I’m not ashamed that Evie is my wife. God, the day we got married, I wanted to shout it from the rooftop.

  But Serena is a fucking gossip. She could rival Perez Hilton. And she’s made it more than clear that she wants me to fuck her. I never have for two reasons. One, she’s blonde. And two¸ I don’t fuck my staff. Too messy.

  The reason I want it kept quiet is because I don’t want Ava finding out. Not for me though. I couldn’t give a shit. I’m protecting Evie. If Ava finds out that Evie and I are still married and on our way to divorcing, she’ll go after Evie.

  On principle, Ava won’t like that
I’m giving Evie my money, but she’ll let that go. What she won’t let go of is the studio. And I know the way her mind works. She’ll see Evie as a threat to that. According to the State of California, Evie is legally entitled to fifty percent of my assets because we got married without a prenup, which would put the studio in some jeopardy if Evie decided to go after half of everything I owned.

  But she never would. I know that. However, Ava judges everyone by her own standards, which are pretty low. So, she would hurt Evie in any way she could to keep the studio.

  So, I want Ava to stay blissfully ignorant until the divorce is finalized, and then I can have the pleasure of telling her about giving Evie the money as a side bonus to telling her that I’ve signed the studio over to Richard.

  The fact that Evie’s here and pissed means she’s found out about the terms of the divorce settlement.

  I confirmed the details with my lawyer yesterday, much to his grievance—he nearly fainted when I told him of my plans—so I knew Evie would be hearing about it soon enough.

  And I knew if she was the same Evie I knew all those years ago, then she’d be pissed that I was giving her all my money. I guess I was right on that count.

  Why am I giving it to her?

  Well, partly, if she is the same person I knew, then at least I’ll get to piss her off, in the biggest way possible, one last time.

  The main reason though began, as I sat in the office with my lawyer, talking over the divorce settlement and my finances, with my life laid out on paper in front of me. It was then I realized that was all I was—money.

  I have nothing to show for my life in twenty-nine years, except for a handful of hit movies under my belt and my parents’ money.

  They’re still controlling me even now.

  I haven’t done any of the things I wanted to do.

  I’m running a business I don’t give a shit about. I’ve been living day to day, one fuck to the next fuck, and I’m just tired.

  The last time I was happy, truly happy, was with Evie, and for that, I owe her.

  But it’s more than that.

  In those days, Evie gave me freedom. When I married her, turning my back on it all—well, trying to—I gave up the money and went against my parents.

  But I went crawling back after she’d left. I went back to what I knew.