Once again, she eyes my hand and asks, “Why?”
This time, though, I don’t answer her like I did before. Instead, I tell her the truth. “Because you look absolutely breathtaking tonight and I enjoyed our last dance. I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening than on the dance floor with you.”
She appears stunned by my words, but doesn’t argue. Instead she stands and takes my hand. I lead her out onto the dance floor, where I spend the next hour—with Giselle in my arms as we sway to the music.
The evening comes to a close, and after saying goodbye to Olivia and Nick, we step outside. My driver circles around to pick us up, and once we’re in the car, he asks where we’re headed.
“Brooklyn Heights, please,” I say.
“Actually, if you could please drop me off at the subway station that would be great.” Giselle glances down at her phone. “Grand Central off 42nd Street.” That’s when I notice she has a duffle bag with her. She must’ve brought it with her when I picked her up, but I was too in shock over learning she was my date, I didn’t notice.
“We can drop you off at home,” I insist. I know she got upset over the silent auction and some of the stuff I said, but after I apologized we seemed to have an okay time.
“I’m not going home.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the subway station.”
The driver glances back at me and I shake my head.
“I saw that!” Giselle hisses. “What are you going to do, keep me hostage in your dumb limo?”
“Damn, first my Bugatti is stupid and ugly and now my limo is dumb? What have my vehicles ever done to you?” I laugh, and Giselle growls. “Tell me where you’re going,” I insist.
“To my mom’s! And if you take me to Brooklyn, it will only make my trip longer.”
“Leo,” I say to my driver.
“Sir?”
“There’s been a change of plans. Please stay here for a moment.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Killian, I don’t need you to take me. I can take myself,” Giselle says, but I ignore her, stepping out of the vehicle. I dial Nick’s number and he answers on the second ring.
“Did you drive here?”
“I did.”
“Perfect, I need to borrow your car. I’ll tell my driver to wait here for you.”
“Okay, just let the valet know.”
“Thanks, man.”
We hang up, and I let my driver know the change in plans. Then I have the valet bring around Nick’s car. After arguing with Giselle for a good five minutes, I convince her to get in the car and then we’re on our way to Rye, where her mom lives. It’s a good forty-five minute drive, but I make it in close to thirty.
“Thank you,” Giselle says. “You can go ahead and go. I’m spending the night.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shocks me when she leans over and gives me a kiss on my cheek. “Despite the rocky start, I had a good time.” She grabs her bag from the backseat and gets out of the car. As I wait for her to get safely inside, I check a couple text messages that came through while I was driving. I’m about to back out when the door swings back open, and she comes running out.
“Killian, my phone is dead! Call 911 now!” She runs back inside without waiting for me, and I follow her in, doing as she said. When the operator answers and asks what the emergency is, I’m not sure what to say. And then I see her. Giselle’s mom lying on the bathroom floor with empty pill bottles surrounding her.
“We need an ambulance. Someone has overdosed on prescription drugs.” I tell her the address then hang up. Giselle’s holding her mom in her arms and rocking her back and forth, begging her to wake up. She’s completely still.
I google what to do when someone overdoses. Every website says to call for help and to make sure the person’s airway isn’t blocked. “Open her mouth and turn her face to the side in case she chokes,” I tell her. She does what I say and then continues to rock her mom while begging her to wake up.
Finally the paramedics arrive and take Giselle’s mom out of her arms. Tears of devastation and fear are dripping down her cheeks as she quickly answers their questions. I gather up the pill bottles and hand them to them, and then they’re leaving with her mom on a gurney.
“Let’s go,” I say to Giselle who is standing still in the driveway watching the ambulance leave.
“This is all my fault.” Her voice is so soft, I almost don’t hear her.
“Giselle, c’mon, we need to get to the hospital. I doubt it’s your fault, but right now it really doesn’t matter.”
When she doesn’t move, I walk around in front of her. Her cheeks are stained from her tears, and she looks almost as lifeless as her mom.