Page 60 of Still Here Without You

Rhys. He has a name.Fuck, that hurts.My stomach swirls as my heart rips in two, even though I’m the one who caused us the most damage. “Okay?” I ask, because I don’t know what else to say.

“I’ve mentioned Rhys before. I work with him. Nothing more. The other girl in the picture is Leah, his girlfriend of five years.”

“Fuck!” I groan, covering my mouth so I don’t physically throw up. I’m such an asshole. “I’m so sorry, Del.”

“So you keep saying. But like I said…it’s okay. I’ve got to go, though. I’m supposed to be meeting my new boss in an hour.” Her tone morphs from hurt to one of indifference.Fuck, that hurts even more.

Taking a deep breath, I try to sound more upbeat than I feel. “Congratulations, Del. I really mean that. I’m so proud of you. I love you.”

“Thanks. Bye, Joel.”

She hangs up, and I groan as loud as I can. I don’t even know what to think about that conversation.Is she okay? Are we okay? Fuck! Why does she have to be so far away?

Chapter Twenty-One

Delilah

Assoonasthecall disconnects, I flop back onto the bed and burst into tears. How I managed to remain calm on the phone is anyone's guess. With everything going on, I did not need that conversation. A pain shoots through my abdomen, and I curl into a ball…again. This has become a regular occurrence but one I have no time to focus on. I’m sure it’s stress related. Maybe Joel’s right…I should have turned the intern extension down outright. But I just couldn’t say no, not with knowing how valuable it is for my future. I wanted to talk to Joel first. I thought I’d made it clear. But I was so drunk.Ugh! Did I tell him I was staying? No, he said Rachel told him I was staying. Why wouldshesay that? I know she’s not happy about the idea but…My stomach churns and I cry out again when the pain of everything becomes too much. I’m not sure which pain is worse right now, the physical or emotional.

Pulling the blankets up over my head, I try to ignore everything that’s going on and sleep. I lied about meeting my new boss, but I needed to get off the phone. Joel may not have cheated on me, but fuck that hurt. I have no reason, no right, to be upset. Everything I said was true. We aren’t together. We’ve never been together. He didn’t cheat on me. And yet, that’s exactly what it feels like. My insides twist again, and it’s agony. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I close my eyes and once again wait for sleep to come.Why did I think I could do this?

The next few weeks pass by in a fog. I go out a lot more than I used to, preferring to spend my nights dancing with friends than alone with my thoughts. Joel called twice a day for the first few days, and when he finally took the hint that I wasn’t going to answer, he changed to text messaging. Those, I at least replied to. I told him it was fine, that it didn’t matter. I wanted it to appear that way. Maybe if I say it enough, it will come true.

The fashion show comes and goes in a mess of tape, safety pins, and cursing. I wish I could say it is everything I dreamed it would be, but I’d be lying if I did. Helen stayed until a few days before the event but had to leave to get ready for the London show. With her there, we had been invited to attend, with all the glamour. You could say she treated us like the integral members of the team that we are. But as soon as she left, all that changed. During the show, interns were relegated backstage to assist the managers. And I don’t mean the exciting dressing rooms. I mean, we had to linger in the hallways of the venue in case one of the designers needed something the venue didn’t provide. More often than not, that something was decent food or coffee.

When the week of the show finally comes to an end, I crash. I crash so hard that I sleep for sixteen hours without stirring. I’ve never done that in my life. I should realize then and there that something is wrong, but with everything going on, I continue finding excuses to write away the signs. I shouldn’t. Because three weeks later, I wind up in a hospital in Paris with no one around to comfort me. And the first person I want by my side is Joel. I don’t care what has happened between us, or what hasn’t. When faced with the unknown, he is the only person I need. Only this time, he doesn’t answer my call.

When I wake up the morning after being admitted to the hospital, Mom’s asleep in the chair next to me. My brain hurts as I try to calculate if her being here is physically possible. I’d called her as soon as I’d hung up from trying Joel so I guess it must be. I stare at her in silence. Her hand is resting next to mine, as though she’d been holding it but let go in sleep. A pain shoots through me, and the events of the past twenty-four hours come to mind in a series of flashes—doubling over in pain, the bleeding, Rhys rushing me to the hospital. The phone calls. After that, it’s all a blur. The tests. The surgery. I don’t remember much.

My mom moves in her sleep, pulling her hand away and tucking it under her head. Her concern is etched in her features.

Closing my eyes again, I sigh. She’s not the only one freaked-out. But I’m glad she’s here. For both of us. There's only three people in the world I need right now—Mom, Dad, and Joel, even though that last one would hurt. I'm grateful to have one of them by my side.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when I feel my hand being stroked lovingly, and as I open my eyes, my mom releases a breath and smiles.

“Oh, Delilah, you had me so worried,” she whispers, moving her hand to my face.

Turning my head into her palm, I welcome the comfort. “I scaredmyselftoo. How did you get here so fast?”

Mom laughs. “I packed while your father booked me on the first flight out. I arrived a little after five.”

I nod with a small smile. “I'm glad you’re here.”

“Me too, sweetie. Me too.”

There’s a knock on the door a few hours later and a doctor walks in. “Delilah, I’m Doctor Laurent,” he says in his strong French accent. “You may not remember me, but I performed your emergency surgery yesterday.”

I nod. His face is familiar, but that’s all I know.

“I need to talk to you about your results. Do you mind if we have a moment?” he says, looking between me and Mom.

Reaching over to clasp Mom’s hand, I pull her closer. “I’m happy for her to stay. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” He nods, flipping open my chart.

“The biopsy came back negative for cancerous cells.” He pauses, and I sigh in relief. Mom sucks in a breath beside me as tears fill her eyes.

“We did, however, notice an abnormality with some of the tests, and…”

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