Her Inconvenient Groom by Niomie Roland
Chapter 31
Chantelle couldn’t have imagined it would be possible to feel so empty. To feel loss so deeply and hugely. How could you miss something that hadn’t been there three months ago? How did you grieve for someone you had never met?
She lay with her hand over her hollow tummy, feeling as if the void inside her stretched all the way to infinity. And she knew in her heart it was a dark, cold space that would never be filled again.
In and out, in and out, doctors came and went. Surgeons and medical doctors and specialists and who knew what else. All poking and prodding and asking the same questions over and over.
But nobody had an answer.
Something was killing her slowly. And neither she nor anyone else could figure out why.
“Chantelle?” She heard her name being called softly. It was Dustin, of course. He was always there, even as she drifted off to sleep. She turned in the direction of the sound, though all she could see was a dark blur. Her vision was fading in and out, and even when she could see it was nothing but painful, blurred shapes. Her legs felt like logs, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to get up even if she wanted to.
She was dying. She knew it, and the doctors had confirmed it. She had maybe a week at the most. Already Dustin had called Sienna, who was on her way back to France. The thought that this bright, trustworthy young woman would be here to make all her final arrangements gave her comfort.
Dustin called her name again. She could hear his anguish, and hated it, because it caused an echoing cry to rise up within her. She didn’t need this. Didn’t want this. What she felt for him was frightening enough and unwelcome enough in the best of circumstances. But to know you were dying, and to have a world of pleasure and happiness just outside your grasp. She couldn’t bear it.
“Come closer,” she asked.
Chantelle could feel his weight making the bed sink as he sat next to her. Vaguely saw the shape of him as he leaned in.
“Yes, love?”
She ignored that word and said stoically. “You need to go.”
“What?” The shock in his voice was clear. “What did you say?”
“Go home, Dustin. Back to your family.”
“Why?” He sounded perplexed. “You want me to leave you?”
She licked her lips, and he brought her some water. She drank thirstily before saying, “You’ve done your job. You’ve fulfilled your contract.”
“There’s more to this than a job,” he countered. “Why do you keep reducing me to that? I’m not your employee, Chantelle. You made that very clear when we began this… merger. I’m here for you.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m dying—”
“Don’t be—”
“It’s not ridiculous. I know it. The doctors confirmed it. You need to accept it. Leave me alone.”
“No.” His voice was soft and low, but firm.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not leaving. A man doesn’t leave the woman he loves—”
She remained alone with that word for several moments, just listening to it echo in her mind. Love? Certainly, he was mistaken. He felt something for her because she’d been carrying his child, but that child was gone now, delivered into the arms of the angels. No longer of this Earth. Sex between them had been good too. But again, that love-sex dynamic was nothing but a chemical reaction. Little sparks firing in the brain.
Apart from that, he was making things up in his head like a schoolgirl.
“Go away, Dustin,” she insisted.
His lips brushed her cheek, and he repeated himself, “No.”
She heard the door open and close, and there were two more voices in the room, laced with forced cheerfulness, one male and one female. She recognized the first immediately: it was William. When soft lips pressed against her cheek, and she was enveloped in a cloud of expensive perfume, she knew it was Madeline, Liam, and Alex’s mother. Her mother’s old friend.
“Cherie,” the older woman said. “I came as soon as I heard. We’re here for you.”
Chantelle could sense Dustin bristling at her side, and knew he was probably miffed because their conversation and his foolish declaration had been interrupted. Desperately, she blurted, “Get him out, Liam!”
“What?” Dustin cried, stunned.
“Pardon?” Liam said, nonplussed.
Chantelle could feel the anguish, feel the tears gathering, and was determined not to let anyone see them spill. “I need you to remove my husb— remove this man from my room. I don’t wish to see him anymore.”
“Pourquoi?” Liam asked, but with her blurred vision, she could see him already moving closer to Dustin, always a loyal friend.
“Sweetheart, don’t do this?” Dustin groaned, aghast. “I love—”
The door opened again. This time, several pairs of heavy feet. Chantelle sensed this was serious.
They identified themselves as police, and things started to move fast. Too fast. She heard a declaration of arrest, first in French, and then in English. Something about attempted murder. Her murder. Madeline gasped. Dustin protested. The clack and snap of handcuffs.
And then tremors seized her body, shaking her, tossing her like she was a mere toy. She could feel her teeth clamp down on her lip, taste salty blood, but couldn’t stop herself. Help me! she screamed. Stop it!
But the screaming was all in her head. Nobody could hear her. Nobody could see her as she tumbled backwards into blackness.