Mendacious (19 page)

“No.”

Wait, could she be pregnant?

I don’t have a fucking clue and now the paramedic’s looking at me suspiciously. It’s a question I’m supposed to know the answer to, but I don’t. Has she been sleeping with that other prick? Could she be pregnant?

“I’m not sure. She hasn’t said anything to me.”

But why would she? We’ve barely spoken.

The male paramedic nods and he doesn’t ask any further questions; not that I would answer them anyway. He needs to just keep his attention on Libby and make sure that she’s alright above everything else.

~

With the sirens blaring and the bright blue flashing lights, it doesn’t take us long to get to the hospital. When we arrive, I stay in my seat as the paramedics throw open the doors and carefully carry the trolley out. The wheels flop down and then I’m beside them in an instant, rushing through the Accident and Emergency department, and following them through into a room filled with waiting trauma nurses and doctors.

The male paramedic reels off what I think sounds like a chunk from a medical textbook, and then leaves everyone to it. He slaps me on the back and gives me a brief nod before he and his partner head back through A&E to their ambulance.

“Sir, can you come with me?” A nurse appears beside me and gently pulls on my arm as a swarm of medical staff descend on Libby. I can’t tear my eyes from her as I watch them cutting the clothes from her body. “Sir ...” The nurse pulls me again, but I resist.

“Please, let me stay.”

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid you have to come with me. The doctors know what they’re doing, so she will be safe in hands. It’s just best if you aren’t around them while they are trying to work.”

I nod my head, but I know I don’t want to leave her. Not when she’s like this ... she
needs
me. I’m the one that was there for her and I’m the one she held onto as the ambulance arrived. It’s
me
she needs in her life. I’m always the one there to pick up the pieces.

“I understand she is your wife.” The nurse gives me a sad smile after leading me to a waiting room and putting a cup of twenty pence coffee from a nasty dispenser machine in front of me. “They will do everything they can.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, wrapping my hands around the steaming cup, feeling the heat seep through my skin, warming my cold and stagnant blood.

Awareness over where I am washes over me and puts me completely in a daze. My throat becomes dry and my chest starts to ache. Libby is unconscious and I don’t know if she is going to wake-up. There is still so much between us that needs to be said, and I dread the thought of not being able to tell her what’s been playing on mind, and that
she
has been in my head everyday for the last seven years.

She’s the girl I can’t forget.

The girl I
can’t
and
won’t
live without any longer.

But will she accept me as I am? After everything we’ve been through and all of the lies and schemes we’ve both played our part in, will she just push all of that aside?

A small part of me hopes for the best, but it’s just a delusional thought I’m having in the midst of a crisis. I’m over thinking things, which is odd for me, but I’ve noticed happening a lot lately. It’s unsettling. I’m not sure I like this change. I feel like I’m turning into a fucking female with all this hormonal, emotional shit going on.

“Get a grip,” I scold, picking up the cheap arse coffee and taking a small sip. “Shit.” I stick out my tongue with disgust as the taste coats my mouth.

Water.

I need water.

Getting up from the chair, I wander out into the hall, past the nurses’ station and find a water dispenser. Filling a plastic cup to the top and draining the contents, I feel much more refreshed.

Then I realise I’m out in the hall again and free to find Libby. So I walk back the way we came in and follow the rooms till I’m stood outside. There is a glass window on the door and I can see two doctors stood over Libby with clipboards in their hands. They’re talking between them, but every couple of seconds, one of them looks in her direction.

She appears stable, which brings me some element of relief. There are bandages wrapped around different parts of her body and she has been hooked up to an IV drip. Her eyes are still closed though which I don’t like. I thought she’d be awake by now. Maybe even demanding to see me and shouting orders, but she is completely silent.

The doctor starts scribbling something on his clipboard, and I’m intrigued to know what’s going on considering nobody has been out to see me. Although, I suppose I don’t really have any right as her ex-husband after all, but they don’t know that.

Pushing open the door with a loud creak, I startle both doctors, who turn and look at me in the doorway. I probably look like shit which doesn’t help my case.

“She’s my wife,” I croak, crossing the room toward them. “How is she doing? When will she regain consciousness? Is she on pain relief?” The questions continue to fire from my mouth like word vomit and I have no intentions of stopping. I want to know
everything
that’s going on. “Are the wounds bad? Does she have any internal damage? Do you have any scans booked?”

One of the doctors wrinkles his brow. “I’m sorry. Did you say you are her husband?” The icy glare I shoot him answers his question and he immediately clears his throat.

“The bloods should be back any moment, so we can look at treatment once we have the results and have ruled out that your wife isn’t pregnant. We’ll give you some time alone for a couple of minutes.” He nods at the other doctor and they both leave the room.

“Bastards haven’t got a clue,” I grumble, moving to the foot of the bed and placing my hands on the end of the bed frame. “Jesus, Libby, look at what that little shit did to you.” My fingers grip the metal frame with such force my knuckles turn white.

I want to kill him.

The little shit doesn’t deserve to take another breath for what he has done tonight. He has put an innocent woman in the hospital, and for what, a designer handbag and a mobile phone?

The machine next to Libby’s bed makes an unexpected beep. My knee jolts into the end of the metal bed frame from the shock and I knock the folder with Libby’s medical records to the floor.

“Bollocks,” I mutter, bending down to pick-up the open file. It’s open on the first page of her notes and I try my hardest to resist the temptation I feel to take a sneak peak.

But one quick glance wouldn’t hurt?

That’s what I keep telling myself as I scan my eyes down the notes of her previous hospital admissions.

A swollen ankle.

Stitches to her hand.

They all seem pretty normal to me, until I continue reading to the bottom and I see that she has been admitted for something else. A reason my brain can’t even process after I’ve read the line over and over at least ten times.

“I don’t believe it,” I whisper into the open room, my eyes wide over what I’ve just uncovered. And then I read the date of her admission and feel the ground give way beneath my feet.

Sinking to the floor, my knees hit first and I struggle to catch my breath. The file slips from my hand and clatters against the cold tile. My chest tightens to the point of immense pain, and I brace my hand on the bed frame as a torrent of agony wreaks havoc and assaults every fibre of my being. The old thoughts come rushing to the forefront of my mind.

I am a failure.

I failed my wife.

It’s no wonder she left me.

But this ... how did I not know about the miscarriage?

“Excuse me, sir?” A nurse appears in the room and startles me. She spots the file on the floor. “I was just looking for that. The doctor said he left it in here earlier, and I was just about to update her records on the system.”

I simply nod and hand her the file.

There’s nothing I can say right now.

Stretching my arm around her, I tuck Libby’s soft, warm body against mine, and nuzzle my face against the silky smoothness of her hair.

“Shit,” I mutter, feeling the sharp sting of a hairpin catching the side of my face.

Libby laughs lightly. “What did you do?”

Running my hand across the side of my cheek, I grumble under my breath, “Stupid hairpins.”

“Oh, shit,” Libby props her weight on her elbows, “I forgot they were still in. Sorry, baby.” She smoothes her fingertips across my skin, obliterating my pain in an instant, just from her healing touch.

I close my eyes and sigh. “You are going to be the death of me, you know? How could I have landed the most perfect girl in the world?”

Libby smiles coyly and I can’t help but press a kiss against those sweet, plump lips of hers. They’re irresistible. And I know I’m lucky to have her.

My wife.

The future mother of my children.

Our perfect little family.

“I can’t wait for you to be carrying my baby,” I murmur, stroking my hand over her flat stomach. “It’s going to be the most amazing moment of my life when you give birth to our child.”

Libby sighs blissfully. “I can’t wait to start our family.”

~

Reliving the conversation we shared on our wedding night is absolute torture to my already shattered heart. Libby and I had already discussed starting a family that night, both of us excited for the next step in our lives, but it obviously wasn’t supposed to be.

It had started with the promises I’d been told at work. I had been virtually lured into a web of lies that had me believing that if I was able to put in the hours required, I would eventually receive the absolute world; so that was what I did for the sake of our future. But clearly, the consequence of that meant our family plans had to be put on hold.

Libby had said it wasn’t that big of a deal at the time, and she wanted us to be living comfortably before we started our family; her materialistic side had been creeping in slowly at this point. Her mind awash with all the things she wanted in life before we started our family. A bigger house, expensive clothes and a fancy car were all top of her list.

And now look at us. We’re divorced and I didn’t even know that she lost a baby.

My
baby.

Our baby.

I’m empty inside as I stare down at the woman I thought I knew. She’s lying unconscious in the hospital bed, and she just seems so different to me.

I don’t know anything about her.

I was completely wrong about Libby. She kept the ultimate of secrets from me over the last seven years, which I’m guessing was the main decider in her decision to divorce.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” I growl, bringing my hand up to my mouth to gnaw lightly at the skin on my knuckles.

My head wants to explode from the building pressure. I want to shout and curse to the heavens.

“What happened to my baby, Libby? I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant, and why you went through the miscarriage alone.” My hand comes down hard on the metal bed frame and I let out a deep sigh.

I need to get some air.

Turning on the spot, I push through the door, head back along the corridor, and exit through the main waiting area.

The chilly night air attacks me as soon as the automatic doors open. Tilting my head back and closing my eyes, I welcome the bitter sting that flickers across my skin.

How the fuck did all this happen?

Letting out a deep exhale, I press my back against the wall and focus on the people passing backwards and forwards through the Accident and Emergency department. They’ve all got their own problems, like me. Everyone has their secrets. It’s just that some are bigger than others.

She lost your child, Alex … Libby was pregnant with your baby.

The more I think about it, the more the realisation hurts. We had the chance of a family, but it was taken away without me knowing.

Shit.

But Libby doesn’t even know that I’ve found out. I mean, was I ever supposed to find out? Was she going to keep this little secret forever and not bother telling me? Who knows.

“You?”

My deep thought process is interrupted by a vicious snarl in my direction. Lifting my head, I’m quick to spot the body barrelling toward me, a delicate designer tote bag clutched in one hand, a tightly coiled fist in the other.

Bastard.

Pushing back from the wall, I roll my sleeves up my arms, and simply … wait. He’s obviously got something he wants to say, so I’ll let him get it out first, before I tell the scummy, little, fucking lowlife what I think of him.

“What are you doin’ here?” he growls, eyeing me up and down from a safe distance. Clearly he hasn’t got the balls to come at me.

I arch an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest with amusement. “It’s not so nice to see you either, Dale,” I retort, my tone icily cold and unfriendly. This bastard doesn’t deserve my pleasantries.

“Fuck you! Where is my sister?” he demands, edging closer. “A girl said she saw her being put in the back of an ambulance with some bloke …
you
.” He pauses when he notices the dried blood on my hands, his posture stiffening. “W-What happened?”

“You’d better go in and see your sister,” is all I say, dismissing him with a cock of my head toward the doors.

This conversation is over.

For now …

~

I probably should have gone home after Dale went inside to see Libby. But I didn’t. Instead, I made my way into the waiting room, found a cold metal chair, and parked my arse down with my phone so I could check some e-mails and try and take my mind off things.

And I’m still here now.

I haven’t moved.

I’m a bloody fool and asking for trouble, but I don’t feel like I can leave until I know she’s awake. People have been coming and going for the last thirty minutes, and in that time, I’ve just sat here deciding whether I should see her one last time or not.

It’s pretty clear that what I’ve learned tonight is enough to finally push me over the edge. She isn’t healthy for me. Between us we are poison. The toxic substance that runs through our veins is too much for either one of us to stomach. This love ... it is deadly. And I fear it’s going to eventually kill one of us.

But will I regret sitting here and not going in?

Most probably.

But can I go in there with that knobhead lurking?

Probably not.

There is a target over Dale’s head. He is the bounty and Sean, Benedict and I are the hunters. I want nothing more than to rip his head off and ram my fist down the back of his throat. But I have a bit more class than doing something like that in a hospital. However, if that fucker starts with me first, then of course I’ll finish him off. And he’ll be in the right place at the end of it too.

“Come on, Libby,” I mutter under my breath, spotting a couple of nurses coming into the waiting room to collect a couple of patients.

I’m getting impatient.

For all I know, she could be sitting up in bed having a laugh and joke while I’m out here. And it isn’t like that bastard is going to come and get me anytime soon.

Just go home.

My head tells me to just leave. She has her brother after all, so she isn’t on her own.

But my heart disagrees.

It aches.

The deadly poison lures me in.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I get up and take a slow, casual walk to the lady working on the reception desk. She’s busy tapping away on her keyboard, but looks up when I clear my throat.

“Can you let me through the security door, please?” I nod at the double doors the nurses and doctors keep disappearing through. “My wife is back there. I came to get some air, but I can’t get back through. Her name is Elizabeth Lewis.”

She doesn’t look up. “Of course.”

I hear the door buzz next to me and I slip back into the treatment area. It’s a bit busier back here than it was half an hour ago. There are people whizzing all over the place. Room to room. Patient to patient. The place is like a midmorning rush hour, and I’m wandering through the middle of it like a lost sheep trying to find Libby’s room.

When I eventually stumble across the right corridor, I step up to the glass window on the door and see Dale with his hand on Libby’s leg. She’s still unconscious by the look of things, and he has his head bowed and away from her.

“Excuse me.” I manage to collar a nurse who happens to be walking past. “The doctor was going to speak to me about my wife’s results. Is he available?”

“We are a bit pushed right now, but I’ll let him know you want to speak to him. You can wait in the room with your wife.” She nods briskly and hurries off down the corridor, and I decide to bite the bullet and step into Libby’s room.

Dale’s head swivels to the door and I sense the immediate tension in the air when he spots me. The atmosphere shifts around us and he fixes me with a venom filled glare.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he warns with a low and gravelly voice. “I don’t want to see your face.”

Pushing one hand in my pocket, I cock my head to the side with a smug grin. “The feeling’s mutual. I only wanted to say bye to Libby.”

I don’t let onto Dale about the miscarriage, although I’m pretty sure he probably already knows. It’s mine and Libby’s business to sort out, and not his.

“She’s only in here because of
you
.” Dale gets up from his chair and storms over to me. He lifts his hands as if he’s about to push me, but I grab hold of his fists and stop him in mid-air.

“Now that’s a bit silly, don’t you think?”

His expression grows darker, angrier. “I’m going to ruin you,” he threatens.

“Oh yeah?” I push him back and wait for him to charge again. “Like you ruined your sister?” He stops in his tracks, his eyes wide, which spurs me on further. “Yeah, I heard you yelling at her. Arguing over something, weren’t you? Then she got mugged and an elbow to the face, and you left her.” It’s a low blow on my part because he was only following Libby’s instruction, but I want him to feel the guilt.

Dale scrunches his eyebrows before narrowing his eyes. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“So, enlighten me then,” I bait.

He turns toward his sister, his face softening, before he looks back at me and the hatred returns. “We were arguing over you.”

“Me?” I can’t keep the surprise off my face.

“Yes,” Dale snaps, and I notice his hands clench into fists again. “We had a fucking plan. Everything was mapped out to perfection. Ivy got a job at your place and Libby sowed the seed with the investment opportunity. Between us, we had a plan to destroy you.”

I shrug. “So what changed?”

“She changed!” he roars, throwing his arm behind him.

“As soon as you came back on the scene, I noticed something different about my sister. I kept trying to remind her of the past. Trying to bring back the old memories to make her remember, but it didn’t work. She was falling again, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. She begged me to give up on the plan, but
I
didn’t want to.”

His face morphs while he talks and I find myself intrigued by the true extent of his twisted ugliness that is revealing itself.

“You are a selfish fuck, and you don’t give a shit about anybody. I swore the moment Libby walked out on you that I would make you pay for every single day she was unhappy. And that I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d taken everything away from you. But of course, she had to go and throw a spanner in the works—”

“D-Dale ...” Libby’s low and sleepy rasp echoes around the small room and catches us both off guard. Simultaneously, we turn to the sound of her voice. “S-Stop!” she pleads, her voice cracking with raw emotion. “P-Please stop this!” She tries to sit up, but struggles, letting out a pained cry.

“My God, Libby!” Dale shoots across the room and puts his hand on her leg. “Lie down until we get the doctor. You’ve probably got a concussion. What the hell were you playing at?”

I don’t move near her. My legs are glued to the floor by the door and I don’t have any intention of moving. She’s awake which gives me some reassurance. But as I stare at her now, weak and frail, lying in this hospital bed, I can’t stop the bubbling resentment in the pit of my stomach.

Seven years ... Seven long years I’ve been waiting for answers. And now that I’ve uncovered them, I wish I hadn’t. She has lied to me for all this time, with something so big, I don’t know how I can look past it.

“Are you gonna leave or what?” Dale challenges when he catches me just standing there. “She doesn’t need you, Alex, and it’s time you realised that.”

My jaw tenses.

“Dale, stop, please,” Libby begs. “He was the one who called the ambulance for me. If Alex hadn’t been there—”

“I’m fucking sick of this.” Dale snatches his hand away from Libby and glares between us. “So what, just because he’s rich, now you want him back in your life? I knew you were shallow, but I thought you had some decency, Libby,” he spits. “What about all the nights when he didn’t come home? And all the weekends he spent away? Then the phone calls and text messages he didn’t bother returning? Remember what he was like. You hated him.”