There was a vibration against my shoulder and I teased, “Is that a new toy in your pocket, ace?”
“Should’ve turned the damn thing off,” he muttered, digging his phone out. He looked at the screen, then answered with a clipped, “Cross.”
I heard a woman’s agitated voice coming through the receiver, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“When?” After hearing the answer, he asked, “Where? Yes. I’m on my way.”
He hung up and raked a hand through his hair.
I stood. “What’s wrong?”
“Corinne’s in the hospital. My mother says it’s bad.”
“I’ll get dressed. What happened?”
Gideon looked at me. Goose bumps swept across my skin. I’d never seen him look so … shattered.
“Pills,” he said hoarsely. “She swallowed a bottle of pills.”
WE took the DB9. While we waited for the attendant to bring the car to us, Gideon called Raúl, telling him to meet us at the hospital to take over the Aston Martin when we arrived.
When Gideon slid behind the wheel, he drove with tight focus; every turn of the wheel and press of the accelerator was skilled and precise. Enclosed in the small space with him, I knew he’d shut down. Emotionally, he was unreachable. When I placed my hand on his knee to offer comfort and support, he didn’t even twitch. I wasn’t sure he even felt it.
Raúl was waiting for us when we pulled up to the emergency room. He opened the door for me, then rounded the hood and took the driver’s seat after Gideon got out. The gleaming car was moved out of the drop-off driveway before we walked through the automatic doors.
I took Gideon’s hand, but I wasn’t sure he felt that, either. His attention was riveted on his mother, who stood when we entered the private waiting area we’d been directed to. Elizabeth Vidal barely glanced at me, going straight to her son and hugging him.
He didn’t hug her back. But he also didn’t pull away. His grip on my hand tightened.
Mrs. Vidal didn’t even acknowledge me. Instead, she turned her back to me and gestured at the couple seated together nearby. They were clearly Corinne’s parents. They’d been talking to Elizabeth when Gideon and I came in, which seemed odd to me since Jean-Fran?ois Giroux was standing alone by the window, looking as much like an outsider as Elizabeth was making me feel.
Gideon’s hold on my hand slackened as his mother pulled him toward Corinne’s family. Feeling awkward standing in the doorway alone, I went to Jean-Fran?ois.
I greeted him softly. “I’m very sorry.”
He looked at me with dead eyes, his face seeming to have aged a decade since we’d met at the wine bar the day before. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Vidal called Gideon.”
“Of course she did.” He looked over to the seating area. “One would think he was her husband and not I.”
I followed his gaze. Gideon was crouched in front of Corinne’s parents, holding her mother’s hand. A sick feeling of dread spread through me, making me cold.
“She would rather be dead than live without him,” he said tonelessly.
I looked back at him. Suddenly, I understood. “You told her, didn’t you? About our engagement.”
“And look how well she took the news.”
Jesus. I took a shaky step toward the wall, needing the support. How could she not know what a suicide attempt would do to Gideon? She couldn’t be that blind. Or had his reaction, his guilt, been her aim all along? It made me sick to think of anyone being that manipulative, but there was no denying the result. Gideon was back at her side. At least for now.
A doctor entered the room, a kind-looking woman with cropped silvery blond hair and faded blue eyes. “Mr. Giroux?”
“Oui.” Jean-Fran?ois stepped forward.
“I’m Dr. Steinberg. I’m treating your wife. Could we speak privately for a moment?”
Corinne’s father stood. “We’re her family.”