Three Wishes (33 page)

Lily leaned more of her weight on her hand on the woman’s desk. Soon, she knew, she might not be able to hold herself upright.

The receptionist was on hold and she put her hand over the mouthpiece and said to Lily, “Why don’t you sit down? Jennifer’s ringing him now, I’ll…” She stopped talking and Lily concentrated closely on her face. If she didn’t she just might throw up. The flashing lights in her eyes were now zooming and the pain in her head was magnifying alarmingly.

The woman’s eyes widened and her lips parted at whatever she heard on the phone.

Lily didn’t care. She wasn’t going to make it. She needed to find somewhere to lay down immediately. Somewhere quiet, cool and very, very dark.

“Mr. McAllister is coming down himself,” the receptionist breathed as if the Lord Almighty had rung to invite her to a picnic. She was staring at Lily with new interest but she didn’t like what she saw. “You’re
not
okay,” she accused but it was soft, thoughtful accusation and she surged from her chair and made her way around the desk.

Lily moved to face the desk fully and she put both her hands on it to hold herself up. She dropped her head and started to take deep breaths. She felt the woman’s hand on her back and tried not to flinch at the touch. Touch was not good.

“Is there something I can do?” she queried. “Do you need a glass of water? Let’s get you seated.”

Lily nodded, a seat would be good. Standing was bad, very, very bad.

She was beyond speech, beyond much of anything, the pain was at her left temple, unexplainable, indescribable, twisting pain.

“Lily.” She heard the deep rumble of Nate’s voice saying her name but she didn’t turn.

“Mr. McAllister, I think something’s wrong with her,” the receptionist murmured.

Nate was at her side in less than a second. She felt him rather than saw him, her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Jesus, Lily,” he muttered, his heavy, warm hand replacing his receptionist’s at her back and his other hand went to her waist where he gently turned her to face him.

In doing so, she had to give a great deal of her weight to him as she took her hands from the desk. His body tensed at the unexpected burden and her hands moved to the sides of his waist to hang on for dear life.

He pulled her to him with one hand, bracing her weight against his body while his other hand went below her chin and tilted her face to his.

Unseeing and unfocussed, she looked in the vague direction of his face.

“Nate, I think I need to lie down,” she whispered.

He moved suddenly then and she cried out. Sudden movement was not good.
Any
movement was not good.

But then she was freed of supporting herself at all because she was lifted in his arms. She rested an arm around his shoulders, a hand on his chest and her head in the bend of his neck.

This was a far better place to be than standing.

“Call Jennifer,” he barked, walking away. The walking away part wasn’t so good. It was movement and she made a noise of protest in the back of her throat. At the sound of it, his strides lengthened. “Tell her I want my physician at my flat immediately. And I want her to phone Mrs. Roberts, tell my mother Lily’s here and she’s ill.”

They were going somewhere, she didn’t know where but she hoped they got there soon or she’d vomit all over Nate’s lovely suit.

“Lily, do you know what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Headache,” was all she could manage to say and this she said very quietly in hopes he’d catch the hint and stop talking so loudly. Or, better yet, at all.

“This isn’t just a fucking headache,” he responded tersely, his voice rough with concern.

She didn’t reply. He was right for one and for another, she was loathe to open her mouth.

They’d arrived somewhere and he set her on her feet but didn’t make her take her own weight as he held her against his body then shifted her and she was finally, blissfully sitting.

In a car.

In terror, she surged up and out of the car, slamming straight into him.

“No!” she cried and the pain shot though her head like a bullet. She winced, not knowing her already pale face became ashen.

“Lily, for God’s sake, what’s wrong?” She looked up at him, tried to focus through the excruciating pain and Nate looked at her face. “Christ!”

The word was an explosion. She winced at the noise of his voice.

“Migraine, Nate, I can’t ride in a car. The motion will make me sick. I can’t bear it. Can’t endure the movement. I need to lie down, now,” she explained and the effort of words completely exhausted her.

“You have to get in the car, darling, we’re in a car park. We’ll be home soon,” he assured her, his voice now back to gentle.

“The car park is fine.” And at that moment, lost in the pain, it was true. She would have lain anywhere, just as long as it was down, it was quiet and she no longer had to move. “I’ll just lie down by the car.”

He didn’t listen, he pushed her in the car, carefully but forcefully, and before she could surge out again, he buckled her in. He wasted no time getting in the driver’s seat and setting them in motion.

Nate, just as in memory, drove hard and fast, this time out of necessity. Lily leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands to keep it as still as possible.

And finally, Lily lost her control of the pain and she had no idea she was keening, emitting low, frightening, animal-like noises of sheer agony.

Nate

Nate carried Lily up to his penthouse, the entire time she kept her head pressed into his neck with such force he felt his pulse beat against her.

And she hadn’t stopped making that horrifying noise.

The elevator opened at the top floor, his floor as he owned the whole of it.

As if waiting for the sound of the elevator, the lone door in the small but opulent hall opened and Laura stood there. The minute she saw them, or more to the point heard Lily, the blood drained out of his mother’s face.

“Oh my God,” Laura breathed.

Without hesitation, Nate walked passed her, through the living room, down the hall and directly to his bedroom. Beside the bed, he put Lily on her feet but kept her weight braced against him.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked but Nate didn’t answer, he was looking at Lily and she was wincing.

“No light,” Lily whispered.

Immediately Nate ordered his mother, “Shut the drapes.”

“Pardon?” Laura asked.

“The drapes!” he clipped, his voice impatient and curt.

Laura ran to the windows as Nate’s hand went to the zipper at the back of Lily’s dress and tugged it down gently.

“What can we do?” he asked Lily softly.

“No light,” she repeated as he finished with her zipper and carefully guided the skirt of her dress over her hips. She knew what he was doing and she lifted her arms in submission but he could tell the movement took great effort. “No noise. Noise, very bad. Cool, wet flannel,” she finished.

The room went dark as Laura closed the drapes on the floor to ceiling windows that lined one side of the room. She then rushed to them while Nate pulled the dress free of Lily’s arms, all the while bearing her weight against the length of his body.

“I’ll get something for her to wear,” Laura offered, taking the dress from his hand and throwing it across the bottom of the bed.

“No clothes. Can’t bear it,” Lily muttered and Nate’s hand moved to the clasp of her bra and deftly undid it while Laura gave up on her offered errand and leaned forward and pulled back the covers to the bed.

Nate slipped the bra off her shoulders. “Get a cool flannel,” he ordered his mother and Laura ran to the bathroom.

He set Lily in bed and went to work on her shoes, which, he decided with annoyance, regardless of how sexy they were, could be used by banks to keep money safe, their straps were so complicated. Once he had both off and dropped them to the floor, he pulled the covers over her.

“Do you have any medication?” he asked.

She shook her head and flinched then pressed it to the pillows as she’d pressed it to his neck while he carried her up to the penthouse.

“Nothing works,” she answered.

“The doctor’s coming,” Nate told her as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her hair gently away from her neck.

“Won’t help,” she mumbled.

He felt a frustrated fury surge through him. He realised vaguely that it had been under the surface since seeing her leaning helplessly against his receptionist’s desk but it had, finally, managed to get loose.

He controlled it, but barely.

“Lily, tell me what I can do,” he urged.

“You’re doing it,” she whispered, pressing her head deeper into the pillows.

Laura came back to the room and handed Nate the flannel. He folded it and pressed it against Lily’s forehead and she made a noise, this time not of pain.

“Yes,” she breathed in such a rush of relief, it was as if he’d given her the elixir of life. She lifted her hand and pressed the flannel into her forehead with such force he could see the colour of the flesh of her long, graceful fingers changing from pink to a harsh blush mingled with white.

The doorbell rang and Laura murmured, “I’ll get it.”

Lily whispered after Laura had scurried from the room, “Call Fazire, please.”

“Of course,” Nate assured her quietly.

“Tell him not to come.”

Nate didn’t respond.

“He’ll want to come but tell him you’ll take care of me.” Her eyes fluttered open and slid to him but her head didn’t move. “Tell him
I
said that.”

Nate should have reacted to the importance her words,
wanted
to, but at that moment he couldn’t. He heard his personal physician, Dr. Sims coming into the room with Laura.

Lily closed her eyes and Nate rose from the bed to allow the doctor access.

“What’s happened?” Dr. Sims asked.

“She says it’s a migraine,” Nate replied, his words clipped.

“Does she have them often?” the physician went on.

Nate couldn’t respond because he didn’t know. And this caused the control he had on his fury to slip a notch. If they’d had the last eight years together, he
would
have known.

“Yes.” It was Lily who answered.

“How often?” Dr. Sims asked her gently, taking her pulse.

“Not often.”

“Do you know your triggers?” he enquired, his voice soft and low.

“Stress,” she answered and Nate’s fury mingled immediately with a surge of guilt which caused it to slip another notch, “sometimes my period.”

“Are you on your cycle now?” Dr. Sims asked.

“It’s coming. The pain only comes just before,” she replied.

“Let’s get you sorted.” The doctor glanced at Nate then to Laura. His meaning clear, they were to leave.

“I’m not going,” Nate stated firmly.

Dr. Sims moved away and motioned Nate to follow, this he did but halted before they even came close to the door.

“Migraine sufferers need quiet, darkness, rest. I’ll give her something to help her sleep. We’ll talk outside but now she needs to be left alone and we need to get her to sleep. It’s the best thing, sometimes the only thing for it.”

Nate stared at Lily still pressing the flannel to her head and then glanced at the doctor.

Wishing only to speed the process of her recovery, he nodded and walked out of the room. Laura had already gone.

In the living room Laura was gathering her things, she heard rather than saw Nate come into the vast room.

“I’ll go to the shops, get her a nightgown, a change of clothes…” Laura needed something to do and she had nothing therefore she was creating busy work.

Nate stopped her hasty exit. “I need you to call Fazire. Tell him she’s here and she’s not well. Tell him that I’m taking care of her. Please tell him Lily said that.”

At the words “I need you”, Laura’s head jerked around. At the word “please” her face melted and her eyes began to shimmer with tears.

Nate had never said the former to her in his life. And the latter he rarely said to anyone.

She immediately dropped her bag and rushed toward the kitchen saying, “I’ll do that now.” Then she stopped and swung around. “What’s the number?”

He smiled at his mother, feelings of immense gratitude at her being there when he needed her, when Lily needed her, warring with his anger. Nate told her the number he’d only used once but, as per usual, he’d memorised.

She muttered it over and over to herself as she ran to the kitchen.

Nate stopped himself from getting a drink which he very much needed. He couldn’t get Lily’s appalling whimpering out of his head and he couldn’t lose his fury at his feeling of powerlessness. That was not a feeling he was used to and he very much did not like it.