A/N: Hello, my beautiful readers. I am so deeply sorry for such a long absence, but I am so glad to finally be able to give you all this new chapter. Enjoy! If you'd like, I've included a little explanation at the end of this chapter. Much love.
NPOV
"How are we ever going to get through this?" I repeat, chocking back tears and curling my hands into fists, resting them over my stomach. Something is building up inside, a heated anger boiling deep in my stomach. Anger at myself for getting into this situation. Anger at myself for being so careless. It boils up from my stomach – "Oh!" I gasp, flying my hands from my stomach to clamp over my mouth. It wasn't just anger boiling up. Turns out, it was also vomit. Well, mostly vomit.
I'm on my knees, turning the contents of my stomach inside out and burning my throat, until there's nothing left. Suddenly, the wheat field that I kneel in doesn't seem so peaceful. It's spinning, fading in and out of focus. My arms drop to the ground; my hands grab fistfuls of wheat just to grasp on to something. Anything. I'm thinking that if I anchor myself, by some miracle, I'll manage to stay conscious.
After the last wave of nausea passes, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Before I can think to stop myself, I say sullenly, "That was not very nice, little bean." I'm surprised at my words as soon I say them. Never in a million years would I have imagined these words to come out of my mouth, but they just seem so… right. I pick myself up from the ground and dust off my knees. Raising my eyebrows, I look down and point at my flat stomach. I say softly, "I hope this isn't an everyday thing."
"Someday soon, Nora, your baby will recognize your voice." I spin around at this voice and see Dr. Greene standing a few yards away from me, her white lab coat fluttering in the wind. I don't know how to answer this statement of hers. I'm trying not to think of it, it's too big of a thought to process right now. My brain will explode if I think about that.
So, I start with the necessary. The facts. I can deal with the facts. I ask shakily, "Uhm. Uh, B-Basso? Where… where is he? Have you, uhm… told him anything?" I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
Dr. Greene takes a few steps forward and extends her hand out for mine. I place it in her hand and shuffle my feet numbly towards her. She tells me, "He saw you run out, and I was right behind you. I told him that you had just received some shocking news, that you just needed some air. It certainly isn't in my rights to tell him your personal information, but he needs to know. He needs to hear it, from you. Shall we go back in and tell hi-"
"No!" I interrupt, snatching my hand out of hers defensively. Her face shows her confusion, so I calm down and explain, "Please, I will, just… not right now. I can barely admit it to myself, I'm not ready to face this yet. Please, just give me time. Please. Respect this wish, just this one time. I will tell him… soon." I ramble on desperately until she puts her hands up in defeat.
With a sigh, Dr. Greene says, "Nora, of course I won't force you to tell anyone before you're ready. As a doctor, I have to support my patient's personal decisions. But as your friend, Nora, I encourage you to tell people so that you get the support that you need in this time." Her face is etched with concern, her aura swirls gray.
I give her a tight smile. "I will. I just need… time. Time."
She gives a small, hesitant nod and resigns, "As you wish, Nora. Lead the way."
I turn towards the clinic doors. She obviously doesn't understand my reasons to keep Basso in the dark, and honestly, neither do I. I just… can't.
As soon as I pull open the heavy wooden doors to the waiting room, Basso freezes mid-pace. The hand that was running through his hair drops to his side slowly. He watches me as Dr. Greene and I enter the room, my head hung to stare at my feet. He waits for me to speak the first words. I lift my eyes to his and open my mouth to speak, but the words get caught. I start to walk towards him, but I can't even manage that. I stumble over my own feet and fall into him. I grip his arms as a sob escapes my mouth. He supports my trembling frame and I mumble, "I… I want to go home now, Basso."
He smoothes down my hair and says, "Ok, Nora. Ok. We'll go." When I pull back, I catch him glancing worriedly at Dr. Greene over my head. He doesn't understand what's wrong; it needs to stay that way for now.
I turn to Dr. Greene and open my mouth to thank her. Before I can speak, she pulls me into a hug and whispers in my ear, "Nora, you can keep this a secret all you want, but you need to come back to begin prenatal care, and soon. I'll be in touch." I pull back without answering, my eyes stare blankly at her. She says out loud, "Goodbye, Nora." She nods a goodbye at Basso and walks back into her lab. Gone in an instant, leaving a heavy silence between Basso and I.
I can feel his worry without having to see his grey cloud surrounding him. I put my hand up before he can say anything, telling him quietly, "I'd like to drop it, please. Don't worry about me. It's nothing that concerns you. Nothing of concern at all! I'm fine." As I say it though, I'm lying through my teeth. I'm not fine. I just need to get home, before I have a mental breakdown in front of Basso.
He sighs heavily, a growl almost. He looks almost… angry. "Nora Grey. I know that you're a strong girl. You've taken more crap in one lifetime than anyone should. But this - whatever this is - you don't have to go through it alone. You don't have to shut everyone out. We all want to help you. I want to help you. But I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."
Well crap. If he's trying to make me feel bad, it's working. Still, I can't. Not yet. I know its ridiculous, and insane, and completely mental to think that I can do this alone, but I can't even wrap my head around it. So, I shake my head slowly and say, "I know, Basso. You don't deserve this from me. But you're wrong. I'm not strong, or independent, or any of these wonderful things that you think I am. In fact, I am utterly weak, and selfish, and cowardly. So please, don't try to convince me otherwise." I tremble as my tears spill down my cheeks. I see him beginning to attempt to tell me how wrong I am, but I can't hear it. "Just please, Basso… I'd like to get back to my car and drive myself home."
He runs his hands over his face and looks tormented. I turn and walk towards his SUV, not looking back to see if he followed. By the time I reach the car, its unlocked. Like a robot, I slide into the seat. He slides in. The car starts. We begin to move. I can deal with the facts – the colors I see, the sounds that I hear, the feel of the seat against my skin. They're easy, real. They shut out the rest of my thoughts. I wrap myself up in the silence of the car, shutting my eyes and pretending that I'm somewhere else, someone else.
I open my eyes when the car slows to a stop. We're pulled up next to my car, in the parking lot of the bakery. The bakery that we were at just a few hours ago, before my world came to a stop. I look to Basso for the first time and see the pure torment in his eyes, begging me to explain and calm his nerves. He whispers, "Will you be ok driving, Nora? Please, just let me drive you all the way home."
"I'll be fine. I promise." My words don't seem to convincing, even to me. I clutch his hand and lean towards him, giving this man, this father figure, a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Basso. I'll see you soon, ok? I'm sorry, for everything. I'm sorry." I get out of the car before he can stop me, slip into my car, and fumble the keys into the ignition. I pull out of the lot without looking back. All the way home, I keep my composure; I can't lose it yet. I want to shatter, I so desperately want to shatter, but I can't. It's as if my mind hasn't even processed it yet. How can I break over something that doesn't seem real? I pull the Jeep into the parking spot and sit with my hands clenched around the steering wheel. I sit and sit, terrified that when I do shatter, it will be the minute that I see Patch.
PPOV
I've been pacing all afternoon. Thoughts have been running through my mind all day, one worry blending into the next. Where is Nora? She was only supposed to run a few errands in town and then come right back. But she's fine, right? Of course she is, she's probably just taking her time picking out an outfit for tonight's date. I've already called ahead to the restaurant and made sure that everything is in place, every detail is perfect. But something might go wrong. What if she hates it? I'll probably say something stupid without thinking and then she'll be mad at me and then the whole night will be ruined. I shake my head roughly and tell myself, Get your shit together, Patch. You'll be fine. You're an angel, for crying out loud. A fallen one at that, but still. You can handle this.
Just as I say this to myself, I hear the front door open and close. She's home, finally! As I rush down the hallway to greet her, I call out, "Angel!" No response, but I hear her shuffle around the door, hanging her coat. I reach the foyer and see her bending over to take off her boots. Her hair dangles in front of her face, so I can't see her eyes. "Angel, I've missed you today. How was your day?" After what seems like an eternity, she looks up at me.
Her eyes only meet mine for a split second before she turns her head away again, her hair once again hiding her face. But in that second, but heart dropped. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were rimmed in red as if she was holding back tears. Before I can ask, she mumbles, "Oh, hey Patch. Sorry I took so long. Lost track of time."
She stands and avoids meeting my eye, edging past me down the hallway. I follow her, not letting her get away that easily. We both walk into our bedroom. When Nora turns around quickly on her heels, she bumps into my chest with a whispered, "Oh!" I don't say anything, but I put my hands on her shoulders while she turns down her head to stare at her feet.
When I can't take the silence any more, I say softly, "What's the matter, baby?"
With those words, her head snaps up to mine. Her eyes are wide, yet strangely absent. They seem glassy, as if she's in another world. I move my hands to touch her cheek, once again asking, "What's wrong, Angel?"
She leans her head into my hand and closes her eyes, sighing. She stays like that for a minute, saying, "Nothing's the matter, really. It's just… I…" She snaps open her eyes and tells me, "I forgot your suit at the dry cleaners. Yes! That's why I'm upset. Such a silly mistake. I was so busying, uh, running around that I forgot to pick it up." She looks down again, seemingly nervous of my reaction.
When I tip her chin up with my finger, there are tears pooling in her eye. Smiling, I kiss her nose and say, "Lucky for you, Angel, I have a spare suit for our date. Please don't worry about that. Besides, I would wear anything if it meant that I could spend an evening with you." She laughs through her tears, blinking them away and giving me a small smile.
She twists her hands together and confesses, "Patch, I, uh… didn't find a dress to wear. I was out all day but I just didn't… I just didn't find one. I'm sorry. I'm ruining everything."
At first, I'm about to tell her that it doesn't matter at all, she could wear a bed sheet and still be the most beautiful girl in the world. She could wear a sack and still be the only woman that I see. But, I know that she won't believe me. I scramble for an answer, for something that will calm her nerves and put her at ease. She looks curious as a smile spreads across my face. "Stay right here, Angel. Close your eyes. I'll be right back. Don't move." With a question in her eyes and a smile teasing her lips, she closes her eyes softly.
I rush into the walk-in closet, going to my side and searching through my neatly organized things. I don't know why I didn't think of this before! I pull the items out, gathering the material in my hand and walking back into the bedroom. She stands there, like a perfectly carved statue, with her eyes closed. So perfect. I can't resist; I silently walk up to her and kiss her neck, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from her. When I step back, I whisper, "You can open your eyes now, Angel."
She does, slowly. In my hands, I hold a gorgeous black dress and a strand of pearls. I place them in her arms. "I bought these things many months ago, quite soon after I met you, in fact. I've kept them with me ever since. You see, Nora, I am a very patient man. But beyond a shadow of a doubt, I knew that I loved you from the very moment I met you." She tightly clutches the fabric and pearls in her hands, craning her neck up to look into my eyes. Her eyebrows draw together, that cute little wrinkle forms above her nose. Her voice sounds strained as she says, "I love you too, Patch. Please, never forget that."
My hands frame her face, and I bring her forehead to my lips. I kiss her wrinkled brow, trying to smooth away her thoughts. I tell her, "Whatever you're worrying about Nora – and I know something is on your mind, because I know you – just leave it behind for tonight. Tonight, it's just the two of us. Just you and me."
Her eyes take on that strange glassy look again as she whispers back, "Of course. Just… you and me."
NPOV
"Just… you and me," I manage to choke out, the words weighing heavily on my mind and leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Oh, how far from the truth these words are.
I look down at the material in my hands, the black chiffon and beautiful pearls that he has given me. Once again, the weight of the world seems to press down on my shoulders. I don't deserve this man standing in front of me. I can still feel the acid in my mouth at my lie about the dry cleaners, an easy escape and an easy answer. He thought that I was upset about forgetting his dry cleaning – when in reality, my tears formed when the lie poured out of my mouth. A liar doesn't deserve this man. And while I haven't exactly outright lied about my… condition, I have been anything but truthful about everything else.
I have already ruined enough. The sad thing is, he doesn't even know how much his life is changing – I can't even do that for him, I can't even tell him about… that. He has every right to know, but I'm too much of a coward to admit it to myself. I've already ruined enough. Enough.
Enough, I tell myself harshly. He deserves this night of bliss infinitely more than he knows, Nora. Do this for him. Who knows, it might be one of the last nights that we have together. Well, one of the last peaceful nights. I wouldn't blame him if he can't bear to look at me soon; it is only a matter of time. I look back up at him, still smiling down at me. Once again, my words feel like barbed wire as they scratch my throat. "This night is just what I need, Patch, to get my mind off of everything. I'll wash up, get changed, and then we can head out to dinner." I feel my lips curl into what I hope looks like a passable smile.
He must have believed it, because Patch replies with one of his pirate grins. I feel his warm breath against my neck as he leans in close, lips brushing my ear, "Believe me Angel… by the end of the night, you'll be screaming so loud you won't be able to hear yourself think." His low growl is just audible. My body freezes.
His soft lips travel from my ear down to the base of my throat. My eyes go wide as his hands reach around my back, grabbing my behind. I can't deny that his words sent shivers down my spine, but I push away from him with both hands. It's sickening, being treated like an angel when you feel like the exact opposite of one. I cover up my rejection with a light half-hearted tease, saying, "A real gentleman waits until after the date to start frisking, I believe." He winks at me and I turn on my heel, afraid that he'll see my lip wavering. I clutch the dress to my chest and hurry to the bedroom to change.
When I reach the threshold of the bedroom, I immediately step to the side, close the door, and press my back against the wood panels. My fingers release the black dress and let it fall to the floor, as if it will burn me if I hold it for a second longer. My hands, lost without anything to hold, desperately clutch my chest as my breathing quickens. My knees bend and my body slides to the floor in a slow and silent defeat. Silence – that's the most important part. I can't have Patch hearing my labored breath or my scratching fingers. For a minute or two, I am hunched over on the floor. My fingers clutch at my throat, trying to open my airways and steady my breath.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I repeat this to myself silently, willing my heart to slow down and my hands to stop shaking. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I have to. Putting on my bravest face, I stand and shake my limbs to ease them of their tension. I roll my neck and swing my arms, feeling oddly like I'm preparing for a fight in the boxing ring. And I guess… I am fighting. I'm fighting for any chance of a normal night. For peace of mind. For my sanity. Fighting like hell to get through this. When everything feels like it is against me, I'm fighting for a reason to keep going.
I begin to slip out of my clothes. I try to ignore the fact that my shirt clings to my stomach, a reminder of the ultrasound gel that was on it, not too long ago. My clothes fall limp to the floor around me, fanning out. I'm standing in my undergarments, nearly bare in the middle of the room, but I feel completely bare. I feel exposed. I look at my gawky limbs as the evening light streams through the cracks of the blinds. The skin stretched over my bones has a faint grey hue, dull and devoid of the brightness that is usually trapped underneath the surface. I resist looking in the mirror.
I bend down to pick up the black dress and string of pearls. I slip the dress over my head. The way that I twist my arms to pull up the zipper mimics the feeling of a straight jacket. I shiver off the idea, allowing each movement to become robotic instead. Shutting off my thoughts are easier than facing them. Just as being in complete darkness is easier than seeing shadows. Easier. Easier.
Putting on the pearl necklace makes me feel somewhat at ease. A girl wearing pearls is elegant, classic. She is pure. The beads feel cool against the heat of my flushed chest, heavy against the movement of my breathing. They remind me of my mom, and how she always wears them. And with that thought, even though I tried to stop it, I feel the twist of my gut. My mom. Oh God. I haven't talked with her since… I can't even remember the last time. And now, how can I? Knowing what I know, being the way that I am. She probably thinks that my life is blissfully and uneventfully passing – and for now, I'll let her believe that. One more worry on her mind would wreck havoc. And I am so utterly tired of wrecking havoc in other people's lives.
Still avoiding the mirror's reflection at all costs, I try to tame my hair with my fingers, blindly twisting it into a simple French twist at the base of my neck. A few stray hairs slip out of the pins and I feel them brush against the sides of my face. I practice a smile on my lips, trying to make it feel effortless. I give myself a quiet pep talk, saying, "Nora Grey. You will make this evening pleasant for Patch. You will make it through this. You are strong." For what feels like the millionth time, my lip wavers and unshed tears threaten to spill. I whisper once more, "You are strong."
I walk to the closet and chose my favorite black heels to compliment my dress and complete the timeless look. However, just as I finish putting on the shoes, the doorbell rings. I nearly jump out of my skin, but I manage to suppress my shriek by covering my mouth quickly. I extend my hearing, expecting to hear Patch walking to answer the door. When I hear no footsteps, I collect my voice and say, "Patch, love, can you get the door?"
Once again, I hear no response from outside of the bedroom door. How odd, I think to myself. I grab my clutch and open the bedroom door, my heels instantly tapping on the hardwood floor as I walk down the hall. I call out once more, "Patch? Where are you?" He isn't in the living room, or the kitchen, or any other room for that matter. He is nowhere to be found.
The doorbell rings again. It echoes through the halls, reverberating through my bones. I am frozen in place, about ten paces from the front door. Where the hell is Patch? … And who could possibly be at the door?
I hastily make a decision. I step into the kitchen silently, walking on the balls of my feet to avoid the clicking of my heels on the floor. Without a sound, I pull a knife from the drawer, gripping it tightly and holding it down at my side. I realize that paranoia has struck, but I have had too many real-life horror movie experiences. And there is no way in hell I am going down without a fight.
I pad out of the kitchen silently, creeping towards the front door. When I get there, I extend my hearing to just outside the door – and hear nothing. Either they've left, or they are unnaturally and impossibly still. Either way, I'm about to find out. I reach out slowly and rest one hand on the doorknob. My other hand grips the knife at my side, ready for whomever or whatever is on the other side of that doorway. Just do it, I tell myself angrily. I swing it open and I see –
"Patch." I whisper, too stunned to reach normal volumes. He is standing on the other side of the door, dressed in an impeccably tailored dark grey suit and black tie, holding the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I have ever seen. It is filled with all of my favorite flowers, dozens of peonies, lilies, and hydrangeas. While my mouth hangs open in shock, his mouth slowly shifts, turning up into my favorite smile. He beams at me and whispers back, "Good evening, Ms. Grey. I'm here to pick you up for our date." His words melt my heart and bring real, happy tears to my eyes.
I lift up my arm with the hand holding the knife, and his eyes go wide. Before I can stop myself, I actually giggle at his reaction. I say to him, "I can see the headlines tomorrow – Sweetest Man in history, Stabbed by his crazed date. We'll be famous. Well, I guess I will be infamous, but that's –"
My words are cut off by Patch's mouth, kissing me so gently that it takes my breath away. When he pulls away, he says to me softly, "Ms. Grey, I would have been honored to have my life taken away by such an amazing, beautiful woman." A voice in the back of my mind that tells me, Nora, you have already taken away his life, and he doesn't even know it. I shove that voice down – Patch has made this night already too perfect to be ruined. He is perfect.
He grins that pirate grin and continues, saying, "Of course, the only downside to that scenario would be that our date would be cancelled. But, seeing as no one was stabbed, it seems as though you'll have to tough it out with me tonight. I hope you don't mind, Ms. Grey." He lifts his arms a fraction and presents the bouquet to me once more. I set the knife down on the small shelf where our keys dangle and I turn back to him, reaching out for the bouquet. When I take them, I give him the smallest curtsy, smiling genuinely and saying, "It would be my pleasure to accompany you on a date tonight, Mr. Cipriano." His dazzling smile is my response.
I'm just thinking about how I fall in love with him each and every time that he smiles. His smile always catches my breath and leaves my head spinning. It makes me dizzy, how much I love him. Actually … it makes me very dizzy. I'm actually feeling… quite light headed right now. I must have a frightened and dazed look on my face, because I hear Patch's voice ring in my ear, saying, "Angel, are you ok?" He sounds far away. His face is twisted in worry.
I use every ounce of energy I have to snap back into focus. It takes me a few seconds, but eventually I am back in my full senses, trying to quickly recover from that dizzy spell. I find that Patch is gripping my arms, trying to support me from falling. I find strength in my legs again and meet his eyes, saying, "I'm sorry. Just got a bit light headed. I'll go grab a drink of water and we'll be on our way! These beautiful flowers could use some water too! I'll just be a minute." I'm hoping that my cheerful words and quick recovery will shock him into thinking that he imagined the whole ordeal.
As I slip out of his arms and head into the kitchen, Patch follows, shutting the front door behind him. I busy myself with putting the flowers into the vase, avoiding his eye as he stands across the counter. Without meeting his gaze, I can tell that his eyes are searching for answers. He says quietly, "Nora. I won't pretend that I didn't see that happen. What was that about? Are you feeling ok tonight? You haven't quite been acting yourself recently." He reaches his hand across the counter and puts the back of his hand to my forehead to check for a temperature. I shrug his hand away and give him my most convincing smile.
As I walk over to the sink, I reply, "Love, it was just a dizzy spell, honestly. It was probably just from a long day of running errands. I'll get a drink of water and we'll be on our way! Wouldn't want to be late for dinner, would we?" I avoid his comment about acting strange as of late. After filling the vase with water and putting the flowers in, I set it in the middle of the counter and give Patch a light kiss on the cheek.
He gives me a sad, tired smile and says, "Ms. Grey, I just worry about you." He brushes his hand on the side of my face and looks into my eyes for a long moment. In the softest voice, he says to me, "So beautiful." I feel my cheeks flame and I look down, twisting my hands together as the man I love admires me. You'd think that I would be used to his affection, but each time, I feel just as young and shy as the first time he charmed me.
I take a small step away from him and spin, allowing my dress to fan out and flow with my movement. I giggle and keep spinning, feeling my spirit lift and my laughs echo on the walls. I must have stepped slightly toward Patch with my spinning, because I end up bumping into him, my hand resting on his chest and my body flush against his. I am out of breath and still giddy as I look up. He smiles down at me and wraps his arms around me. With a smirk on my face, I say to him, "Mr. Cipriano, I believe you're about to go on a date with the clumsiest girl alive. There would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind."
He takes my hand and gently lifts it to his mouth, kissing it ever so gently. Patch replies, his voice heavy with sincerity, "Nora Grey, it would give me no greater pleasure than to have this night with you, clumsiness and all. Shall we?"
Author's Note: Hello readers! I hope that you've enjoyed this last chapter. If you've managed to forgive my absence long enough to make it through this chapter, I am eternally grateful for your patience and your loyalty.
As I mentioned in the beginning, I wanted to share some things with you! You're more than welcome to ignore this note, for it has nothing to do with Patch and Nora's story. However, I felt that I owed you all an explanation for my long break in writing. For the past year or so, I have been dealing with some pretty significant and debilitating anxiety. With that came extreme writer's block. Every time I attempted to do what I most love – to write this story – I would be hit with waves of overwhelming despair. But since seeking help, I am proud to say that my anxiety no longer controls me! I would be more than happy to message any of you going through similar situations. I am here for all of you and I am so grateful that others have given me the same chance to be happy.
(For US residents) If you, or anyone you know, needs immediate crisis assistance, call the National Hopeline at 1-800-442-4673. For international readers, here is a link for international crisis center hotlines in your country: .info/resources/Crisis_Centres/
Thank you all! Much love. xx astoldbygingerr