“Not if she loses the baby and goes back to school,” Eric mutters under his breath.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You really think they’d sink that low?” Will grips the edge of the blanket, slightly pulling it down from around my shoulders.
“Ivy was writhing in pain in a puddle of her own blood and Lauren walked away, leaving her there. That right there tells me she’s capable of anything.” Eric’s hand is back on my forehead as I feel his warm breath on my face.
“So are you going to go ahead with your plan to take Ivy back to Pennsylvania when she’s able to travel?” Will questions somewhat nervously.
“Yeah, there’s no way I’m leaving her in L.A. She needs the safety and security of those she loves around her. I’m not letting her out of my sight again.” Eric leans down and gently kisses my closed eyelids.
“There’s just one little problem,” Will interjects, getting up and wheeling what sounds like a suitcase out of the corner of the room. “Dave had Warren kick me out of their poolhouse. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“And why should I care?” Eric asks, annoyed.
“Because I hold the rights to this little screenplay, and without me, Lauren doesn’t get to ruin your former flame.” Will huffs, hitting Eric where it counts.
“What do you mean former?” Eric seethes.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. This is the part we didn’t get a chance to discuss yet.” Will scoots his chair closer to the bed as I feel him lean over my body.
I wish I could kick him to shut up. He can’t tell Eric about Cassidy. He’ll freak. He needs to hear it from me. Someone who will break it to him gently and not rub it in his face. This is going to send Eric over the edge—if he’s not already there. Damn it, Will. Why do you always have to be such a prick?
“I’m all ears,” Eric says mockingly, stretching his arms above his head. “Tell me why I should support your sorry ass while you work on this with Ivy? Because truthfully, I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
“You’re offering me a place to stay?” Will asks, taken aback.
“I might if you can pick up the slack and let Ivy rest,” Eric muses aloud. “If you need Ivy to come up with the ideas, fine. But she’s not going to be spending hours hunched over a computer or communicating with Lauren in any way. You’re going to handle the majority of the workload, serving as the go-between when it comes to the two of them.”
“And you want me to stay in your house with you and Ivy?” Will asks, pushing his luck.
“I don’t think so,” Eric says smugly. “I’ll set you up with a cot and a kerosene heater in the woodshed out back. If you need to shower, you can use the facilities at the garden center.”
“Are you serious?” Will asks, his excitement over Eric’s offer clearly ebbing.
“There’s nothing wrong with roughing it, Will, especially when you don’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, when you’re not working on the screenplay, I could use an extra hand around the garden center. The Christmas tree season can get pretty hectic. You look like a guy who likes to work with his hands.” Eric must be enjoying this because he starts to chuckle.
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you, Young? Well, let me tell you something. This screenplay isn’t going to be about Cassidy’s heroic battle against cancer or your gag-inducing love story.” Will is working himself up into full rant mode.
I have to stop him. Drawing on what little energy I can muster, I open my parched lips and try to moan, even though it comes out more like a croak.
The distraction works because Eric’s attention immediately shifts to me. “Ivy, are you okay? Are you trying to say something? Do you need me to get the nurse?”
He bombards me with questions, but I don’t have the strength to answer them. Damn these sedatives. That last surge of adrenaline left me with nothing. I feel myself slipping away again. Oh no, please no. I have to make sure Will doesn’t say anything about Cassidy. I can’t fall asleep—not now.
The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is Will muttering something about perfect timing and then I black out.
Chapter Eleven
Eric
Today’s the day Ivy gets to leave the hospital.
I smile with relief as the doctor signs off on her release, leaving us alone in the room. Will brought her suitcase over from the hotel, so I rummage through it, trying to find something warm enough for her to wear. My dad said the temperature is in the forties back home. I don’t want her to be shivering when she gets off the plane.
“What are you doing?” she asks, eyeing me from across the room.
Even after repeated assurances that she is well enough to travel, she still looks frail to me with her hospital gown hanging loosely over one shoulder. She’s lost weight at a time when she should be gaining it. Her hair is pulled back in a lopsided ponytail, thanks to my handiwork, and her freshly scrubbed face looks pale and tired. She’s lost that healthy glow that’s surrounded her since she learned that she was pregnant. Now she seems worn out and scared. I hate how Lauren took that away from her. She transformed the joy Ivy felt for the child growing inside of her and twisted it into something to worry about and fear.
“Making sure you fly home in style,” I joke, holding up a pink hoodie and her favorite pair of jeans. “How about these?”
“Frumpy, wrinkled, and disheveled—just the look I’m striving for,” she groans, her voice still a bit raspy and hoarse.
“I think warm and comfortable is more like it.” I place them on the side of the bed and help her sit up.
The straps of the hospital gown are undone in the back, exposing the ridges of her spine. I hold my breath, trying not to notice how thin she is. After three days of a strictly intravenous diet, she can definitely use some meat on her bones. I’ve never seen her this skinny, and I don’t like it. I wish the doctor would allow her some extra time in the hospital in order to regain her strength, but there’s nothing more she can do. The vitals for Ivy and the baby have returned to normal. Apparently there’s no reason to keep them here, even if I disagree.
I debated whether or not to extend Ivy’s stay at the hotel until she was back on her feet. A cross-country flight isn’t exactly the best thing for her right now, but she insisted that she wanted to go home. She promised to sleep on the plane and allow me to get a wheelchair for her at the airport. She’d rather recuperate in our bed with Shep at her side, not tossing and turning in some strange hotel room when she’d feel more comfortable at home.
But I have a sneaking suspicion she’s been listening to the conversations I’ve been having with my dad, pretending to be asleep. She knows how hard it is to run a business on the other side of the country and that I need to get back to the garden center. Things are piling up that require my attention. Checks need to be signed. Bills need to be paid. Deliveries need to be sorted. Stuff I can’t do via email or over the phone.
But I couldn’t care less about any of it. She’s my main concern. Her health and that of our baby are my top priorities. Nothing comes before them—nothing. Everything else can wait.
I slide the hospital gown off of her shoulders and she trembles.
“Are you cold?” I ask, worried. “Quick, put this on.” I slip her arms into the sleeves of the hoodie before moving around the bed to zip it up. I try not to look at her erect nipples as my fingers move up the track from her waist to her chin. It seems like forever since I’ve seen her naked, and I try to ignore the fact that having my hands so close to her bare skin has me straining against my jeans.