•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
"We haven’t had the conversation yet."
"Exactly."
Then his expression changed slightly, the amusement faded.
He looked at me more carefully, all the teasing dropping away like a curtain pulled back.
"You’re really are nervous."
I swallowed, giving up denial. "Yeah."
"Why?"
I stared at him.
Because I loved him.
Because I’d spent the entire week imagining how I’d say it. Because I was terrified he’d laugh, or worse, that he’d go quiet in that unreadable way of his and I’d spend the rest of the night trying to interpret it.
Because I’d never felt anything like this before. Because somehow the man sitting across from me had become the person I wanted to tell everything to, even the things I usually kept locked away where nobody could use them against me.
I opened my mouth. "Damien, I..."
My phone rang, I nearly jumped the hell out of my chair.
Oh, c’mon what now?!
The sudden sound cut through the quiet music and the sound of the waves, jarring and out of place against the candlelight, I looked at the screen.
Unknown number...For some reason, I didn’t think twice before answering.
I answered, wondering if there was a slight possibility that I could jump through the phone and strangle whoever was calling. "Hello? What the fuck do you want?"
If it was Joey calling to ’check in’ again I swear I would find a way to strangle him from across the world.
There was a pause, then a man’s voice came through. It wasn’t Joey...and looking back on it now. I think I would have preferred it if with was my dumbass best friend calling me instead.
"Is this Oliver Reyes?"
"Uh...yeah."
"Oliver, my name is Dr. Morgan. I’m calling from the hospital where your father is being treated."
Everything inside me went still, I sat straighter. "Is...is my dad okay? Is everything okay?"
There was another pause...it wasn’t a long one.
It didn’t need to be.
Something in that silence told me everything was about to change.
"I’m afraid we need to speak with you about his condition."
My grip tightened around the phone. "W...what happened?"
"Your father’s liver condition has deteriorated significantly over the past two weeks."
I stared at nothing. "...What?"
"His condition has become critical."
My chair scraped against the floor as I stood, Damien immediately looked up.
I turned away from him, my voice trembling. "N...no. He was doing better, are you sure! I don’t get it...you all said he was doing better!"
"I understand that, but his condition has changed."
"Then change his treatment or something."
"Mr. Reyes—"
"What does critical mean?!" My voice was rising. "I need you to tell me exactly what that means!"
The doctor remained calm.
"Your father needs a liver transplant. We’ve been monitoring him closely, but his liver function has declined to a point where surgery is now necessary."
I couldn’t breathe. "...Surgery?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"As soon as possible."
I swallowed hard, my heart was pounding to the point that I feared that I would need surgery next. "Then do it."
"We need to evaluate him for the procedure and begin the process immediately."
"Then start."
"Oliver, there’s something else you need to understand."
I closed my eyes, trying my best to hold back tears. "What?"
"If he doesn’t receive the necessary treatment, his condition is life-threatening...We are very aware of your financial situation–"
My hand began shaking.
"No."
"Oliver—"
"No, but you all said he was stable."
"He was."
"You said he was resting."
"He was."
"You told me—"
I stopped.
My voice cracked. "Why didn’t anybody call me sooner?"
The doctor was quiet for a moment. "Your father specifically asked us not to contact you during your exams."
I stared at the ocean.
The beautiful sunset suddenly looked obscene, all that soft orange light completely indifferent to the fact that my entire world had just tilted sideways.
"He...he told you not to call me?"
"Yes."
"And you listened?!"
"He was very clear that he didn’t want you distracted or worried."
The doctor wasn’t lying, it sounded a whole lot like what my father would do.
I laughed...it wasn’t a real laugh.
It was the kind that escaped when something hurt too much to process properly, some involuntary noise my body made because it didn’t know what else to do with the information.
"So you just let me go on vacation?"
"Oliver, we were monitoring him closely...we believe we could treat him without resulting to surgery like we’ve done before–"
Damien was already standing, I could see him approaching from the corner of my eye, his chair pushed back so quickly it nearly toppled.
"Oliver."
I ignored him still yelling at the doctor.
"Then why didn’t you just ignore him and tell me?!"
"Your father insisted—"
"I don’t care what my father insisted! You should have fucking kept this from me...shit!"
My voice cracked across the terrace, loud enough that somewhere behind us I heard the faint sound of a staff member’s footsteps pause and then retreat.
Damien stopped in front of me.
His expression had completely changed, every trace of the easy warmth from a few minutes ago replaced with something sharper, more focused.
He reached for my free hand.
I barely felt it. "What do I do now?"
The doctor answered gently. "You need to come to the hospital as possible."
"Okay."
"You’ll need to contact the hospital when you arrive."
"I’ll come." I could barely hear myself. "Okay."
The doctor gave me the necessary information, but most of it blurred together.
Hospital...surgery...evaluation...critical...risk.
Those were the only words my brain seemed capable of retaining, everything else sliding past like water I couldn’t hold onto.
Eventually, the call ended, and I lowered the phone slowly...my hand was still shaking.
Damien stepped closer. "What happened to your dad?"
I looked at him.
For the first time since I’d known him, I didn’t know how to hide what I was feeling. There was no sarcasm left to reach for, no joke that could soften this.
My face crumpled.
"My dad...he’s condition has gotten worse, they’ll need to o–operate on him."
Damien’s expression softened immediately...his hand tightened around mine.
"When?"
"As soon as possible."
I shook my head. "They said he’s critical."
The word barely made it out, Damien pulled me into his arms.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and held on, the careful outfit and the perfect dinner and everything I’d rehearsed all week suddenly meaningless against the sound of that one word.
"He could die." My voice broke completely. "I’m even there right now when he needs me the most, this is all my fault."
"Oh...Oliver."
Tears blurred my vision as I pulled away from Damien’s embrace. "I need...I need to go back to him. Please take me back."
His voice was gentle but firm.
"You don’t get to blame yourself for something you couldn’t control."
I shook my head. "I have to go home, I need to see him."
"Okay."
Something about that single word, so small and so certain, nearly broke me all over again.
He brushed his thumb beneath my eye. "We’re going home."
I nodded and sped walked away from the fancy dinner and back to the bedroom to go pack my things.
I guess the universe even didn’t think I deserved three weeks of nothing but bliss.
One moment I was having a nice dinner about to confess to the person I had fallen in love with, the next...I was being told by a doctor that my father might die if he didn’t get surgery.