Questionable Morals and Breached Contracts

Chapter 32: Daniel

I am unable to divert my gaze from her still figure lying in the hospital bed. Louise, unconscious and broken. The guilt gripping me is suffocating. A force that won't let go. I catch myself pleading someone above to swap places with her. The machines hum around us, as my guilt chokes me. 
All of this is my fault. 
MY FAULT.
MY
FUCKING
FAULT.
The damning words echo relentlessly in my mind, a self-imposed sentence that refuses to be silenced. Wires dangle from Louise, monitoring her every vital sign, and the burden of culpability settles heavily on my conscience. Malcolm, though not as severely injured as Louise, has been relocated to Cromwell Hospital for thorough examination and recovery. I spared no expense in securing a private room, entrusting him to Dr. Preston, the only person I believe can guarantee his safety.

I made the call to Malcolm's wife, my apologies tumbling out in a desperate stream. I assured her that every cost incurred would be covered by me, and I promised to continue Malcolm's pay as if he were working, regardless of the time it takes for him to recover. The guilt flew through me, a bitter taste lingered with every fucking promise I made. 
Course. My Bentley, is fucked. She lies wrecked and written off, as per the police report. I haven't laid eyes on her yet, but in a bid to restore some semblance of normalcy, I contacted my insurance company, arranging for a replacement to be delivered within the next 48 hours. Malcolm, in his generosity, provides me with a list of replacement drivers, understanding the urgency of my predicament. I dismiss his concern, insisting that finding a substitute driver is the least of his worries.
His injuries, including a cracked cheekbone, four broken ribs, and a fucking broken arm, serve as a painful reminder of the repercussions of my ill-fated decision to take the day off with Georgia. In that alternate reality, Malcolm and Lo wouldn't have been anywhere near Charing Cross. The arms of guilt wrap around me, knowing that my seemingly innocent decision set in motion a chain of events that led to this fucking bullshit outcome.

Seated at Bill's Clink Street Restaurant, having what was supposed to be a brunch with Georgia, the tranquillity of the stress-free-moment was shattered by the persistent ring of my phone. The display flashed an UNKNOWN NUMBER, triggering an instinct to answer it.
However, Georgia swiftly intervened, seizing the phone from my grasp and tucking it away in her bag with a firm declaration, "This is A DAY OFF DAN. We are brunching. Brunch doesn't involve phones. This is staying in my bag until we are done."

Ignoring the caller, Georgia proceeded to order 'Bill's Big Brunch' for both of us, along with extra servings of buttermilk pancakes, croissants, and bacon. Whilst sipping our Supergreens Smoothie, Georgia's attention shifted downward to her handbag. "Your phone won't stop fucking ringing. It's must be important. Answer it and make them go away," she chuckled, handing the phone over to me.
14 missed calls. I answered abruptly, but I was interrupted..

"Mr. Mattlesworth, this is Nurse Shaw from the Royal London Hospital. We are ringing you in regards to your mother, Louise Beaker..."
I barely registered the rest of her words. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, and a lump formed in my throat. The surroundings fell into a silence as I strained to comprehend the devastating news. Without a word to Georgia, I abruptly left the table. Flagging down the first black taxi I spotted, I instructed the driver to take me to 78 Cannon Street. Upon arrival, I handed him a crisp £100 and found myself outside John's offices. It was a surreal blur as I blinked, suddenly appearing on the fifth floor, storming towards Millie's office.
Time lost its grip on me during those moments.
Why did I go to Millie when the call came?
I couldn't come up with an answer.
All I knew was that I was grateful I did.

I should've known better than to try to kiss her; it was a reckless move driven by a longing for familiarity, a craving for the comfort that her lips once provided. Yet, in hindsight, I realise how fucking foolish and impulsive it was. As we made our way from the office to the hospital, my mind was consumed with guilt and worry. The thought of facing Louise and the uncertainty of her surgery's outcome left me fucking petrified. Each step felt like wading through a fog of anxiety. Louise's sons reached out to me, each call a reassurance. We made an agreement to convene at the hospital as soon as possible. Arriving at the hospital, my nerves were palpable. The prospect of encountering Louise's condition head-on left me feeling frozen.
It was Millie, with her unwavering wits and grace, who stepped in to shield me from the overwhelming pressure. Assuming the role of my wife, she navigated the conversation effortlessly from the nurse, sparing me from the burden of choking in front of her.

Watching her wear the ring, stirred something of 'conflicting emotions' within me. That made me smile for a moment. The arrival of Louise's sons brought my shoulders down. Despite not sharing blood ties, the bond made over years of shared experiences transcended family boundaries. Louis, Lee, and Bobby. From the trenches of stag weekends to the heights of wedding celebrations, we have experienced a lot of life together. We stood facing each other discussing what had we had already been told and what the potential outcomes were. Distress, worry and panic filled all four of our faces. My eyes trailed across the waiting room, hoping that a nurse or doctor would barge through the doors to confirm that Louise was fine, but nothing. I noticed Millie's eyes drifting towards me. I felt the need to comfort her, amidst the chaos I had brought her in to.  As our eyes connected, I winked. I hope she found some reassurance in that second. It was subtle, so the boys didn't notice.

As the doctor finally made his way into the waiting room, the air thick with anticipation of whose name he would speak. When he announced Louise's full name, in unison, we rose to our feet. With trembling hands, I reached out and grabbed Millie in a tight embrace, seeking comfort and hope in her presence. When the doctor uttered the long-awaited words, "she's going to be fine," relief flooded through us like a fucking wave. Bobby's tears streamed down his face.
Louis immediately assumed the role of planner, his mind already racing ahead to the next steps in Louise's recovery. Lee, ever the communicator, wasted no time in sharing the good news with Anisha his wife, his fingers flying across his phone screen in a blur of urgency.
Finding a brief moment amidst the commotion, I slipped away to Millie, holding her close and tightly, overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. Though my words failed to express it, she understood the depth of my appreciation.
The idea of visiting Louise for the first time with Louis was fucking daunting, each step echoed with my own voice 'THIS IS YOUR FAULT'.
Yet, returning to the waiting room, Millie's presence drowned out my thoughts. I didn't deserve the pleasure of seeing her face upon my return. I have been a cunt for days.

Entering Louise's room with Louis, the sight that greeted us was nothing short of heart-wrenching. Her face bearing the bruises of the accident, her body tethered to machines and wires, each serving as a stark reminder that this was my fucking fault. Louis moved first, his steps heavy as he approached the end of Louise's bed. His grip on the bed frame was white-knuckled. I could sense the lump forming in his throat, an all too familiar sensation that mirrored my own struggles throughout the day. As he began to clear his throat, I instinctively placed a comforting hand on his back.
After what felt like an eternity, I made my way to the chair beside Louise's bed, my hand finding its place atop hers. As we sat by Louise's side, lost in our thoughts, a doctor entered the room, launching into a discussion with Louis about her operation and the steps in her treatment. Though his words filled the air, I found myself unable to fully absorb them, my mind consumed by the gravity of the situation.
The guilt weighing heavily on my chest threatened to suffocate me. The fucking ache was overwhelming.. Louise, a fixture in my life since childhood, lay before me in a hospital bed, and the realisation of her fragility hit me with a force I couldn't comprehend. 
I don't even remember the last fucking thing I said to her. How shit is that. 

We lingered in the room for some time, until Louis suggested that we give the others a chance to visit her. As we strolled back to the waiting room, a sudden realisation struck me: Georgia. How the fuck could I have forgotten about her? With Louis leading the way, I swiftly tapped out a text to her, quickly summarising the situation.
Lee and Bobby promptly departed once we returned, leaving me to settle back into the seat beside Millie. There was a odd comfort in finding her still sat in the same spot I had left her. I let my hands gently rest on her thighs. Billie, always the forward thinker among us, had thought ahead and brought us each two sandwiches, knowing full well we would all be fucking starving. My weakness for the M&S Chicken and Sweetcorn sandwiches was unmatched; one simply is never enough. As Lee and Bobby reappeared, announcing their intention to leave, I couldn't help but feel a selfish sense of relief. I wanted to visit Louise alone. There was an apology I needed to get out, regardless if she could hear me or not.
Billie referred to Millie as my girlfriend a few times, and though a part of me hesitated to correct her, another part lacked the fucking energy to delve into the details of our relationship. When Billie extended an invitation to Millie for her baby shower, I sensed Millie's polite acquiescence as she nodded along. After all, you can't overly say no to a pregnant woman, can you?