The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter

Thirty-Four

Ihurt, all over. If I breathed too deep, that hurt like all bloody hell. My arm ached. My face felt like someone had punched it, which technically was the truth, but it got smacked with an air bag as well. Then there was the matter of the small incision the doctors had made in my abdomen. Everything just hurt.

I opened my eyes slowly, struggling because they felt heavy and puffy. I looked around my surroundings through the slits my eyes allowed me to see through. The beeping of medical machines pierced my skull, exasperating a headache that already felt like it had my head in a vice. The lights were so bright my eyes watered. Then as I took in more, I realised it was the sunshine shining in the window that was too damn bright.

“You’re awake!” I turned my head slightly to see my mother beaming at me, tears streaming down her face.

“Close the curtains, please, Mum,” I whispered. I needed the room to be darker.

She jumped from her seat and had the curtains pulled to in a trice. “Sorry, darling, I wasn’t thinking when I opened them,” she apologised.

“Not your fault. How long have you been here?”

“About an hour. Dad’s gone to get coffee. Bastian is with Isla. We agreed to take turns and that she wouldn’t be left without one of us until you came home. She’s very upset, darling.”

I felt the tears welling in my eyes, restricting my vision even more. “She’s okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine. A little bruised and scraped, but mostly she’s just worried about you. We all thought that it was best that she not see you like this though.” Mum’s voice cracked at the last, clearly struggling to see me in this condition too.

“Give me a minute, Mum. Then I can call her. Let her hear my voice. I just want to be able to sound normal for her first.” And I choked on a sob.

My mother soothed me with those same sounds she had made for me when I was a small child and hurt. Together we cried for everything I had been through at Robert’s hands.

“What’s happened to Robert?” I had to know. As much as I hated him, I couldn’t bring myself to wish the worst on him.

“He’s in the ICU, and not doing well. He didn’t have his seat belt on they say. He’s had a head injury. I don’t know more, darling, because I really don’t care if that man rots in hell.”

I sighed. “I don’t wish him dead, Mum. I just hope I never have to see him again.”

“Well, if he lives, he has a lot to answer to with the police so I doubt you will have to see him outside of a court of law. Let’s not think of him.” She turned her head when my father came in with two takeaway coffee cups in his hands. “She’s awake, Greg. And she’s doing good.”

I smiled at her words. It wasn’t quite how I would describe my current condition, but on the other hand things could have been a hell of a lot worse. With this thought, I drifted back off to sleep.

The next time I awoke, Bastian was by my bedside.

“Hey,” I whispered to him, not sure I should speak as he was slumped in an awkward position, asleep. His head jerked and he looked momentarily disoriented, then he swung his gaze to me and his face lit up with a beaming smile.

“You’re awake,” he informed me.

“So are you.” I tried to smile back, but it hurt too much, so it was more of a grimace.

Leaning over me, Bastian pressed a kiss to my forehead ever so gently. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said bossily.

“Let myself be kidnapped to save my daughter?” I pretended to think about it. “I’m rather hoping I never have to make that choice again, but if I did, I’d do the exactly same thing all over again. Sorry.”

“Okay, fair enough. I’ll just have to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. I love you so much, Tori. I thought my life was going to end when he drove away with you. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. So help me, I will make it up to you, not being able to protect you.” Bastian’s face was pained, as if he blamed himself for my injuries.

“It’s not your fault,” I told him. “He had a gun. He was crazed. And he had Isla. You would have done anything to save her too. I know you would.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I would. I love your girl so much, baby. Like she was my own.” He took a deep breath, then said, “She is my own. As much as you are mine too. Please let me be a father to her, and a husband to you. Let me always be there to protect the two of you.”

I made a little undignified squeaking sound, and he pulled away enough to look me in the eyes. “Is that a proposal?” I asked.

A slow smile spread across his face. “I suppose it is. Not the one I planned on, mind you. Tori Belmane, I’ll ask again, I promise. But for now, let me know, will you be my wife?”

“I absolutely will.” I didn’t smile back because it hurt too much. But my heart glowed with happiness.

“I have a message for you from Isla.” Bastian reached for his phone which was on the bedside table.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Listen.” I watched a short video in which a very solemn Isla told me that she loved me more than the sun and the moon and the stars, and that I needed to come home soon because she missed me so much. Tears rolled down my face as I watched it, then watched it again. My heart and soul were intact because my girl was okay. Robert hadn’t managed to hurt her. We could fix the emotional damage he had done. I could heal from my wounds, but we were a family, and everything would be okay.

Two weeks later,I was lounging on a sunbed outside, under an umbrella at Bastian’s insistence, watching him on the trampoline with Isla. She was sat in the middle with her legs out straight in front of her, and Bastian was jumping around the periphery of the trampoline and every time he landed Isla launched into the air by about two feet. She was giggling hysterically and having the time of her life.

“Come on you,” Bastian said eventually. “We need to make Mummy some lunch.” He unzipped the safety net and jumped down to the ground, and then turned and lifted Isla into his arms.

“Okay, Daddy,” she said, giving him a hug. My heart lurched. Daddy. She called him Daddy. And it was so appropriate, because he was the best father figure she had ever had and was filling the role of father perfectly. I felt the tears welling but didn’t want Isla to think I was sad again. There had been too much of that in her life already.

She bounded over to me, like an over exuberant puppy. “Your eyes are so funny now, Mummy. They’re all green and yellow.” The swelling had gone down, and the bruising was slowly fading in a most glorious manner as it went from black, to blue, to green, and now it was segueing into yellow.

“Thanks, darling,” I replied wryly. “I put a lot of thought into these colours.”

“You’re so silly, Mummy. Come on, Bastian. Let’s make cheesy pasta. It’s the best ever!” And off she went into the house.

“Do you know how to make cheesy pasta?” I asked my man.

“Do I know how to make cheesy pasta?” he scoffed. Then I watched him grab his phone and look up a recipe. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered as he followed Isla into the house.

I sighed happily. My wrist was still in bandages that needed changing daily. I was due to get the pins out in a couple of weeks and then might have to have a plaster cast for a while, but it was healing. My ribs still hurt if I breathed too deeply or laughed too hard, but that was fading too. The bruises were disappearing one by one. The incision in my abdomen had healed more quickly than anything else, surprisingly.

Each day was better, and despite the trauma I had been through, I wasn’t suffering any nightmares from it. I think it was because of all that Robert had put me through during our marriage. I’d had years of counselling already. This time was different though. I had been hurt protecting my daughter and standing up to Robert. I felt empowered, despite the injuries I had suffered in the process.

I took a sip of my lemonade, and picked up my tablet so I could read a book. Happy squeals were coming through the open kitchen window and the deep rumble of Bastian’s voice as he worked with Isla were a fabulous background soundtrack.

I was immersed in my book when I heard Isla’s voice clearly say, “I don’t think that’s how it is supposed to look,” rather doubtfully.

“Hmmm,” Bastian’s voice didn’t sound too confident either. “Do you think Mummy would like sandwiches for lunch?”

I burst out laughing, wincing when my ribs protested, but not caring really. Life was too good to let a little discomfort get in the way.

Later that evening, Bastian and I sat outside after Isla had been put to bed. We lay on the same lounger, me between his legs, my head on his chest and his strong arms holding me close.

“Tori, I need to ask you a question.” His voice was tentative.

“Mmhmmm,” I murmured, so relaxed it was all I could manage.

“Robert said something when it was all happening. I can’t get it out of my mind.”

I craned my neck sideways, so I could look up at him. “What did he say?” I asked. Everything that had happened that day was a blur to me.

“He said,” Bastian took a deep breath, obviously struggling to speak the words. “He said, he should have killed Isla like he did the other one.” Bastian’s arms tightened around me. “What did that man do to you, my love?”

I shuddered and pressed myself into Bastian’s embrace. Memories that I tried to keep buried surfaced with a jarring thud. The pain of loss still fresh in my mind. But Bastian had a right to know. There should be no secrets between us.

“I told you how Robert coerced me into marriage.” Bastian nodded against the top of my head. “After we married, he got paranoid about how people would perceive my pregnancy. He was convinced that they would believe I only married him because of the baby. He couldn’t handle the idea of any social mockery.” I paused and Bastian stroked his hands over me, trying to sooth me.

“Don’t tell me if it’s too painful,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, you should know. He – he got in a temper when I started to show. He didn’t want people to know I was pregnant yet. Then he…” I took a gulp of air, and said the words. “He pushed me down the stairs and caused me to miscarry. He did it deliberately. It wasn’t an accident. He said that if people saw me pregnant, they would think I only married him because of the baby. And he wasn’t having that happen.”

“Oh Christ, baby!” Bastian buried his head in my hair and rocked me in his arms. “Never again. He’s never hurting you again. I promise. I’m so, so sorry for everything you went through at his hands.”

“Me too, Bastian. Me too. I wanted that baby. I loved it already. It was a boy. They told me at the hospital. In my head I called him Toby. Robert wouldn’t let me talk about him. But, yeah, Toby was my first baby.” I cried for all I had lost, cathartic tears with which I let go of the last of my sorrow. I would always have Toby in my heart, but it was time for my life to move on.