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“Ironic, really…” Tennyson mutters, and we all look at him and wait.
“What?” Harrison questions, as he starts to pace the small lounge.
“That it is her heart that is not working properly. Just goes to show. You’ve got to use the muscle; otherwise, it just wastes away.”
“How long do you think we will be waiting here?” I ask them all as Tennyson and Ben sit back and go through emails on their cell phones. Harrison looks at me and sighs.
“Go find her, Eddie, but be discreet. There are people everywhere who are more than happy to make a quick buck from the media for just a photo of us,” Harrison warns, looking at me with concern.
“Call me if you have any updates. I will stay in the hospital. I will try and find her,” I say with conviction, stepping out the door. As I close the door behind me, I almost fall straight into the nurse who was with Katie earlier.
“Excuse me?” I say, stopping her in her tracks.
“Yes, Mr. Rothschild?” she asks, looking a little less flustered than before.
“I am looking for Katie?” I say tentatively, and her lips thin.
“Her shift has ended. She left for the day.” My eyes flick to her name tag. Shelley. Her name sounds familiar. I am sure she is friends with Katie.
“Can you tell me where the neonatal ward is?” I ask, having my suspicions of where she might be. A small smile plays on Shelley’s lips, and she looks at me knowingly.
“You will find her in room 204, down the hallway and to the left. Tell the nursing manager that Shelley sent you down to find Katie,” she says in a small voice, like she is telling me a secret.
“Thank you,” I offer, feeling a little more at ease.
I hear a small but distinct click over my shoulder, and I turn and see a paparazzi edging around the corner.
“Security!” Nurse Shelley says loudly, making the pap jump, and the hospital security staff follow him quickly.There are people everywhere who are happy to make a quick buck from the media.Harrison’s statement rings in my mind so I fix my collar and nod to Shelley, walking briskly past her, following the directions she gave me.
It is quiet down at this end of the hospital, a far cry from the bustling cardiac center. The nursing manager at the front is surprised to see me. It is probably not often that men in suits come to this part of the hospital. I swallow as I walk down the peaceful hallway. All the doors are shut except for one. My shoes clicking on the tiled floor is the only sound. My heart is racing, as nervous energy strums in my limbs. I lied. I lied to her face. I slept with her, knowing she didn’t have the whole truth about the man she was sleeping with. Maybe she will like rich me just as much as she likes poor me? It is still just me. I’m still just Eddie.
I slow my walk as I come to room 204. The door is open, and I stand in the doorway and look inside. She is like an angel. The lights are low, the room quiet. She is sitting in a large armchair, holding a baby in her arms, patting its bottom in slow, soft movements that I am sure anyone would find relaxing.
“I was born to a drug-addicted mother in Boston. My mother was a sixteen-year-old girl from the wrong side of the tracks. She left me to die on a park bench. I’m told an early morning garbage collector found me just in time; otherwise, I would have died. I would like to think that back then, I had a cuddler too,” she says, not looking at me, and if I thought my heart was already in pain, it has just split completely in two. This is not what I was expecting.
I pause as I take in the information. Now is the time. I need to spill it all as well.
“My name is Edward Rothschild. One of four boys born into the Rothschild family dynasty. I got top grades at school, and I went to Stanford. My brother is Harrison Rothschild, governor of Maryland. I am not a building maintenance man… I actually own the building. I enjoy learning the trades on the weekend, though. It is a hobby of mine, I guess you could say. I am personally worth over ten billion dollars. I have a penthouse not far from your building. Tony is my driver; Brian is my staff member, and I have never wanted for anything in my life until now,” I say as the air leaves my lungs.
Her eyes flick to me, but she remains silent.
“I want you. I lied about my job, about my position in society, but I didn’t lie when cooking you dinner, helping your foot cramps, or getting you your morning coffee. It was me who held you when you were sleeping; it was me who made you lunch; it was me when we were in bed together. All of that was one hundred percent me,” I say, my voice already pleading with her. Her facial expression is one of sadness, yet she is calm.
“Was it? How will I ever know? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? Are you just with the poor girl to get your kicks? Is that it?” she questions, her hands continuing to pat the baby’s bottom, but I see steel in her eyes. She is mad.
“No! Fuck, I want to parade you in front of the world. I want everyone to know you are mine. I want them to see how amazing and beautiful you are. It’s just, my life is complicated. I was selfish and wanted to keep you just for myself for a little while. While we got to know each other and built something solid. Women usually only like me for my money and my name. I wanted to see if you would be with me just for me. It sounds stupid, but once we come out as a couple, once the world knows, life changes dramatically. Media follows you; you start trending on social media; paps take your photos. Your whole history will be dragged through the newspaper. Everyone will know who you are,” I explain, feeling a pain in my chest.
“Worried I will tarnish your reputation? I probably will, let’s be honest. I grew up in a trailer park. I bounced from home to home. When I was younger, I had days when I didn’t eat. I was an outcast at school, bullied. I wore the same clothes for an entire year when I was twelve. Even now, my life is less than perfect. I worked hard to get myself out of the situation I grew up in, but I still survive paycheck to paycheck. Those baskets the building…” She pauses, taking a breath. “Those baskets thatyougot me, I knew exactly how to ration so that they fed me for an entire week. The food you filled my cupboards with, it felt like I won the lottery.”
“I am not ashamed or embarrassed about you at all. If I had one ounce of the grit and determination you do, I would be such a better man. All of what you saw was all me. I want the chance to make it up to you. I want us to date in the real world and not holed up in your apartment. I want to take you places, show you off to everyone,” I say, my words rushing out before I really have a chance to think them through.
“I am not a handbag, Eddie. I am not someone you can splash around. The alternative girl with the pink hair and tattoos. Is that why you like me? Because I am not some rich, posh, stuck-up bimbo? Maybe you are rebelling? You did say your mother was trying to marry you off. How do I know I am not just a phase?” she asks, and I can see her breathing become more labored, the anger simmering at the surface.
“You want to know why I like you?” I ask, my eyes creasing in confusion that she doesn't already know. “I like you because you are genuine. You say what's on your mind. You are strong and independent. You are sassy, smart, and fucking sexy as hell. I like laughing with you. I like sleeping with you and watching you snore. You do this little half snore when you are really tired. That is cute as hell,” I say, a small smile dancing on my lips as I remember her in bed this morning, with that very snore on repeat.
I watch her sigh as she offers me a resigned, small smile.
“I think some things are just not meant to be. I'm too broken and you're too perfect.” She lowers her head, looking at the baby, putting an end to this conversation that is going nowhere fast. I watch her in silence for a minute before I step away. I need to figure out how I can keep her, because there is no doubt in my mind that Pinkie is the girl for me.
