Margaritas were easy enough. I could do margaritas.
The first thing I saw when I walked back into the living room was tall boots leaning against the couch. She glanced up at the sound of my footsteps. “You really made margaritas, with salt, no less. I was teasing—you really didn’t need to. Thanks, though. Kids good?”
“Yeah,” I said, absorbing the sight. Her feet were curled under her ass, and she had a Patagonia catalog open on her lap, killing time. “Sorry, fresh out of Cosmo and Vogue. If you dig deep, you might be able to find one of Maxine’s princess books.”
“Oh no, I was looking at these hiking boots. Mine are pretty beat up.”
My eyes bugged. She was messing with me. Two could play that game. “The ramps at Yankee Stadium are pretty steep, a shoe with a solid grip’s not a bad idea.” She hiked, my ass. I smirked, envisioning JuJu from the Bronx lacing up a pair of drifters over her skinny jeans. What was it with women? Britt gave up pretending to like anything remotely outdoorsy the second I slid a rock on her finger. Yeah, not going there.
That same dumbfounded look she had with the GoodFellas line spread across her face. Instead of butchering my joke, I gave her an out. “Where do you hike?”
“Depends on how much time I have and the season, but anywhere along the Appalachian Trail has amazing views of the Hudson Valley. And I love Adirondack Park; I’ve done several of the 46 high peaks, but haven’t made it to Mount Marcy up in Lake Placid yet. Casey and I have it on our bucket list.”
If my eyes bulged any further, I was at risk of looking like I had Graves’ disease. She blew my mind. Officially blown. Half the shit that came out of her mouth shocked the hell out of me; the other half had me laughing my ass off. Maybe it was an act; maybe it wasn’t, but right now, who cared?
“Cool,” I said, because the other option would have been foaming at the mouth, tackling her down, and professing my undying love. Not really, but the thought of her enjoying hiking as much as I did was a serious turn on. I was knee-deep in trails every chance I had back home. Pre-residency, pre-marriage, pre-kids, pre-widower. A lifetime ago.
“You ever take the kids? They’d love it. There are plenty of easy trails I’m sure Finn could handle, but even if he got tired, I’ve seen kids much bigger than him in backpack carriers. And I bet they’d get a kick out of Casey.”
She was spot on again—my kids would totally tear it up. They took after me when it came to downtime. I contemplated how we hadn’t notched out some time to get up north yet, wondering if Jules’ comment was an invitation. I couldn’t see past the next five minutes. Did she already have us on a date with the kids and whoever the hell Casey was?
“Casey?”
“Sorry, he’s my yellow Lab.”
Good to know she wasn’t inviting Hair Gel on a family date.
“You live in an apartment and have a full size Lab? It’s not a little tight?”
She flipped the catalog closed, indignant. “You’re seven foot five and live in an apartment. It’s not a little tight?” There she went again with her ridiculous hand motions, this time bringing her palms an inch apart mimicking a tight space.
“Touché.” Smart ass. “You’re about a foot off, and yeah, it gets tight.”
Jules giggled and something about the sound redirected blood flow south. Speaking of south, I said, “So I take it you’ve decided to forgive me for being a dick.”
“I never said that.”
“You always make future dates with dicks?”
Her face immediately flushed. Caught.
“So … six Oscar nominations, huh, better not disappoint.” She redirected the conversation while snagging the blanket off the back of the couch, covering her legs, and outstretching her hand. “And give me my drink.”
“Bossy,” I mumbled loud enough for her to hear. Flushed and demanding, now this I could work with. I handed off the margarita before tagging the remote and firing up Netflix.
She liked me.
And in not so many words, she secured our next date. Not wanting to think too hard about it, I settled on the oversized couch, pulled her into my side, and got comfortable. Wasn’t difficult, she melted right in. It was time to test the waters.
“You’re staring at me,” she whispered, seemingly engrossed in the film. “Thought this
was your favorite movie.”
The outline of her cherry lips were pleading with me and suddenly I was hungry. “Never said favorite. Classic. And I’ve seen it a hundred times. I know what’s gonna happen. But right now I’m more interested in what’s gonna happen”—I tipped her chin and brought our lips millimeters apart—“after this.”
“Wait.” Her index finger slipped between our lips.
Damn, I could have sworn she was on the same page. The sexual tension had been suffocating. Shit, I was seriously rusty.
“Um. It’s just I should have said this earlier … days ago, actually. I don’t know why I didn’t and I’m really so embarrassed. But then there was never a good time. Not that anytime is a good time. Trust me, I know. Probably better than anyone …”
“You’re rambling, doll.”
“I’m really sorry about your wife. So incredibly sorry.”
Talk about left field and epically bad timing. She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow, sincerity oozing from every pore. Did she really bring up Britt … now? The mention of her name probably should have elicited pain or guilt, or at the very least, killed the mood. Not even close. She was such an enigma and so fucking adorable, I wanted to kiss her even more.
Her finger was still against my lips when I said, “Okay. That is totally not what I thought you were going to say.”
“If you want to talk about it …”
I shook my head slowly, hoping I wouldn’t offend her. But I had to be honest. “Not even a little bit.” Especially now.
“Okay, if you ever do, just know I’m a good listener.” She dropped her intruding hand and her caramel eyes melted. “Why don’t you kiss me then.”
My fucking pleasure.
This was the best idea she had all night.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth, while the tip of her pink tongue wet the seam of her lips. The smell of tequila and lime mixed with apples, a dangerously delicious combination, skyrocketed my hunger to insatiable levels. A small moan slipped from somewhere deep in her throat and it was all I needed. I closed the distance and claimed her. My pulse pounded in my ears. She tasted unfuckingbelievable. I parted my lips, urging her on, and to my surprise, she matched me movement for movement. Sweet Jesus, this woman could kiss. I clutched the nape of her neck, tangling my fingers in her silk hair and coaxed her closer. If I deepened the kiss any more, she’d be in my lap, right where I wanted her, straddling my growing ache. The only thing in my way was the stupid blanket and her jeans and her—
“Let me,” she mumbled, sliding her hands up my chest, confirming she wanted closer too.
I tore the damn throw off her legs and gripped her thighs, pulling her warm core against mine. The sound of clinking glass echoed off the hardwood floor. Spilled milk, spilled margarita—who the fuck cared? It would take an atomic bomb to pry me away from her sweet taste or the gut wrenching sound of … retching.
Several seconds passed for my brain to interpret the noise echoing through the apartment, being that my entire blood volume was currently engorging my other brain. I pulled back, breaking our connection and leaving us both panting and bothered. The vile sound amplified and my instincts extinguished my burning desire.
Without hesitation, I was off the couch and running. Jules’ footsteps trailed mine.
“I’ll grab a pail and some water,” she said, turning toward the kitchen.
“Hey, bud, Daddy’s here.” I chucked his vomit-drenched sheets aside and picked up my boy so he could breathe easier. He was heaving so hard he wasn’t even crying. Another wave exploded onto the floor, breaking my heart and making me feel even more useless. “Shh, breathe, buddy. It’ll be okay.”
Always Finn. It wasn’t fair.
“Here, handsome, try and take a little sip.” Jules calmly stepped over the foul puddle, sat beside us, and rubbed Finn’s sweaty back. Before he sipped from the straw Jules held in front of him, the vicious cycle began again.
“Shit.” I tried my best to curb my swearing in front of the kids, but this qualified as an Oh Shit moment.
Jules’ concerned gaze agreed with mine. When Finn gasped for oxygen after emptying the last of the bile that could be left, I didn’t have to say a word.
Jules said, “I’ll grab Max. Let’s go.”
Yeah, we were on the same page.
“Ewwww! Finny’s getting sick again, Daaadddyyy,” Max cried.
Wedged in the back of a cab driving a hundred miles per hour didn’t stop Finn’s body from convulsing each and every time he heaved. There was nothing but bile left. I’d seen a lot of sick kids, really sick kids, over the years, but I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever seen a little one retch this violently with barely a moment in between cycles. I rubbed his back and held a towel under his mouth as Guy barked at the cab driver to drive faster. Finally, a few tears were leaking down his cheeks and he was whimpering.
Thank God.
When we found him slouched over in his bed, he had been struggling to breathe, using every single one of his accessory muscles. This seemed more intense than a random twenty-four hour bug. Guy’s panicked eyes told me he felt the same.
“Max, it’s okay. Finn’s tummy is a little upset,” I said, feebly attempting to calm Max who was scared and probably disoriented from being dragged out of her warm bed into the freezing cold in the middle of the night. Who was I kidding—I was saying it to calm myself as well.
The cab finally stopped, and Guy threw open the door and gingerly scooped Finn from my lap. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you.”
My eyes welled and my heart ached for them, for this situation. In his short life, Finn had already been through enough. This sweet boy deserved a slice of easy with a side of luck. At the very least, he deserved to have his mom by his side to help fight his battles.
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I said, “I’ve got the cab and Max. Go.”
Guy jerked his chin and took off towards the ER entrance.
I wadded up the vomit-drenched towel and tied it off in a plastic bag I dug out of my purse before paying the driver. Max was shivering, and I could feel her pressing deeper into my side. I swung her on my hip and kicked the cab door closed. “Hold tight, Maxie girl.”
“Max,” she whispered back. Right, Max.
She wrapped her little legs around my waist, clinging for dear life. Even in the midst of what was going on, she was adamant. Even though I could have sworn that I’d slipped earlier in the evening, I loved how her Finny was the only one with free rein to use nicknames.
“Oh, sorry, honey, that’s what I meant.”
A burst of warm air blasted us in the face as we rushed through the automatic doors. The combination of nerves, adrenaline, and the alcohol from earlier, mixed with the heat, caused a wave of nausea to roll through me. Max hid her head in my neck, and I squinted against the blinding lights.
“Where are they?” I asked the approaching triage nurse before she had a chance to say anything.
“Bay four.” She didn’t even try to hide her suspicious elevated brow when she saw me carrying Dr. Hunter’s daughter—in the middle of the night, in her pajamas. Fortunately, she held her tongue. Tomorrow would be another story, and no doubt her reality TV rendition would go viral. “Want me to take Maxine?”
“No,” Max yelped and clung tighter.
“Give us a minute,” I said to Margaret.
“No problem. I’m going to find some coloring books and crayons, and I’ll meet you back here in a few.”
“Hear that, Max? You can color.” I kissed the top of her head. She unburied her face from my shoulder and peeked up at me, still squinting. I was sure she was hoping if she squeezed her lids tight enough she’d wake up from this nightmare.
I’ve tried that myself, sweetheart. God, I wish it worked.
We stopped at bay four and all seemed quiet. I peered around the curtain and saw Guy lying on the stretcher with Finn curled up on his lap. His nurse was securing the Ace wrap around his IV, and for some unknown reason, jealousy consumed me. He was limp and lethargic, and I was overcome with a familiar surge of protectiveness. I hated seeing him so helpless. I would have given anything to see him in the throes of a full-out temper tantrum. This version of boneless was all wrong.
Swallowing back my sadness, I was grateful they didn’t have to wait to get situated. A small perk of being on staff.
Max wiggled free from my arms and went to the edge of the bed to rub her brother’s leg. “Finny, you okay?”
Guy’s frame was rigid and the muscles in his neck were taut as he cocked his head to watch his son’s eyes flutter open and closed. Finn was pale, and the skin around his normally sparkly blues was grey and sunken. He was no longer gasping for air, but his breathing was quick and shallow. I prayed the worst was over.
Or not.
From my spot across his room, I saw the telltale abdominal spasms. Shit, I knew what was coming. I lunged for the basin just in time. Finn started gagging, and Guy looked like he was about to lose his calm, or should I say the calm he was faking for his son’s sake.
“Fuuu … get her out of here. And he needs the goddamn antiemetic. NOW.”
Take that back, he lost it. His face was a mixture of frustration and fear as he hoisted Finn upright to avoid him choking.
Max’s crying added to the commotion consuming the small room. Guy’s outburst had everyone running. Margaret ushered Max out, whispering about crafts and snacks, while another nurse swapped out Finn’s basin and traded clean towels. Jill finally surfaced holding the IV meds.
I sat on the bed and pushed Finn’s curls off his forehead. “Deep breath, handsome. The medicine will make you feel better.”
His dry heaves slowly subsided, but the tension radiating off of Guy was wound to the breaking point. Jill hung the Zofran and gave Finn a little sweep across his cheek. Then she turned toward me and raised her brow. I was done with the elevated brow and returned with my own not now head shake. I patted Guy’s arm to grab his attention. “I’m going to call upstairs and get Finn a PICU bed.”
Jill squinted her eyes in question, and I coaxed her to follow me out of the room. I filled her in while I made the call. I knew the census was down, so there were plenty of beds. Finn would be more comfortable upstairs, and there was plenty of room for a cot for Max so she could close her eyes for a few hours. I might have been overstepping my bounds, but Guy had more than enough to worry about right now.
“Jules.” His rough voice called for me. I stopped and pulled the curtain back to meet his piercing stare. Finn had already shrunk back into his chest. “Go home—you don’t need to stay. I have this.”
I didn’t doubt him for a second, but I wondered how many times he had to have this all alone over the years?
“I want to stay.”
Because I did. What I couldn’t explain was why I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Despite the Zofran and IV hydration, Finn’s vicious vomiting cycle continued until sunrise. The working diagnosis was acute gastroenteritis. It was probably the most severe case I had ever encountered. Fortunately, his abdomen was non-tender, and he never spiked a fever or developed an elevated white count. Just to be safe, he had an abdominal X-ray that ruled out a bowel obstruction or perforation. All in all, it could have been worse, but to say the least, it was a very long night.
I glanced over at Maxie who was crashed on the roll-away cot and then back to Finn and Guy who were finally both asleep together on the hospital bed. I shrugged the thin white blanket up over my shoulders and rested my head against the recliner. For the first time all night, I let my body relax, never expecting the extreme level of exhaustion to reach my bones.
I was used to working nights. It was normal for me to have little sleep and a handful of sick kids to deal with. But somehow this was different. It felt different. I felt different.
If nothing came of our relationship, if that was even an appropriate label for what was happening between us, I knew I cared for these kids more than I should.
If I was really being honest, I cared for their father way more than I should as well.
Damn it, how had I let this happen? I wasn’t ready for this and I probably never would be. These kinds of feelings needed more than a barren pulsating muscle to grow and flourish; my heart wasn’t capable.
I was in a trance staring at the clock’s second hand, when I heard Guy’s raspy voice whisper, “Hey.”
It was a few minutes past five—he couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour. “Awake already?”
“Not exactly the Ritz.”
I smiled. My funny guy was back. Shit, my? One kiss and temporary amnesia set in, erasing seven years of a numbing static, even though my brain was doing backflips and logging it as the best first kiss of all my first kisses. Frazzled, I tried to be funnier. “Ah, the Ritz is overrated. You really need to stop slumming it.”
He weaseled his way out from under Finn’s sleeping form and leaned against the wall by my chair. “I’m sorry about last night, wasn’t exactly—”
“Please don’t apologize, like you had any control over Finn getting sick.”
“I know, but …”
“No buts. The only thing that matters is that Finn is stable and seems to have turned the corner.”
“Thanks for staying. You didn’t need to. It was your night off.”
“What else could a girl ask for? After all, I had some great Mexican food and a margarita.”
“Think my hardwood floor got most of the margarita.”
“Right.” Because what else was I going to say? Heat hit my cheeks almost immediately, remembering how it spilled and knowing he was doing the same. Our heavy breathing and my erratic heartbeat had practically silenced the tink of glass hitting the floor.
“I’m sure you’re jonesing for a second date after I wine and dine ya at a dive, force you to watch a movie from 1990, and end the night splattered in my son’s vomit.” He unstuck the hair from my cheek (changing them from pink to red because that’s attractive, ugh) and kissed my temple. I wanted to tell him it was a perfect night and I was happy I was here to help, but not only was I battling embarrassment, I was distracted by the pounding in my chest making its way back up to my ears. He was coming for my lips.
Abruption Page 7