Authors: Kate Dawes
She had duct tape wrapped around her head, covering her mouth, but not her nose. Her hair was a wreck and when the white light shone on her, I could see a welt on the side of her face.
I wanted to pass out. Maybe die right there.
“Let’s go,” the paramedic said, and Max jumped in the back of the ambulance.
“I’m riding with her.”
“Wait. I want to see Krystal.”
The paramedic closed the back doors of the ambulance. “We’ll find out how she’s doing, ma’am.”
“Olivia,” Max said sternly, “what the fuck is happening?”
I told him on the way to the hospital.
THIRTEEN
I was in an ER examination room, waiting for them to take a look at my x-rays. The doctor was pretty sure I had broken at least one rib, but wanted to take a look and see how bad the damage was.
Max went to get an update on Krystal and came back about fifteen minutes later with the news that other than the contusion on her cheek, she was going to be fine. At least as far as injuries went. She would be released that night, and Max had promised the doctor she was going straight to a rehab center in Beverly Hills. He said the doctor knew right away that she had a problem. She’d been exhibiting early symptoms of withdrawal.
The next thing to worry about: my parents. Call them right away? Wait until morning?
Max said to wait until the morning. “They’ll be leaving tomorrow. Let them sleep.”
“They’ll be pissed.”
“Do you think they’ll want to stay longer now?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want them to have to do that. Oh, God. We had a fight last night.” I told him all about it.
When I was finished filling him in he said, “Call them.”
He was right. It was the right thing to do.
He handed me my phone and I called Grace.
“Oh my God!” she yelled, when I told her where I was and why.
“Grace. Calm down. I’m going to be fine. I just need you to go wake Mom and Dad. You guys can come down here.”
“Okay. Okay.” She was almost breathless.
“Grace?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to be fine. Make sure you tell them that.”
Sometimes I had to be the more controlled, mature one between us.
While we waited for them to arrive, I gave a statement to the police. I was nervous at first, but the pain killers were really starting to kick in. Plus, the officer who interviewed me looked really sympathetic to what had happened to me.
“Was there any sexual contact with the assailant?” the officer asked.
Max looked at me and lowered his head, looking at the floor. He hadn’t asked me that, and I guess he was feeling some guilt over it. I reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
Max let out a heavy sigh and squeezed my hand back.
“I think we have all we need for now,” the cop said. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Max blurted: “Where is he?”
“Being fixed up as best they can here. Then he’s off to jail. There’ll be an arraignment Monday morning, most likely.”
I said, “Do I have to be there?”
“No, ma’am.”
I thought for a moment. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“Well,” the officer said, putting his pen back in his shirt pocket, “the assault on you will carry a good bit of time. But the major thing is the kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?”
“Yes, ma’am. When he took your roommate—what’s her name… Ms. Sherman?”
I nodded.
“That was kidnapping,” the officer said. “And that carries hefty time. It’ll be years before he sees the outside of a prison again.”
“Good,” Max said.
And then an awkward moment happened. The cop recognized Max and gushed over his movies. Max was gracious about it, and the cop didn’t go on too long, or ask for an autograph or anything else. He just shook Max’s hand and said, “If there’s anything you or your girlfriend need, give me a call.” He gave Max his card, Max thanked him, and the cop was gone.
It was a disaster when my parents got there. In their minds, their worst nightmare had come true and their suspicions and fears about LA were confirmed.
My mom ran over to try to hug me, but I had to fend her off because it would have hurt. Dad kissed my forehead. Grace cried and hugged my legs.
“Tell me what happened,” Dad said.
I recounted the whole story for them, and they stood there in shock. Chris? The guy they thought would be and
should be
my future husband did this?
Why, yes. Yes, he did.
“It’s my fault,” Grace kept saying.
The whole sordid story came out. And I told my parents everything.
I also told them about Max, who had offered to leave the room for a little while so I could see my family without having to explain who he was right away. He said he’d be down in the hospital cafeteria and for me to text him when I wanted him to come back.
“Olivia,” Mom said, “why haven’t you been truthful with us?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know why. Ninety percent of our conversations are about how I’ve made the wrong decision. About my major in college, about moving to LA, everything.”
She started to say something.
I stopped her. “Let me finish. Please. For once. Look, I understand why you guys doubt what I’m doing. I get it. You care about me. But it’s too much. Way too much. And all this time you’ve been worried about something happening to me out here, the only time it did was when someone from back home came all the way out here, like a crazy person, to hurt me.”
I looked at them and let that sink in.
Mercifully, the doctor came into the room at that point.
“Well, I see we have the whole family here.” He said it almost cheerily, which I kind of liked. There’s nothing worse than a doctor with a grim bedside manner.
The doctor introduced himself to my parents and then asked me if I wanted to go over the x-rays alone.
“We’re her parents,” my father said.
“Yes, but she’s an adult. I can’t discuss her medical issues around anyone else without her permission.”
“It’s okay,” I said. I really just wanted to get it over with and get out of there.
The doctor confirmed that I had one broken rib.
“Nothing much to do for it. Just rest and some pain medication.”
Everyone looked relieved.
The doctor continued: “Do you live with your parents?”
“No.”
“Alone?”
“No. Well, I have a roommate, but—”
“I gotcha,” the doctor said. “Sorry, I forgot for a minute. It’s been a little crazy here tonight. It might be a good idea if you stayed with your parents.” He looked at them. “Just to make sure she’s okay for the next couple of days. Nothing major.”
“We don’t live here,” Dad said. I noticed his voice was softer. He sounded almost as if he had become resigned to the idea that I was on my own.
“And we’re supposed to leave to go home today,” Mom said.
Grace was holding the baby, who was sleeping, and whispered, “Maybe we should stay.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I know what I can do.”
FOURTEEN
Max walked into the hospital room a few minutes after I texted him.
He was a gentleman, referring to my parents as Mrs. Rowland and Mr. Rowland, and telling Grace it was a pleasure to meet her. He stuck is finger out like he was going to poke my baby niece but instead she grabbed on to it.
I think after telling my parents about Max they had the idea that when he got to the room, he’d walk in with an entourage and paparazzi snapping pictures. I’m pretty sure they were expecting him to walk in and be flashy, arrogant, aloof, and all the other clichés people associate with Hollywood.
But Max, as always, couldn’t have been more down to earth, and I think that threw them for a loop.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have gotten there sooner after Olivia called,” he said to my family.
Before anyone else could respond I said, “You’re not Batman, you know.”
He flashed me his smile.
My parents laughed for the first time in…well, as long as I could remember.
He was only there a few minutes before my dad said, “Mind if we talk out in the hall?”
Max didn’t hesitate. “Not at all.”
As the two left the room, I thought:
Oh, no. My dad’s going to chase him off. Probably try to talk Max into taking their side in the debate over whether I should go back home to Ohio.
But Max wouldn’t do that, I knew. Still, it was probably going to be uncomfortable for him, and I hated that thought.
Grace said, “Wow. Just…wow.”
My mother looked at her. “What’s wow?”
Grace’s mouth fell open. “Uh, hello, Mother? Did you not see how hot Olivia’s boyfriend is?”
For the first time in my life, I saw a look on my mother’s face that she probably wished she would never let her daughters see. It was just the slightest raising of the eyebrows, and the corner of her mouth turned up a little.
“Looks aren’t as important as what’s on the inside,” Mom said. She looked at me.
Grace looked at me, waiting for me to defend Max, probably expecting me to rattle off a list of all of his good qualities.
But I didn’t. I just said, “I love him. I do. I really do.”
I started to tear up. My mom came to the bedside and put her hand on mine and just smiled.
My parents met with the doctor again and he reassured them that my injury was minor, and that I’d be fine.
While they were talking with the doctor in the hall, Grace said she was going to change the baby’s diaper somewhere. Max and I had a few moments alone.
“What did you and my dad talk about?”
He was rubbing my forearm. “Mostly football. He wanted to know who I had in the Super Bowl.”
“Shut up.”
Max smiled. “No. Really, it was a good talk. He told me he wasn’t happy with you being here, but he knew you were going to do what you wanted.”
“I wish he’d admit that to my face.”
“Yeah,” Max said, “well, take what you can get. He asked me where I was from, things like that. I think he liked the fact that I’m a Midwesterner.”
I rolled my eyes. “He can be kind of territorial like that.”
“Did you tell them about leaving the agency?”
I shook my head.
“Didn’t think so,” he said. “Because your dad looked kind of surprised when I told him you were going to be my assistant and editor.”
My eyebrows shot up my head. “Editor?”
“Well, yeah. First reader, gatekeeper. Honest with me when I write something shitty.”
I just smiled. This was going to be so good.
“He also asked what my intentions were with you.”
I laughed and covered my mouth.
“Not like
that
,” he said. “But don’t you think for a second that it ever leaves my mind.”
“Even when I’m looking like this? Like shit?”
He shook his head. “You’re always gorgeous.”
“So do I get to go home with you?”
“That’s another thing he wanted to know. If I’d look after you. I told him yes, and not just until you’re healed.”
My emotions were over the top. There was no controlling them. I needed to tell him how I felt. I needed to see the look on his face when I told him. And I needed to do it before he went through with the promises he’d made to my father.
“I love you.”
Those three words. Three powerful words. The three words I needed to say to him. But they hadn’t come out of my mouth. They came out of his. Suddenly. Without warning. Right at the time I was going to say that to him. Once again, it was like he could read my mind.
“Come closer and kiss me,” I said.
Max leaned over and placed his lips gently on mine.
Through our kiss I said a somewhat muffled, “I love you. I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now.”
We heard the door handle click and Max pulled away.
FIFTEEN
Two weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, I woke from a nap to the sound of my phone ringing. It was my parents checking in. They had called every day for the last two weeks.
Conversations with my parents had changed for the better. No arguing. No bickering. No hassling me over my life choices. They even talked to Max a couple of times. Short conversations, and from what I could hear on his end, they were mostly trying to get him to confirm the progress I was making health-wise.
I wasn’t one-hundred percent healed, but I was feeling much better. The pain-killers played a big part in that, too.
When I talked to Grace, she asked about Krystal.
“She’s been in rehab for two weeks. I haven’t gone to visit her and she’s not allowed to have her own phone, but she called a couple of days ago and sounded really good.”
“I heard her parents are there.”
“Yeah, she said that. They were trying to get her transferred but she’s not covered by insurance, so she’s staying here.”
Grade said, “Max paid for it all?”
“Yeah.”
“You better not let him get away.”
Max had laid down with me, but he was no longer in the bed. I thought maybe he’d gone for a run.
I made my way from his bedroom—
our
bedroom, now that I was living with him permanently—down the stairs and into the large, open den. The view outside was gorgeous. A bright, clear day in Los Angeles. A rare event, to say the least.
Max was sitting in a large leather chair with his feet up on an ottoman. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand, and a blue editing pen in the other. His laptop was on the coffee table. I stood there at the foot of the stairs for a few minutes, watching the man I love engrossed in the work he loved so much.
He did a double-take when he noticed me standing there.
“How long have you been there?” he said.
“Just a couple of minutes.”
“Well, come here.”
I walked over to him. He put the script aside and held out his arms, lowering me onto his lap.
Both of us were still in our nap-wear. He wore just a pair of cotton workout shorts. I had on a t-shirt and panties.