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Chapter Thirty-Five
Saoirse woke up to a pounding headache, a cotton mouth and feeling sore all over. Also exhausted. What the hell?
She didn’t remember much of last night at all, which wasn’t like her. Even when she’d been drinking most heavily she’d never blacked out and she only remembered having one drink last night. The glass of champagne Arthur had said she could.
Oh no. Arthur. He was going to be so, so disappointed in her, and so angry. How could she have let this happen? How could—
Except then there was a cool hand being passed over her forehead and it felt really good. And a soft, low voice in her ear.
“Saoirse, princess? Are you awake, pretty girl?”
Right. She hadn’t opened her eyes because her eyelids and lashes felt like they were made of lead and her limbs all felt like they were weighed down by sandbags.
Finally though, she managed to blink her eyes open, and Arthur was sitting next to her. Had pulled up a chair to the side of her canopy bed in her princess room. Was looking at her with so much concern it almost scared her. Plus he kinda looked like shit even though he was still wearing his tux, like maybe he’d gotten hit by the same truck as she had except he’d stayed up all night whereas she’d been knocked out.
His dashing bow tie was slung untied and unevenly around his neck, the first couple of buttons of his shirt collar were undone, and he’d taken his jacket off altogether.
“There’s my sweet girl.”
He stroked her hair and then took her hand, and… Why did she have an IV?
“I’ve been so worried about you. And I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” she croaked. God, she sounded awful.
“Do you remember last night at all? Anything that happened?”
“No. Not really. I remember going to the party and seeing Sable and meeting Jethro and then…nothing. Was I bad? Daddy, I didn’t mean to be bad. I’m sorry. I swear I only had the glass of champagne you said was okay, but I—”
“Oh, princess, shh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. You were so well-behaved. Did exactly as I asked. Someone dosed your drink.”
She frowned, trying to get her head around it. Who would do that? And why?
But it warmed her heart to know Arthur believed she’d only had the one glass of champagne. Not only because she was following the rules—his rules—but because she wanted to prove she could drink responsibly in a setting like that with alcohol all around. It hadn’t been easy exactly, but it hadn’t been as difficult as she might’ve thought.
But her daddy having no doubts about her being able to succeed and keep her word? Yes, she’d made mistakes and she’d surely make more but she had promised and she took her promises very seriously. It was so nice to know the weight of her devotion and commitment meant something to him.
“Do you remember coming home last night?”
“No.”
“When we left the party, Jethro offered to drive us home and Sable followed in their truck. In the car you kept crying and crying. I felt terrible, like my heart was being ripped out. You kept asking me to believe you and saying you were sorry, and Saoirse, I did. I knew you wouldn’t have broken your promise. And if you had, it would’ve been because I failed you.”
That was silly. She didn’t always act like it, but she really was an adult who could be responsible for her own actions.
“You’ve never failed me. If I’d had too much to drink, it wouldn’t have been your fault. It would’ve been mine. It’s not like you would’ve ever lined up tequila shots in front of me.”
“Of course not. But I could’ve put too much stock in my own opinion about what you needed instead of consulting an actual professional. It could have been a mistake keeping you at home when you could’ve used more help just because I wanted you with me. And the truth is, it probably wasn’t the most responsible decision and I’m sorry for that. You deserve a daddy who isn’t so stubborn and narcissistic. I promise to take better care of you in the future.”
Arthur was hardly a narcissist. She attended law school and had grown up with Renata Sullivan—Saoirse knew from narcissists. He could be stubborn, yes, but she loved his tenacity and his devotion which were the other sides of that same coin.
“You already take good care of me. And thank you for believing me. I…I don’t think everyone would.”
She looked in his eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing: her mother hadn’t.
“Doctor Eric came last night and looked you over, took a blood sample so we could prove someone had put something in your drink. Since we didn’t know what they gave you or how much, Doctor Eric couldn’t give you anything so we just did our best to warm you up and keep you hydrated. That’s why you’ve got the IV. He should be coming by in about an hour to check on you. He said you’d probably be feeling pretty rough when you woke up.”
That was the understatement of the century.
