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What the actual fuck?
This isnota good start. She’s staggering all over the fucking place. If anyone ever wondered where the term legless came from, they’d only need to look at my wife-to-be right now. I am fucking livid. No drink, she said. Fair enough, I knew she was lying, but to get completely shitfaced? She’s hung herself. Gone way too far.
I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the untamed rage before it has me exploding and doing more damage, my brain telling me to go to her quickly before she face-plants and breaks something, but my legs aren’t listening.
Then she spots me, and she has the nerve to looked pissed off. Oh, there’s going to be one hell of a showdown, and I can’t bring myself to try and stop it. I draw breath, ready to silence the bar with my rant, but she staggers again, and I march forward, set on taking her home this minute. But then her expression changes, the anger for me falling and confusion embedding itself on her face. And she sways, reaching for the nearest table. Fuck, she’s going to pass out. “Ava?” She blinks, shakes her head mildly, as if trying to shake away the fog. “Ava!” I yell, breaking into a run as I watch her body tilt forward, plummeting headfirst toward me. Toward the floor. “Fuck.” I catch her in the nick of time, and she’s a dead weight in my arms, floppy and completely out of it. I see Kate and Sam looking this way, alarmed. “If either of you say this is fine, I will lose my shit.” Because I’m not there already. I carry her to a nearby chair and sit down, getting her on my lap, holding her limp body with one arm, trying to direct her face to mine. “Ava?” I wriggle her but she’s completely unresponsive.
“She wasn’t drunk,” Kate says, falling to her knees in front of us, assessing her friend.
“Don’t, Kate,” I warn, in no mood for bullshit, as I pull back one of Ava’s lids, recoiling when I see her eyes rolling. “This is fucking ridiculous.” I stand with her draped across my arms and start walking out of the bar. “I’m taking her to a hospital.” Did she eat? Have enough water today? Jesus. Could she be pregnant? I grit my teeth, unable to accept that she’d get herself so drunk if she knew she was. So perhaps she doesn’t know she is.Fucking hell.
Jay flanks me as I carry her out, clearing the path. “What’s happened?” he asks, naturally alarmed.
“She passed out. How much has she had to drink?”
“I’m not her personal bodyguard, Ward. I do what I can, as I have explained endless times. Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
“I’ll get her there quicker myself.” I open my car door and get Ava in the seat, tapping her cheeks a few times, trying to bring her round. Nothing. I take her wrist, feeling for her pulse while I watch her chest.Fuming. She has drunk herself into a fucking coma. “I am never letting you out of my sight again.” I put her seatbelt on and shut the door, the agony and fear of seeing her like this very real, but there’s anger too. How irresponsible she is. How inconsiderate. How fucking reckless.
Kate rushes out the bar carrying Ava’s bag. “We’ll follow you,” she says, letting Sam pull her to his car.
The drive to the hospital gets me even more riled, the stench of wine on her potent. I know I have a sensitive nose, but this is absurd. I park illegally and haphazardly and carry her into A&E, yelling for assistance.
“Has she been drinking?” a nurse asks as she shows us to a private room.
“Yes,” I grate.
“How much?”
“Too much.” I lay her on the bed and reluctantly move back, letting the nurse start taking Ava’s observations.
“Her name?”
“Ava,” I answer shortly as she pulls her lids back, shining a light in them. “Is she okay?”
“Just give us space, Mr....”
“Ward.”
“And you are?”
“Husband.”
I look at the door when another nurse joins us, pulling in a machine. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside,” she says, not physically moving me, but not far off, and short of physically movingher, I have no choice but to leave or get myself arrested for alleged assault. The door shuts in my face, and I stare at the blue glossy finish, feeling at my chest, my heart slowing down.Jesus fucking Christ.
I stride up and down, for what feels like forever, and Kate bursts through the door and spots me, slowing her pace. “She’s in there,” I say, motioning to the door. “With nurses.”
“Do they know what’s wrong?”
I shake my head, my eyes on my feet, walking up and down, up and down. “Fuck,” I yell, my fists balling. “I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let her out.” I’m so fucking angry with myself for going against my gut. It won’t happen again. I look at Kate accusingly, and she looks away, appearing pissed off. She can fuck off. I’m savage and, actually, I’m pissed off with her too, and I’m just about to tell her when the door opens, shutting me up. A nurse steps out, and I step forward, firm in my stance but cautious. “How is she? What’s wrong with her? Hav—”
“Mr. Ward.” She raises her hand to silence me. “She’s okay. Still unconscious, however. Her heart rate is a little fast. We’ve called for a doctor,” she says, looking at the watch attached to her pocket.
“Then where the hell is he?” I ask, feeling a hand land on my bicep. I look to my side and find Sam. I shrug him off. No, I won’t calm down. Can’t.
“On his way, Mr. Ward.” She holds out her hand. “Her jewelry.”
“You removed it?” I ask, accepting the earrings and her engagement ring.
