by MJ Duncan
“Oh my God,” Bryn muttered.
Anna shot Di a playful glare. “You suck!”
Di laughed and waved her off. “Love ya!”
Anna rolled her eyes and looked back at Bryn, her expression softening as she nuzzled Bryn’s cheek. “If it makes you feel better, she teases because she cares.”
“Great.”
Anna chuckled and brushed a quick kiss over Bryn’s lips.
“Knock it off, you two.” Di looped her arms around Anna and Bryn’s waists as the music shifted back to something more up-tempo. “You’re freaking adorable, but you’re making the rest of us look bad.”
“Then you should step up your game, Chang,” Anna said, smiling at Bryn.
Di laughed. “Is that a challenge?”
“Hey!” Mitch called out as he led Erica out onto the dance floor. “Smooth moves, Bryn!” He grinned. “You guys wanna do the electric slide?”
Anna laughed and pressed her lips to Bryn’s ear. “Thank Kendall for teaching him that one next time you talk to her.”
“I will,” Bryn chuckled.
“Let’s do it,” Di said, releasing her hold on Anna and Bryn. She grinned and snapped off a sharp salute to Mitch. “After you, Cap.”
“Come on,” Anna said, tugging at Bryn’s waist as she moved to get in line next to her friends.
Bryn shook her head as she took her place beside Anna, and could not contain her smile as she reached for her hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Anna asked, giving her hand a squeeze. “Dragging you to my work event, in costume no less, and having Di embarrass us before Mitch turned into a total dork and got us to agree to start line dancing?”
For someone who had spent the majority of her life on the sidelines, watching other people do stuff like this while she wished that she could figure out how, Anna’s summary of their evening could not have been more perfect for all of the things she was feeling. “Yes.”
“Oh, well.” Anna’s eyes were understanding and her smile warm as she leaned over to kiss Bryn’s cheek. “You’re welcome.”
“Avengers, assemble!” Mitch shouted, drawing everyone’s attention as he led them into the dance.
Bryn laughed with Anna as they copied Mitch’s lead, her heart full to bursting when Anna’s hand finally slipped from her own as they step-turned for the next part of the dance.
Forty-Six
A heavy feeling of foreboding settled in Bryn’s chest as she looked out the window of the cab at the familiar shape of the Boston skyline. She had not planned on returning so soon—she was not scheduled to make this trip for another three weeks for the end-of-year December meetings with the firm—but an unexpected phone call twelve hours earlier had thrown her otherwise ordinary Tuesday morning completely off course.
She had been in the middle of grooming Morgana after a long ride around her property, discussing with Eva the winterization projects for the barn that still needed to be completed before the weather turned when her phone rang. It was her mother.
“Your father had a heart attack. He’s in surgery now. You need to come home.”
Never in her life had Bryn heard her mother so frightened, and the feeling of dread in her stomach grew as she remembered the way her mother had answered every one of her questions with the same quiet answer.
“I don’t know.”
She had eventually given up pushing for more information about her father’s situation and just promised to get there as soon as she could. She had all but thrown the curry comb she had been using at Eva as she told her what happened, and then raced home to pack a bag. The drive from Spectrum to the airport in Portland was a hazy blur, and she was still surprised that she had managed the trek safely.
She spent the hour-long drive into the city making sure that things at home would be taken care of while she was away. Her first call was to Gerald, to let him know that she would be out of town and probably unreachable for the next few days. He assured her that he would take care of everything, and that if there was a problem he would leave her a message and wait for her to get back to him. Just knowing that Spectrum would be taken care of in her absence made her feel a little bit better, and she thanked him profusely for his help before finally disconnecting the call. Her next call had been to Kendall, who had been appropriately shocked at the news and concerned about what Bryn was going to be faced with when she landed. It was comforting to be able to vent her worries and fears and frustrations about her trip to somebody who was intimately familiar with her family situation, and Kendall had made her promise to call if she needed anything before they hung up.
She had saved Anna for last to have as much time with her as possible, but she remembered when her call went straight to voicemail that Anna would be in surgery all day. She still felt incredibly guilty about how relieved she had been to be able to just leave a message. She knew that Anna would have offered to make the trip with her, and this way she did not have to tell her that she preferred to go alone. She could not be who she needed to be in Boston if Anna was there, providing the support she had come to rely on so heavily. She would want to lean on her, would want to disappear into the warmth of her embrace as she dealt with her parents, and then the shit would hit the proverbial fan and she would be faced with an entirely new set of problems.
Her layover in Minneapolis had been just long enough to dart into a shop to grab a bottle of water and a protein bar before jumping onto her connecting flight, and when she landed in Boston, she was glad that she had eaten nothing more than that all day as her stomach twisted with concern and more than a little dread.
Trips to Boston always took their emotional toll on her, and this one was going to be especially brutal.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Bryn sighed as she saw that it was another message from Anna, wondering if she had landed in Boston yet and if she was okay. The guilt that had traveled across the country with her flared as she put the phone back in her purse without responding. She wanted Anna’s support, but she had spent the day preparing herself for what she was about to walk into, and she could not let her walls down now.
She needed to be strong, and Anna made her weak.
Anna made her feel happy and cherished and so many other wonderful things, but the smiling, laughing, playful woman she was in Washington did not belong in Boston. Washington was softness and warmth and acceptance where Boston was cold, hard, and unforgiving, and she knew that needed to be her old, ruthless self to get through these next few days.
So, no. She could not allow herself the comfort of Anna’s voice. Later, after she had seen her father, handled her mother, and dealt with the situation, she would allow herself a few moments weakness—but not yet.
The hospital came into view a few moments later, the glass and steel façade an architectural promise of competence and state-of-the-art technology, and she sighed as the driver pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance.
After more than twelve hours and twenty-six hundred miles traveled, she could finally stop worrying about what might happen and instead just deal with everything as best she could. It was strangely comforting to know that imagination could finally give way to reality—no matter how harsh that reality would undoubtedly be.
She paid her fare with a swipe of her credit card, and smiled her thanks to the driver as he met her on the sidewalk with the small carry-on bag she had brought with her. She stared at the sign above the main doors to the hospital as the cabbie drove off, taking these last few moments of solitude to finish gathering her bearings.
The lights inside the main lobby had been dimmed to account for the time of day, and Bryn kept her voice low as she inquired about her father’s location at the front desk since her mother had not known where they would end up once his surgery was finished.
The elderly volunteer working the desk—a woman with steely blue-gray hair whose name tag identified her as Ethel—was surprisingly efficient with the computer. She checked Bryn’s driver�
��s license to confirm her identity, and then printed out a visitor’s pass as she looked up her father’s room information. Less than ten minutes after Bryn walked through the front doors of the hospital, she was in the elevator that would take her up to the Cardiac Surgical Intensive Care Unit.
Time, which had seemed to move at a crawl all day, began to race forward as she entered the CSICU, fear and obligation roiling in her stomach as she approached the nurse’s station. The large, square desk sat smack in the middle of the ward, surrounded by sixteen sets of large sliding glass doors that gave each room a sense of privacy while providing none. The ward was quiet, the air thick with hope and fear and the looming specter of Death, and Bryn cringed at how loud her boots sounded on the pristine linoleum floor.
“May I help you?” The nurse, an older woman with blond hair and kind brown eyes asked.
Bryn nodded and ran a hand through her hair as her eyes dropped to the nurse’s name tag. Samantha. It was ridiculous, but just knowing the woman’s name made her feel more grounded. “I’m looking for my father, Nathan Nakamura?”
“Of course.” Samantha pointed at a closed door to Bryn’s left. “He’s in room two.”
“Thank you,” Bryn murmured. She glanced over her shoulder at the indicated room. The lights inside were off except for a single bulb above the sink, and she had no problem making out the shape of her father in the bed and her mother in a chair beside it. “How long do you expect him to remain in the ICU?”
“That depends on his doctor,” Samantha said kindly. “But it’s not unusual for angioplasty patients to move to the Step Down Unit within twenty-four hours post-op.”
“Thank you.” Bryn took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her suitcase. Her steps were as slow and measured as she approached her father’s room as her pulse was wild, and she paused for a moment outside the glass to just observe the scene on the other side.
Her father had always been such an imposing force in her life that it was disconcerting to see him lying in a hospital bed surrounded by machines, looking so much smaller than she ever remembered seeing him. He had always been larger-than-life, powerful and imposing, but all of that was gone, replaced by an unmistakable air of fragility that had her reeling. Her mother sat beside him, her back straight and her posture perfect, though Bryn could tell from the haggard look on her face that she was feeling the effects of the day as well.
Bryn did not knock before she opened the door just far enough to slip inside, her eyes darting to the machines on the far side of the bed that beeped and hummed in quiet reassurance that her father was still alive.
He slept through her arrival, but her mother turned to her and nodded curtly. Her mother’s expression was tight, her eyes tired, and the sliver of hope Bryn might have harbored about this being the time she was finally glad to see her died the instant her mother opened her mouth. “You made it.”
There was no relief in her tone, no happiness that Bryn had arrived. Her voice was flat, emotionless, and Bryn took a deep breath as she straightened her shoulders and nodded. “I have. How is he?”
Her mother turned back to look at her father. “The surgeon said that the procedure went well. He will be by in the morning to check on your father again, but he is optimistic that your father will make a full recovery.”
“That’s good news,” Bryn said. She left her bag beside the door and made her way further into the room. She knew that this was where she needed to be, but she felt completely useless as she stood at the foot of her father’s bed. “How long will he need to remain in the hospital?”
“If everything goes well, a few days. But the doctor said that it could take over a month before he is fully recovered.”
Bryn nodded, bracing herself for what she knew would be coming next.
And her mother did not disappoint. “It is time that you stop playing around with that vineyard of yours and come home to take over the firm.”
Bryn closed her eyes and took deep breath. She had no intention of returning to Boston, but now was not the time to get into that argument with her mother. “We’ll see what the doctors say and how he’s feeling before we start making decisions about the future.”
“Brynsley…”
“Mother,” Bryn sighed. “Now is not the time to worry about the company. Langston will handle things while Father is being evaluated, and once we have a better understanding of the scope of his recovery process, we will make a decision.”
Her mother looked surprised by the forcefulness of her tone, but the fact that she had not outright refused seemed to be enough for now. “Fine. But you will need to come home.”
Bryn bit her tongue, knowing that her mother would not appreciate her pointing out that her home was in Washington. She shook her head and looked at the time on the clock that was mounted on the wall facing the bed. She had been in the room for less than five minutes and she was already ready to leave. “We’ll see, Mother.”
Demands made and not entirely refused, they lapsed into a tense silence that was split only by the soft beeps of the telemetry machines beside her father’s bed. Bryn’s pulse slowed to match the hollow, tic, tic, tic, of the clock on the wall, and after half an hour of her and her mother studiously avoiding eye contact, Bryn announced, “I’m exhausted from the flight. I’m going to go find a hotel for the night, and I will be back first thing in the morning. Is there anything you would like me to bring you?”
“That will not be necessary.” Her mother waved a perfectly manicured hand toward the far corner of the room. “I had Mariana bring me a bag earlier.”
Bryn just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She should have known that her mother would have their maid bring her a bag, never mind the fact that Mariana did not drive and would have had to get her son to pick her up and bring her into the city to the hospital. “Of course. If anything happens, you can contact me on my cell. Otherwise, I will be back first thing in the morning when the surgeon comes by to do his rounds.”
Her mother’s curt nod was her only reply, and Bryn sighed as she turned her back on her parents, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and walked out the door. It was almost a relief, in a twisted kind of way, to know that even this life-altering event had done nothing to affect her mother’s view of her, because at least now she knew what was expected of her.
She drummed her fingers against her leg as she rode the elevator back down to the main lobby, and stopped by Ethel’s desk just long enough to get the location of a nearby hotel.
The Wyndham was only a few blocks away, and once Bryn was in her room, she finally allowed herself to begin to shed her armor. She abandoned her bag near the bathroom door and dropped heavily to the bed as she called the one person who could make her feel better.
Anna answered on the first ring, relief and concern plain in her voice as she said, “Finally. I’ve been worried sick since I got your message. Are you in Boston now? How are you?”
Bryn smiled and closed her eyes. “Sorry. Yes, I’m in Boston.”
“Are you at the hospital? How’s your father?”
“I just left there. I’ve gotten a room at a nearby hotel for the night. He’s doing as well as can be expected. My mother said that the surgery went well, and that the surgeon expects him to make a full recovery.”
“That’s great news. How’s she handling it?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess.” Bryn groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “It’s my mother, so…”
Anna made a small noise of understanding and asked, “What hospital is he at?”
“Mass General.”
“They have an excellent cardiac unit. He’s in good hands.”
Bryn nodded. “Good.” She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “How was your day?”
“Not as exciting as yours, but good. Had lunch with Jules, she says hello.”
“Tell her I say hello back.” Bryn yawned. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’ve had a long day.”
“And the next few are going to be even longer,” Bryn muttered. Her phone beeped with an incoming call, and her heart stopped when she saw her mother’s name and phone number at the top of her screen. “Anna. My mother is calling. Do you want to wait, or do you want me to just call you back?”
“I’ll wait.”
“Okay.” Bryn took a deep breath she answered the waiting call, “Mother?”
“Your father is being rushed back to surgery.”
“What?” Bryn sat up in surprise. “Why?”
“They think he may have had another heart attack. The said they’ll know more once they get him in the operating room.”
“Okay.” Bryn jumped to her feet. “I’m only a few blocks away at the Wyndham. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“I’ll be in the surgical waiting area. He’s not breathing.” Her voice hitched, the sound so soft and broken that Bryn’s knees nearly gave out. “Hurry.”
“I’ll find you,” Bryn promised as her mother hung up. Pulse racing with fear, she grabbed her room key and took off. Phone in hand in case her mother called again, she sprinted down the stairs at the end of the hall and out to the street. It had taken her approximately five minutes to walk to the hotel from the hospital, but she covered that same distance in less than half the time, her heart hammering in her throat with every slap of her boots against the pavement.
Forty-Seven
The back of Bryn’s eyelids felt like sandpaper, and she winced as she gingerly rubbed them with her closed fists. Five hours of sleep had done little to rejuvenate her body after being awake for over twenty-four, but it was enough to make her feel more mentally alert. Or, at the very least, like she was better prepared to deal with everything that waited for her back at the hospital.
Her father’s emergency bypass surgery had lasted an agonizing five and a half hours, but he had been returned to his room in the CSICU by six that morning. She had stayed for another four just to assure herself that he was out of the woods—or as out of the woods as it was possible for a person to be after undergoing bypass surgery—before excusing herself to get some much needed rest.