Fake Empire: Chapter 21

Less than twenty-four hours after leaving and days before I was supposed to return, I end up back in New York. I’m sleep-deprived and stressed, to the point the watercolor print I’m staring at has turned into a meaningless blur of pastel. I wonder who decorates hospital waiting rooms. Who gets to choose the framed artwork you’ll stare at and the color of the chairs you’ll sit in during the worst hours of your life?

The trip back to New York was a blur. I watched it unfold like a movie, not as a participant. And I was able to because Crew handled everything. Our luggage, his family, chartering the flight back, the car waiting at the airport to bring us to New York General in record time. I found out my father was in surgery while I was thousands of miles away. Now I’m in the same building, and he’s still cut open on an operating table.

I’m exhausted, but this plastic chair is too uncomfortable to fall asleep in. My mother is sitting next to me, pale and silent. The only reaction I’ve gotten out of her since I arrived was when she saw Crew came back with me. She was surprised. My parents’ marriage doesn’t show up during the best of times. Seeing mine do so in the worst of them was clearly a shock.

It didn’t even occur to me to fight Crew on coming back with me, but her stunned expression made me think I should have. Made me realize how much I rely upon him now. If he hadn’t been next to me when my mother called, he would have been the first person I told about my father’s heart attack.

My relationship with my father is complicated. It always has been. He wanted a son, not a daughter. A dutiful child, not the rebel I turned into. I love him, but it’s mostly an obligatory sort of affection. I resent him for how he treats my mother—how he treats me. For being embarrassed by my ambition instead of encouraging it. If I’d refused to marry a Kensington, I’m not sure we’d still have any sort of relationship.

He might die. I’m no doctor, but the fact the surgery is taking so long doesn’t seem like a good sign. And if he dies, he’ll never meet my child. My motivations for not telling my parents about the pregnancy are mostly petty. I wanted my father to see this baby as a grandchild, not an heir. He would have been thrilled to hear his bloodline is continuing. Now he may never know.

My mother keeps checking her watch. It’s annoying, the small motion that catches my attention every time she does it. But I don’t ask her to stop; I don’t have a better way to distract her. The only way I can think of is blurting news that shouldn’t be delivered in a somber, impersonal waiting room while she’s waiting to learn if she’s a widow.

I wish Crew was still here. He went to take Teddy and our luggage back to the penthouse.

A man wearing a set of scrubs appears in the open doorway and heads our way. We both stand in tandem as he approaches. “Mrs. Ellsworth?”

“Yes,” my mother replies. Her voice is tight and tense, pulled taut.

The surgeon looks to me. “Are you a relative?”

“I’m his daughter.”

He nods. “Well, I’m pleased to report Hanson pulled through the surgery. He’s got a long road of recovery ahead, but there’s no reason to think he won’t make a complete one. He’s lucky the ambulance arrived so quickly and we were able to get him in the OR immediately. He’s being transferred to recovery right now. I’ll have a nurse let you know when you can see him. All right?”

My mother’s sigh of relief is audible. “Thank you so much, doctor.”

The man smiles before he leaves. My mother sinks back down into her seat. She was cagey on the phone—and when I arrived—on details about what exactly happened. The surgeon’s comments—about details my mother didn’t already know—clarifies things some. She wasn’t there when he had the heart attack.

“He was with another woman, wasn’t he? She’s the one who made sure the ambulance arrived so quickly?”

My mother holds my gaze. Doesn’t look away or fiddle with anything or make excuses. “Yes.”

I sigh. Shake my head. “Why do you stay with him, Mom? Why do you put up with it?”

“It’s how things are, Scarlett. You know that.”

“But it’s not how they have to be. Dad isn’t worth it. Let him go.”

“And do what?”

Get a life sounds too harsh. “I don’t know… Be happy?” I hear a younger Scarlett in the suggestion. One less jaded. One who believed in happy endings.

She laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. This life is what makes me happy. Being

Josephine Ellsworth is who I want to be. Your father is far from perfect, but he’s a good man. I knew exactly what we’d be when I met him for the first time. Everything that we would never be. I made my peace with it before we got married.”

“What do you mean?”

“We wanted the same things. He needed a wife. I wanted a husband. Our fathers agreed, and that was that.”

“I’m aware how an arranged marriage works,” I say, tone dry. She used to tell me their marriage hadn’t been arranged, that they were in love, and it was just another lie. Part of the perfect family façade to try on when it suited. I pretend I don’t care. “I’m in one, remember?”

My mother smiles. It’s the same one she always gives me when she thinks I’m being ridiculous. “No, you’re not.”

I give her a look thick with disbelief. “You planned the wedding.”

“Yes, I did. I saw it then and I see it now. That boy is in love with you, Scarlett.”

I’m so shocked by her words, I can barely blink. I know Crew cares. Things between us have evolved into a friendship and a comfort I never imagined our marriage might contain. But love? My mother is in shock. Her husband had a heart attack and was found with his mistress. But still… “You’re delusional.”

“No, honey. That’s you.” My mother has perfected the art of spewing condescension in a sweet tone. It layers every syllable. “Why do you think he came all this way?”

I swallow, and admit, “I’m pregnant.”

My mother’s face lights up. “Really?”

I nod. “It’s…confused things between us. I’m hormonal, and it’s just… He’s a good guy.”

It’s not the full truth. Lines blurred between me and Crew long before two of them appeared on the pregnancy test. But it’s the story I’m sticking with when it comes to my mother. I wish we had the sort of relationship where I could confess everything that’s happened between us. The way Crew makes me feel.

But we don’t, and it’s never bothered me more than it does right now. I’ve always prided my independence. I’m not the spoiled rich girl who has her every whim catered to. My default appearance is poised and prepared. But right now, I want to fall apart.

Crew walks into the waiting room, and my heart does a silly little skip.

“Any news?” he asks, taking the seat beside me.

“He’s out of surgery. Should make a full recovery.” I share the update like it’s a weather report. But I don’t feel obligated to play the loving daughter in front of Crew. I know he won’t judge me.

“Good.”

My mother leans forward. “Congratulations, Crew. Scarlett shared the happy news about the baby.”

He doesn’t look surprised I told my mother. “Thank you. We’re excited.” His hand squeezes my thigh.

My mother gives me a pointed look. I ignore it; she’s in no position to be doling out relationship advice.

“You should go get some sleep, sweetie,” she tells me. “You look exhausted.”

“I haven’t slept in…” I try to count the hours. “A while.”

“Go. Your father will be out of it for a while. I’ll send you any updates.”

“Okay.” It doesn’t take much for me to agree. Sitting on hard plastic while my mother justifies her money-motivated decision to stay with my father hasn’t been a blast.

Silently, Crew stands and offers me his hand.

I take it. “Bye, Mom.”

It feels wrong, leaving her sitting there all alone. I can’t picture my father holding a vigil if the roles were reversed. Never before have I tried to analyze my parents’ relationship this closely. I just took it at face value. I know why I’m peering closer now—I have something to compare it to. I want everything they’re not.

Crew says nothing as we leave the hospital and climb into the waiting car. It’s dark out. I don’t know what time it is. What day it is, even.

I stare out the window, seeing nothing. Even once we pull into the garage, my eyes don’t focus. My limbs don’t move.

The door on my side of the car opens. Crew leans in, unbuckling my seat belt and lifting me into his arms.

I press my face against his warm neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “You smell good.”

“I showered.”

His steps are sure and solid as he walks over to the elevators. I don’t open my eyes.

“He was with his mistress when it happened. Not my mom. She doesn’t care. She says she never cared. I hope that’s true, or else I’m screwed.” I squeeze my eyes tighter. “I can’t even remember the last time I was this tired,” I mumble. “And I’m always tired.” Crew somehow manages to hold me and also flash the card to get the elevator moving. “You’re so strong.” I sigh. “I feel like everything is falling apart. Like I am.”

His grip on me tightens. “Nothing is falling apart, Red. Everything is fine. Your dad will be fine.”

“I know. I’m relieved. You know why? Because my first thought when I heard he had a heart attack was that if he died, I would have had to take over Ellsworth Enterprises. Or sell it. Or…I don’t even know what I would have done. How sad is that?”

“It’s understandable. Your relationship with him is complicated.”

“All of my relationships are complicated.”

The doors open with a ding. I open my eyes to the familiar sight of the entryway to the penthouse I’ve started thinking of as ours, not mine. Crew doesn’t set me down and I don’t ask him to. He just strides for the stairs.

“Have you talked to your dad?” I ask.

Crew shakes his head. “I’m sure he’ll call about something work-related soon. Until then, I’m not getting involved in the Candace drama.”

I blink. “Wow. I completely forgot about that.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.”

“You should talk to them, Crew.”

I used to think that Arthur and Oliver were closer than Arthur and Crew. That Oliver resented Crew for usurping and outshining him. But I realized Crew is the glue holding his family together on the flight to the Alps. Arthur and Oliver both rely on him to handle whatever needs handling. I don’t like that I’ve become another burden Crew has to carry—literally, at the moment. I lean on him, need him, rely on him, and he’s never needed my support the same way.

“You should sleep.” He lays me down on the soft fabric of my comforter. “Staying up all night can’t be good for the baby.” I can’t distinguish his concern for me from his concern for the baby. He carried me to bed once before I was pregnant. Would he have carried me tonight if I wasn’t?

“I tried to sleep on the plane,” I mutter.

“I know, baby.” The soft tone of his voice temporarily soothes my worries.

“My dad is fine. You can go back to the chalet. Spend Christmas with your dad and brother. Your family.”

He says nothing for a long minute. I don’t want him to go, and I’m worried he took it the wrong way—that I do. I wish it were brighter in here. The hall light doesn’t illuminate his whole face; most of it is shadowed. I can’t see his expression, but I can feel something pulsing in the air between us. Before I can decide what it is, he speaks. “My family is right here.”

Five words, and they decide more between us than the two-hundred-page document that was supposed to govern this arrangement. If our story had a different start, I’d respond to that sentence with three. I’d admit he’s become my whole world. The first thing I think about when I wake up and the last before I fall asleep. The first person I’d call with good news or bad. My family.

Pretty promises can be deceptive. All I hear in Crew’s words are truth. Not ugly, but real.

Before my tired brain can come up with a response, he stands and moves away. “Get some sleep, Red.”

The bedroom door closes, and I’m alone in the dark. I realize maybe you don’t have to have already experienced something to know you’re experiencing it for the first time. My emotional experience with men is laughably limited, as in nonexistent. I was so busy teaching myself not to get hurt, I never let anyone close.

Crew Kensington doesn’t just have the ability to hurt me.

He holds the power to destroy me, if he ever decides to use it.