Chapter 19 Aftermath

Chapter 19 Aftermath

Lily's POV

The emergency room was chaos. Doctors, nurses and police officers shouting over one another. They just took Aiden away straight away and a nurse wouldn't even let me go.
"You can't go back there yet. Are you family?"

"I'm his—" I stopped.

"I need you to wait here. Someone will update you soon."

I sat down in a plastic chair, my hands still slippery with Aiden's blood. I looked at them, at the red on my hands. This was my fault. Victoria had followed ASTER and Aiden had stepped in the way of a weapon.

He could have been killed.

My hands started shaking. Then my whole body. A blanket was tucked around my shoulders by someone I hardly even registered.

"Miss Monroe?" A doctor approached. "Mr. Cole is asking for you."

I stepped through the double doors behind him. Aiden was in a treatment room with his shoulder bandaged. He looked pale but alive.

"Lily." He held out his arms, and I ran to them.

"You're okay," I breathed. "You're okay."

“Twenty stitches and a tetanus shot. I'll live." He held me tight. "Are you hurt?"

"No. You stopped her." I pulled back to look at him. "You idiot. You could have died."
"But I didn't. We're both okay."

We had our statements taken by a police officer. Victoria was transported to County Psychiatric Hospital for observation. They’d serve us both restraining orders.

After the police left, a nurse told him Aiden could go home but that he needed to rest. He received pain medication and was told how to care for the caterpillar injury.

We were packing up his stuff when Eleanor was wheeled in, looking frail but alert. Her stare went straight to Aiden's bandaged shoulder.

"Oh my God. Aiden." Tears filled her eyes. "They told me what happened. You were hurt, trying to save Lily.”

"I'm fine, Mom."

"You're not fine. You were stabbed!" She looked at me. "And you. Are you hurt?"

I shook my head.

Eleanor put her hand into mine. "I'm so sorry. I was blind. Victoria approached me, made me believe she was different. But she was using me. By shafting Aiden to force you two apart.
"Mrs. Cole—"

"Eleanor. Please." She squeezed my hand. "I was wrong about you. Victoria told me lies. But I see now. The way you look at my son. That's real. That's love."

New tears ran down my face. "I do love him."

"I know. And I ought to have seen it long before. She turned to Aiden. "Your father was a monster. When Victoria walked through my door, polished and sophisticated in every way, I was reminded of the life I had lost. I was hoping she could bring you some stability.”

"I don't need stability, Mom. I need happiness. And Lily makes me happy."

"I see that now." Eleanor looked between us. I'm asking both of you to forgive me. For being blind. For almost destroying something beautiful."

I knelt beside her wheelchair. "There's nothing to forgive. “Victoria is so manipulative.

“But I’m your mother,” she told Aiden. "I should have protected you."

"You didn't know, Mom. We all didn’t realize quite how gone she was.”

Eleanor reached for a limp hug and pulled me in. "Welcome to the family, Lily. Truly welcome."

When Eleanor had gone, we returned to Aiden’s penthouse. Security had been tripled. I helped a finger into the button of Aiden’s jacket, mindful of his shoulder.

“Sorry,” I murmured and he flinched.

"Not your fault."

"It is. I guess I should have let you know where the hell I was going.”

"We're not doing this. Not blaming ourselves." He cupped my face. "We're both okay. That's what matters."

But I could not stop thinking about how near we’d been. How just another inch and that glass would have killed him.

"I should wash off," I said, staring once more at my crimson fingers.

"Come with me."

He led me to his bathroom with the shower running there already. Steam filled the space. I would take his clothes off, and I undressed him here, she told him.

The water was hot. It was Aiden then me. The blood disappeared, swirling pink down the drain. I found soap and washed his chest, one good shoulder, his back.
"Your turn," he said softly.

He soaped me up with just a hand, leisurely. Not sexual, just intimate. Connected. As he shampooed my hair, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be taken care of.

We stood under the spray for a long time, clutching one another. I turned off the water, and we dried. I worked him into baggy sweatpants.

We lay next to each other in his bedroom. I snuggled gratefully into his undamaged side, and let my hand lie on him. His heartbeat was steady, strong. Alive.

“I thought I dreamed losing you,” I whispered. “I saw the glass coming at me, and when you ducked —”

"Shh. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He tipped my chin up and kissed me. Soft and sweet.

The kiss deepened slowly. He traced his hand down my back and pulled me closer. I felt him hardening against my hip.

"Aiden, you're hurt—"

"I don't care. I need you. Need to feel alive."

I understood. After dancing so close to that death, we both deserved this. Needed to feel once more that we were here, we were alive and we were together.
I kissed him, more careful of his shoulder this time. My hand slithered down his tummy and into his sweatpants. He grimaced as I closed my hand around him.

"Lily—"

"Let me take care of you."

I saw that I must work him up to that. Once he was rock solid, I took off my panties and slowly lowered myself onto him.

"Don't move," I said. "Let me do the work."

I straddled him and rode him down. We both gasped. I began to thrust, softly and cautiously. His good hand gripped my hip.

“You feel so good God,” he gasped.

I kissed him, pressed down and steady. This was not a race to the finish. This was about connection. About being together.

His hand rocked into me, caressing me. I moaned against his lips.

"That's it," he murmured. "Take what you need."

I made my way quickly, pursuing the pleasure. I didn't dare look Aiden in the eye.

"I love you," I gasped. "I love you so much."

"I love you too. More than anything."

The sensation peaked and I orgasmed, screaming his name. He followed seconds later, dragging me to him. We remained connected, pressing our foreheads together.

After I finally got off of him, I curled against his good side again. Patterns were made on my shoulder with his fingers.

"That was perfect," I whispered.

We lay, silent but comfortable in the sharing of our silence. Outside, the sun was setting. It was a moment to be savored, after the chaos and fear of the day.

"What happens now?" I asked quietly.

"Now we heal. We move forward. We are creating the life we want together.”

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He kissed my head. "Victoria's gone. She can't hurt us anymore. And my mother blessed us. Nothing is going to stop us.”

"I want to believe that."

"Trust me. Trust us." His eyes were serious. “I know the last few weeks have been insane. But that's over now. We’re on our own from here out, you and me. Building something real."

"Okay," I whispered. "I trust us."

We were in bed the rest of the evening, talking about this and that. Aiden shared stories of his childhood, how he began the business with nothing. I told him about what it had been like to grow up in Ohio, about finding art and then years of struggle.

We ordered takeout and stayed in bed. We watched old movies. We laughed, kissed and simply existed together.

It’s been the first time walking on this Earth and knowing Aiden Cole that I felt like there just might be hope for us yet. The drama was behind us. Victoria was gone. Eleanor had blessed us. There was nothing else between us any longer.

Nothing except our own fears. But we’d work on those together.

Falling asleep that night in his arms, I felt hopeful. Ever so hopeful about the future.
A week later, my phone rang from a strange New York number. I nearly didn’t pick up, but something made me answer.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Monroe? This is Catherine Rothschild of the Rothschild Gallery in New York.
My heart started pounding. One of the most prestigious well-known was Rothschild Gallery. Getting shown there could kindle a career.
"Yes, this is Lily Monroe."

“I have some fantastic news. We’d love to showcase your work in our spring exhibition. Less than that, but greater than: We’re giving you a six-month artist residency. Studio space, materials and a stipend. All expenses paid."

I couldn't breathe. "That's amazing. I don't know what to say."

"Say yes. This is career-changing, Ms. Monroe. But I should say, the residency would require moving to New York and living there for six months. It starts in two weeks."

My excitement crashed. "Two weeks? And I’d have to go to New York?’ ”

"Yes. I know it's short notice. A nameless benefactor asked for you. They're covering all costs."

“May I know who the benefactor is?”

I don’t think I can tell you that information.” "But they think you are really smart.”

We chatted for a few minutes about logistics. When I put the phone down, I stayed there, looking at my phone.

It was all I had ever wanted. Recognition from a major gallery. A residency program. Financial support. International exposure.

But then it would mean leaving Aiden. Leaving Chicago. Leaving everything we’d only begun to build.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and Aiden walked in, his shoulder on the mend.

"Who was that?" he asked.

I looked up at him. “The Rothschild Gallery in New York. They would like to host my work, and give me a six-month residency.”

His face lit up. "Lily, that's incredible! That's huge!"

"Yeah. It is." I paused. “But it would involve going to New York. For six months. Starting in two weeks."
His smile faded slightly. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." I took his hand. "What do I do, Aiden? It could be everything for my career. But it would be to leave you, just when what we have is finally something stable.”

He fell silent for many seconds. Then he said something that made my heart feel both lifted and broken.