Where the Ivy Grows (#2 Bestselling Devoted Series) Page 19

  I try to ring Jen and Genoveva, but I have absolutely no signal here. I guess all the machines must be blocking my reception.

  I’m considering buying a powdered drink from the coffee machine, when I hear clipped, male footsteps. Finally. The doctor.

  The waiting room door swings open.

  I put a hand to my mouth.

  Marc strolls into the room.

  84

  'Marc!'

  I go to him. No, I don’t. I run to him. Leap at him. Throw myself into his arms and bury my head against his warm black jumper. He doesn’t say a word. He just holds me as I shake and cry and speak a load of gibberish about the awful nurse and how old my dad looks and how no one knows if he’s going to come around or not.

  Marc strokes my hair and locks his arms tight around my body. Somehow, I don’t need him to say anything. Only hold me. Eventually, my words and tears run out, and I sag against him, breathing heavily, held in his arms.

  Marc leads me to some plastic chairs, and we both sit down.

  ‘I’ve been talking to the doctor,’ says Marc. ‘Finding out about your father’s condition. There’s hope, Sophia. I promise you that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I breathe into the soft fabric of his jumper. I’m not surprised by anything – not Marc knowing I was at the hospital or him managing to talk to the doctors already. This is all just so ... Marc. And I love him for it. Truly, honestly love him. In a moment like this, no one else would do.

  ‘They’ve decided he won’t have to travel now,’ says Marc, stroking my hair. His voice is deep and soothing. ‘He’s staying put.’

  ‘How come? The nurse said they didn’t have the equipment here.’

  ‘Well. They do now. Do you need anything? Food? Hot chocolate?’

  I shake my head. ‘No, it’s fine. I just ... will you stay with me? That’s all I want right now.’

  ‘Do you think I’d leave you at a time like this?’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head so fiercely that my hair flies around. ‘Never.’

  85

  The night struggles on. I sit with Marc, watching the clock tick, tick, tick, and waiting for news. It’s torture.

  At 2am, a doctor in a white coat peers around the waiting room door. He has thick black glasses and is very short – almost child height.

  ‘Sophia Rose?’

  ‘Yes.’ I stand up and Marc stands with me.

  ‘I’m here to give you an update on your father. He’s ... it’s not looking good.’

  My face crumples, and I feel myself leaning into Marc’s chest.

  Marc puts an arm around my shoulder. ‘Could you clarify ‘not looking good’?’

  The doctor pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘He’s been unconscious for a long time. In these instances, it’s wise to prepare for the worst.’

  Marc glares at him. ‘Prepare for the worst? That’s not a medical term I’m familiar with. Hospitals are in the business of saving lives, are they not? If you’ve written him off before he’s even had a brain scan, then we’re in trouble.’

  ‘I just thought I’d keep you updated -’

  ‘And we appreciate that. But a little positivity wouldn’t go amiss.’

  ‘Yes, well ...’ says the doctor meekly, leaving the waiting room.

  Marc takes his phone from his pocket and dials a number.

  ‘Who are you calling?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m bringing in some specialist medical assistance. The best people I can find. I have no doubt the people here are trying their best. But they’re limited by their experiences. I’m going to find someone who’s dealt with a case like your father’s before.’

  I slump onto a plastic chair. ‘Preparing for the worst,’ I murmur.

  Marc frowns and puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t even start thinking that way. It won’t help you or your father. You have to think positive. Something that doctor doesn’t seem to understand. Damn it!’ He looks at his phone. ‘No reception. Sophia, are you okay if I head outside for a moment?’

  I nod stiffly.

  ‘I won’t be long.’ He takes my hand and kisses my fingers. ‘I promise.’

  Five minutes later, I see Marc pacing back and forth in the hospital car park, barking instructions into his phone. I stare at the stars above him in the night sky, wishing, wishing that my dad will be okay.

  I don’t know how, but I manage to doze for a few hours against Marc’s shoulder. When I wake, dawn is trailing its muddy grey fingers across the rising sun.

  I turn to Marc. He’s wide awake, bolt upright, watching me. If he’s tired, he doesn’t look it.

  ‘Sophia. You’re awake.’

  ‘Did you sleep at all?’ I murmur, my throat croaky with old tears.

  He shakes his head. ‘I can do without sleep. But I’m glad you got some rest. There’s good news.’

  ‘News?’ I clamber up, my hands clinging to Marc’s arms.

  ‘Your father came around. The scan showed a blood clot that’s now been removed. He’s going to be okay.’

  I jump from the seat. ‘Oh my god. He’s going to be okay? Really? He’s awake?’

  Marc smiles. ‘He’s talking a little, apparently. You can go see him.’

  86

  Dad is propped up in bed against four pillows, looking weirdly alert and fresh for someone in a hospital bed. I knew I’d break down when I saw him again, and I do.

  ‘Dad,’ I blubber, hurrying towards him.

  ‘Hello, love.’ His words are a little tired, but he still sounds like my dad, and the tears come even more fiercely.

  When I reach the bed, I take his hands in mine. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like I got hit by a car,’ says Dad, pulling a smile onto his face. The cover moves a little as he pulls himself up, and I see huge black bruises along his shoulder.

  ‘Trust you to joke at a time like this,’ I say, trying to return his smile. ‘I was so worried. I still am.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, petal. Not about me. I’m fine. Absolutely fine and dandy. I need to thank that fella of yours, is he around?’

  ‘Marc?’ I turn to the doorway. ‘He’s in the waiting area.’

  ‘Well. You tell him if it wasn’t for him, I might not have made it. Tell him that. Without that equipment -’

  ‘Equipment?’

  ‘He donated a new scanner to the hospital. Didn’t he tell you? Without that, things could have turned out very differently.’

  I shake my head. ‘No. He didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Modest and generous. You don’t get many men like that around.’ Dad starts coughing, and grimaces in pain.

  ‘Hey.’ I squeeze his hands. ‘You just rest, now.’

  ‘I probably should have a sleep. Let the bruises heal. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ I smile at him. ‘You sleep. I’ll try and track down Genoveva. Tell her you’re okay.’

  ‘She’s not here?’ Dad’s face falls. ‘What about Sam?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I say. ‘I’m sure they’re on their way. I’ll leave you to sleep.’

  87

  Out in the hallway, Marc is waiting. ‘Thank you,’ I tell him. ‘For everything. Without you ...’

  ‘You have nothing to thank me for,’ Marc interrupts.

  ‘I’m so relieved,’ I say, putting a hand to my chest. ‘Just to see him ... awake and talking ... oh my god.’ I take my phone from my pocket. ‘I need to go to the car park and phone Genoveva.’

  We both head outside.

  To Genoveva’s credit, she answers the phone on the first ring.

  ‘He’s come around,’ I blurt out, without waiting for her to speak. ‘I just spoke to him. He’s going to be okay. They say he’ll make a full recovery.’

  ‘When will he be coming home?’ Genoveva asks.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I can’t stand this!’ Genoveva shouts. ‘I’m here all alone with Samuel.’

  I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or the trauma of w
hat’s just happened, but something inside me snaps.

  ‘Genoveva,’ I say, my voice measured. ‘My father is in hospital right now. He could have died. Stop thinking of yourself for a change and think of him. Okay? He’d like to see you and Sam. So. If you haven’t got anything better to do, get yourself in a taxi and get to the hospital. Right now.’

  I hear something like a whimper, and then a very chastised Genoveva says, ‘Alright. Yes, okay, I’m on my way.’

  Genoveva arrives soon after my call and sobs on my shoulder while Dad sleeps.

  When Dad wakes up, I warn her not to stress him about domestic stuff, and to my surprise, she doesn’t. She asks him about the accident and how he’s feeling, but never once talks about how she’s going to cope.

  Marc stays with me the whole time. He doesn’t say much, but he’s there. A rock of support. He even plays with Sam, taking him out in the hospital grounds and buying him a bag of jelly tots. It’s so cute to see him with a little boy, and my mind starts to wander, thinking of Marc and me with our own baby to chase around.

  No, Sophia. Stop dreaming.

  Genoveva leaves at five o'clock to give Samuel his tea, and I see Dad again. He looks fresher than this morning. More awake. And the hospital staff are talking about discharging him tomorrow.

  ‘You should go, love,’ Dad says. ‘You look exhausted. Everything’s going to be fine now. Get some rest. I’d offer to drive you, but ...’ He gestures to the bed, and we both laugh. ‘Is that fella of yours still here?’

  ‘Yes. But he’s not my fella. Not anymore.’

  ‘Shame.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Go on, love. Go home. I’ll just be sleeping from now on. You can call if you need to – the nurse said so. Go on. Get some rest.’

  I rub my eyes and realise he’s right. I’m absolutely exhausted.

  ‘Okay.’ I kiss him on the forehead. ‘I’ll see you very soon, you hear?’

  88

  When I head back to the waiting room, I find Marc by the coffee machine, dropping pound coin after pound coin into the slot. Five beige cups of brown coffee stand on a nearby table.

  I watch as another cup rattles down, followed by steaming water.

  ‘Who’s all the coffee for?’ I ask.

  Marc carries on inserting coins. ‘The staff. I thought they could probably use a hot drink.’

  ‘Very thoughtful.’ I give a tired smile. ‘Dad thinks I should head home. Get some rest.’

  Marc turns to me. ‘Yes, I think that’s an excellent idea. You need to rest. I’ll call Keith. Have him drop you off.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Marc gives the tiniest of smiles. ‘I’m glad you didn’t argue about that.’

  ‘I don’t have the energy.’

  It’s raining when we reach the hospital car park.

  When we reach the car, Marc turns to me. ‘I’ll stay with you if you need me to. You don’t have to be alone.’

  I feel rain splash on my nose and forehead as I look up at him. ‘Will you? Will you stay with me?’

  ‘As long as Leo wouldn’t have anything to say about it.’

  I shake my head. ‘We’re just friends.’

  Marc smiles. ‘Get in the car, Sophia, before you get drenched.’

  89

  The car feels safe and warm and achingly familiar. We’ve had some times in this car, Marc and I. They swirl around in my head as Marc slides onto the seat beside me.

  ‘Put your seatbelt on.’

  ‘Oh. Is it not on?’

  ‘No.’ Marc pulls the belt over me and clips it in place. Then he knocks on the glass between us and Keith. The plate slides aside.

  ‘The townhouse, Keith,’ Marc instructs.

  ‘Right you are, Marc.’ The glass slides closed.

  ‘The townhouse?’ I ask, rubbing cold, rain-soaked arms.

  ‘I can take care of you there.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Still too tired to argue?’

  I nod.

  ‘I’ll have to remember the effect exhaustion has on you.’

  We drive on in silence, me staring out at the city, my eyes glazed. In my head, I’m so relieved that Dad is okay, but the emotion of the last twenty-four hours, plus the lack of sleep, makes this all feel like a dream. Nothing seems real, especially not sitting next to Marc.

  I fall asleep again during the drive, and the next thing I know, I’m being carried up Marc’s wide staircase and placed carefully on his bed.

  ‘I haven’t been here for a while,’ I murmur as a soft duvet is laid over me. ‘Are there any strange guests I should know about this time?’

  Marc smiles. ‘No one. Annabel’s still in clinic. She’s doing very well by all accounts. I’ll stay with you. Until you fall asleep.’

  ‘Is that a good idea?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On?’

  ‘On whether you’ll forgive me.’

  I prop myself onto my elbows. ‘Forgive you?’

  ‘I realised something today. I can never keep you totally safe. Life will always throw things that I’m not expecting. But I can keep you a damned sight safer if I’m by your side.’

  My eyes widen. ‘Marc? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

  He nods.

  ‘But ... what about the press?’

  ‘There’ll always be obstacles. Dangers. I gave in to my fear before. I couldn’t bear anything happening to you. But ... that fear didn’t go away when we weren’t together.’

  ‘So you’ll let me make my own decisions? Even if you think they’re unsafe?’

  ‘It will be tough to watch you out there in the big bad world, but nothing can be tougher than being away from you. I was wrong to try and make decisions for you. I gave in to my own fears. I have to let you make your own choices.’

  Even though I’m tired, a smile spreads all the way across my face. ‘We can ... are you saying there’s a chance for us?’

  ‘Yes.’ He kisses my forehead. ‘If you’ll have me. But I don’t want you making any decisions right now. You’re tired. Emotional. You don’t want to be making any rash choices right now.’

  I look up at his handsome face.

  We gaze at each other, and time stands still.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching up, pushing my fingers through his thick hair and pulling his head towards mine. His lips come closer and suddenly they touch my own.

  My body reacts before I completely realise what’s happening, and my mouth moves over his as I cling to him, warmth rushing around me.

  Marc frowns. Then he responds, kissing me deeply, passionately, his mouth pushed softly against mine, his arms pulling me closer.

  My skin tingles and the hairs on my arms stand up. I hear little sighs and murmurs, and realise they’re coming from me.

  Marc’s chest is heaving, and his neck is red and thick.

  ‘Stop me now,’ he says, his voice low. ‘Before I go too far. This isn’t the right time.’

  ‘I don’t want you to stop,’ I whisper, my hands clinging to his shoulders. He feels so good under my fingers. I reach a hand into his thick hair again, and my fingers tighten as I pull his head towards me.

  He kisses me again, and I melt into the bed. His eyes tell me he’s only just holding it together, and I know exactly how he feels.

  ‘Make love to me Marc,’ I whisper, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him close.

  He lets out a moan and kisses me harder, scooping his hands around my buttocks and pulling me tight.

  I feel him hard against my stomach, and my breathing quickens.

  Marc pulls away from my mouth, shoulders rising and falling. He takes in a few long, deep breaths. ‘No.’

  I can tell by the crumple on his forehead that this is painful for him.

  ‘Marc?’

  ‘We can’t do this. Not now. Not like this. You’re not thinking straight. I’d be taking advantage.’

  ‘No. You wouldn’t. I know my
own mind and I want you.’

  ‘You’re emotional. It wouldn’t be right to do things this way.’

  ‘Please,’ I whisper.

  Marc sits on the bed. ‘I ... can’t. I won’t be able to control myself. And that wouldn’t be right. Not after what you’ve just been through. I should go.’

  ‘Don’t leave.’ I shake my head, tears appearing.

  ‘I have to.’ He kisses my forehead. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t be alone. I’ll take care of that.’

  ‘What? You’re leaving the house? Where are you going?’

  ‘Just ... somewhere.’ Marc rubs his hand over his forehead. ‘Let’s just say I have something to do that will help me be the person you want.’

  ‘The person I want would stay here.’

  ‘I can’t right now. Just ... trust me.’ Marc looks away. He stands. ‘I need to leave. You won’t be alone. Rodney is here, and I’ll have Jen driven over to keep you company.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘There’s something I need to do.’

  ‘And you can’t tell me what it is?’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell right now.’ He puts on his shirt and does up the buttons. ‘I’ll have Jen picked up. I have her number and address.’

  ‘You have Jen’s number and address?’

  That quirky smile. ‘I like to keep certain details that might be important in locating your whereabouts and keeping you safe.’

  I shake my head in disbelief. ‘How did you get those certain details?’

  Marc opens the wardrobe and throws on a suit jacket. ‘Don’t ask me too many questions, Sophia. Especially not right now.’

  He stalks out of the room, and I’m left sitting there in my underwear. I half want to stick my tongue out at the closed door, but that would make me feel even more like a chastised child.

  So here we are again. Close for a moment, then something pulls us apart.

  90

  Half an hour later, I get a call from Jen.

  ‘What’s going on Soph? Is everything okay?’