I sat at the dining room table, a mug of steaming hot ginger tea and a plate of half-eaten toast in front of me, as the Manhattan sunlight streamed through the window, reflecting rainbows from the glass all over the walls.
My head was pounding with every breath I took in, and it was as if I was on a lurching ship in the middle of a storm the way the nausea had hit me.
I was definitely feeling the after effects of last night, it had been a while since I'd drank so much. I was never usually hungover this badly.
Just as I considered stripping out of my clothes and padding back to bed for a lazy Sunday, Spencer walked in from our bedroom in suit trousers, his usual black Italian shoes, and a pressed white shirt, undone at the sleeves.
He frowned, looking over at me, "Still not feeling well?"
I shrugged, taking a sip of my tea, "Not really, but it'll clear soon. Perhaps I just need some fresh air later. A walk in Central Park, perhaps?"
Spencer smiled, as he threaded his cufflinks through his shirt sleeves, "Good idea, baby, as long as you're sure you're feeling up to it?"
"I took some Advil, I'm just waiting for it to kick in. That'll teach me to drink so much. I'll lie down for a bit and I'm sure it'll do a hell of a world of good."
He pursed his lips, closing the distance between us in a few strides to lean down and kiss the top of my head, "That's it, I'm not going to the office."
I rolled my eyes at my wildly overprotective and sensitive husband, "Spence, I'm good, honestly. I promise."
"You're sure?" Spencer sighed, "I can get someone else to deal with the paperwork. I don't want to leave you. I really didn't think you'd had that much to drink..."
I tilted my head up to kiss his lips, "Go. I'm fine."
He grasped my chin with his thumb, planting soft kisses on my mouth, "Okay. I'll be quick. It shouldn't take me any more than half an hour tops, alright? If I'm not back in an hour, just call the office and rescue me from work. I'll take the car so I'm faster. Yeah?"
"Yeah," I nodded, "I'll just take a nap on the sofa until you get back."
With that, Spencer bent down and swept me off the chair into his arms. I squealed in surprise as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He carried me over to his corner sofa, carefully laying me down amid the pillows.
He bent down and kissed my forehead, "I love you, Angel. Get some rest."
I smiled, already feeling sleepy, "I love you too. Go run your empire."
Spencer smirked, looking down briefly at his Rolex, and then back at me, "God, I miss you already."
"Spencer, go, for goodness sake!" I huffed with faux outrage, rolling my eyes.
He smirked at me, playful as ever, and then with one final kiss, he was gone.
*
It was the sound of my phone ringing that woke me.
I couldn't believe I had fallen asleep, and I jerked myself awake, my bones feeling heavy and tired.
The silver lining to the cloud was that my headache had dissipated and there was no longer a dull ache behind my eyes.
Stretching, I leaned over to check who had been calling me to see one missed call from Michael Montgomery.
But that wasn't what surprised me. It was 12.30, at least an hour since Spencer was meant to be back.
Don't tell me I have to rescue him from working too hard as per usual!
That was Spencer's way, he was so invested in the paper's success that one small project became two and then two became five and soon enough he was fighting all the fires in the newsroom and beyond.
And who could blame him? He was just as passionate about his work as I was. But I'd promised him I'd get in touch if he stayed at the office too long, so it was a vow I'd have to keep.
I frowned, thinking to myself.
Instead of simply calling the office, I could just get a cab over there...after all, The Global offices were practically right on top of Central Park anyway, and I could grab us drinks and then meet Spencer in the lobby.
Yep! That was it. With new resolve, I hurried into our bedroom, wrapping myself up in Spencer's Columbia sweatshirt and a pair of my favourite Levi jeans before throwing on my sneakers and a jacket, and grabbing a scarf from my top drawer.
It was getting colder again in New York City, just like clockwork, and while a brisk walk would do wonders for my disposition, I didn't want to freeze to death.
Striding quickly back into the living room, I grabbed my bag from off the handle of the door and slung it over my shoulder. Keys and purse and ready to go, I pressed the button for the elevator and was quickly on my way.
I ended up walking the final blocks to Spencer's office as the traffic around the area was absolutely horrendous.
It at least gave me the chance to stop at the coffee shop nearby to order two overpriced English breakfast teas for Spencer and I, as well as two chocolate muffins ready for our walk.
We could sit on a bench by the pond near the Alice in Wonderland statue, just like we used to and talk about the most random things. Spencer would probably convince me we could hire a row boat for the lake, a past time I was hesitant about, as I was always paranoid we'd capsize and end up drenched.
With my coffee shop bag in one hand and the cup holder in the other, I headed straight down the sidewalk, turning left and finding myself right outside The Global offices.
I headed up the stairs, passing the ostentatious globe fountain and pushing through the revolving double doors.
Just as usual, there was Tom, an intimidating presence standing suited and booted on the other side, earpiece in his ear, walkie talkie on his hip.
I waved, walking over to him, "Hi, Tom!"
Tom looked over and flashed me a huge grin, his pearly white teeth showing, "Mrs. Haywood! How are you?"
I smiled, raising one eyebrow, perplexed, "I'm good, thanks Tom. But how do you know my name has changed?"
Tom laughed, "How could I not know? My boss has been bragging about his new wife, non-stop. The piece in the Global helped. Plus, that huge rock and band on your finger there is as good a sign as any."
"Seriously?" I blushed. Damn, Spencer was really bragging about me? Even as his wife I was still struggling to get to grips with that.
"Well, it was all a bit of a whirlwind, Tom, I must say. What I thought was a holiday, ended up as a wedding."
The security guard shook his head, "We could all see he was infatuated with you. To me, it was just a matter of time-- and I don't mean that unkindly Mrs. Haywood."
"Tom, please, it's Adriana!" I insisted, "And what can I say? My husband was rather persuasive in his efforts to charm me. I think you're right."
Yet another person who said it was obvious Spencer had always loved me. How blind was I at this point?
Tom chuckled, "What can we do for you, anyway, Mrs. Haywood?"
I sighed. He really wouldn't call me by my first name, no matter how hard I tried.
"I'm here to visit my brow-beaten, overworked husband, if that's okay?" I responded, "He told me to come rescue him from the office if it's been too long. And I organised a coffee date."
I raised the hand with the paper bag in it, rattling the muffins and napkins inside.
"Well, you've missed him, I'm afraid." Tom said, shrugging.
I frowned. Missed him? "What do you mean?"
"He left the office about 45 minutes ago, or an hour...yeah about that," he replied, gesturing towards the door, "Said he was headed down to the parking lot to grab his car. I even radioed down to the guys to let them know."
I pressed my lips together, "That's...weird. If he left 45 minutes ago, then he would've been home by now. And he usually calls when he's leaving the office..."
"Are you sure he didn't call?" Tom said, equally perplexed, "Perhaps your cell is on silent. Do you need me to hold anything for you?"
I twisted my lips. Spencer not calling...that didn't feel right, "No, Tom, that's okay - thank you."
Balancing the bag hooked over my arm and the coffee cup holder, I used my free hand to rifle in my purse for my phone.
But then it dawned on me.
"Shit!" I exclaimed, "I must have left my phone on the coffee table in the living room at home."
Tom nodded, "Ah, well that makes sense. Mr Haywood was probably calling you but couldn't get through. No sweat."
Still, something seemed not quite right about this picture, but I brushed it off.
"Tom, could you do me a huge favor?" I asked, "Can I borrow your cell to make a quick call to my husband? Let him know where I am?"
"Of course, Mrs Haywood," Tom responded, reaching in his suit jacket and pulling out his iPhone, "Mr Haywood is right there in my contacts. Passcode is 1201 - it's Aniyah's birthday."
I tapped Tom's phone, unlocking it and scrolling past the picture of his adorable little girl Aniyah, and his wife Robyn who I'd met a few times at Global holiday parties over the years, and found his contact list - clicking Spencer's name and putting the phone to my ear.
It rang. And rang. And rang again.
"Hello--
"Spencer!" I interrupted
"--you've reached Spencer Haywood. Unfortunately, I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message."
Damn it. His voicemail never failed to trick me every time.
"Spence, it's me, where are you?" I questioned, "Look, I've left my phone at home, but I came to the Global office with tea, we must have just missed each other. I'm gonna come back now, though, so stay in one place, alright? See you soon."
I shook my head at Tom, "What the hell did we all do before cellphones, eh?"
Tom chuckled, "Tell me about it!"
Suddenly, the phone began to vibrate in my hand, flashing Spencer's name across the screen. What a relief! He'd probably just made it home, the traffic was insane today, curling around for blocks as I walked here.
Accepting the call, I put the phone back to my ear again, "Spence, where've you been?"
"H--h--hello?"
I paused, the voice stopping me in my tracks. That certainly wasn't Spencer. Not unless he'd suddenly turned into a woman with a voice that sounded like a Kardashian.
"Who is this?" I questioned, "And what are you doing calling from my husband's phone?"
What the hell was going on?
Tom frowned, a perplexed look on his face which probably mirrored my own expression.
The person on the end of the phone sighed, in what seemed like relief, but I wanted answers - who was this woman calling from Spencer's phone and where was he?
"Mrs Haywood, that's you?" the voice responded, "We've been trying to get a hold of you, but your phone has been ringing and then going to voicemail."
"Who's we?" I asked, my patience wearing thin, "Look, can I speak to Spencer, please? Is he nearby? Do you work at The Global? Can you hand me over?"
"Mrs Haywood, this is Hope Wallace, I'm a trauma surgeon at New York-Presbyterian, and I--"
"Trauma surgeon?" I cut her off, "Trauma surgeon? What the hell are you talking about, trauma surgeon?"
Tom's face read alarm, he was mouthing something to me, but I couldn't pay attention. The voice on the other end of the phone, this, this, 'Hope Wallace' had me hooked.
"You're down in his phone as an emergency contact...Mrs Haywood," she said, and the tone in her voice began to unsettle me, "I'm afraid your husband, Spencer Haywood, he...he was involved in a major car accident this afternoon just off 65th Street and--"
Ice chilled my blood. Time slowed. It felt as if the synapses in my brain were wading through treacle. Spencer...car accident...65th Street...that was only a few blocks from here...
No. That didn't make any sense. Because he was here, he was home, I'd just missed him, I'd left my phone at home, that was all...
"--Mrs Haywood, it was a serious collision, our paramedics were able to wrangle him from the wreckage, but he's lost a lot of blood and there are some extensive injuries. My team is doing everything they can at present. But I think you'll need to get here as quickly and as safely as you can."
"No..." I said, my voice barely coming out as a whisper, "There...there...must be some kind of mistake...Spencer...he--he was just here - he was just here and we're going to have tea in Central Park...I've...I've got the cups right here...I got him a muffin, chocolate...it's...his favorite..."
She sighed, "Mrs Haywood, I am so sorry to have to break this news to you over the phone. I can hear you're in shock. But we need to make some important decisions about your husband's condition, and as his next of kin, we'd very much like you to be here when we do."
Emotion balled in my throat as my hands shook, "Okay..."
In my subconscious I could feel myself paralysed, feel the cup holder slip out of my hand, feel the hot liquid pouring over my shoes...but I was powerless, impotent to do anything about it.
Spencer.
*****************************************************************************
[Author's Note]
Well, that took a turn...
With Spencer's life hanging in the balance, what is next for the couple?
What did you think of this chapter?
Cliffhangers put me in such a bind! But I'm ready to write the next chapter and eventually bring this novel to a close soon.
I hope you are keeping well, and, as always, I appreciate your support!
Until next time,
- Bex. 'xo