I buried my nose into Jasper’s neck fur, the phone still pressed to my ear.
“You there?” Aidan asked.
“Yeah.” The word came out muffled. “Fine. I’ll check my email. How’s your night?”
“Corporate dudes can really drink,” he said.
“That’s because they’re miserable. Drinking dulls their pain.”
He laughed. “They’ve already polished off a case of Grey Goose.”
“It’s not even seven o’clock.”
“It’s gonna be a long night,” Aidan said with a sigh. “I better get back to it. Caleb needs help slinging drinks.”
“Do not!” Caleb called from somewhere in the background.
I let out a laugh.
“Order some food, don’t cook, relax. Check your email,” Aidan said.
“Aidan Kincaid, good at marriage,” I quipped.
“Check your email,” he said again.
“Okay, I’ll check my email!” I groused. “See you later. Love you.”
“Love you.”
“Love you!” Caleb called.
Shaking my head, I hung up. I looked at Jasper. “Am I being a wimp?”
His ears twitched, but otherwise, he acted as though he hadn’t heard me.
“Should I just suck it up and see if I’ve been rejected?”
His ears twitched again, and still he didn’t move. With a sigh, I gently moved him off my lap. I went into my office and sat down at my desk. I shook my mouse to wake up the computer screen. A moment later, my inbox pinged with replies.
“Hot diggity!” I yelled in excitement. As I scrolled through the emails, I realized most of them were polite brush-offs. They were booked or not taking on new clients. Out of thirty emails only three had openings. I discarded one because I didn’t like the tone of the email. The other two, I replied back, asking if they’d mind looking over the sample. I wanted to make sure we were a good match.
Finding the right editor was harder than dating in New York. Then again, I had dated a closeted gay guy for two years.
I looked at Jasper who stood in the doorway to the office. “Tell me I’m great.”
He let out a woof.
“Tell me you love me.”
Woof.
“You want a treat, don’t you?”
Woof.
Nodding, I got up. Jasper dogged my heels as I went to the cookie jar in the kitchen that held his organic, gluten-free duck nuggets.
“Sit,” I commanded.
He sat.
“Paw.”
He gave me his paw.
“Edit my book.”
He let out a whimper. With a sigh, I gave him his treat. “You really don’t pull your own weight around here, dog.”
Instead of listening to me tell him what a lousy houseguest he was, Jasper bounded over to the futon and jumped up on it.
“All right, you ruffian. What do you say to another Hallmark movie?”
Chapter 26
#Aidandoesthemorphine
I woke up to a vibrating cell phone. Searching for it on my bedside table, my hand encountered air. It took me a minute to realize I’d fallen asleep on the couch.
“Crap,” I muttered. I somehow reached the lamp and turned on the switch. Bright light illuminated the living room. Jasper was asleep, his head resting on my legs. The DVR read 3:11 a.m.
Frowning, I grabbed my phone. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway. “Hello?” I croaked.
“Mrs. Kincaid?”
I licked my dry lips. “Yes, this is she.”
“I’m Dr. Campbell at Beth Israel. Your husband was brought in, and we rushed him to emergency surgery—”
“Emergency Surgery!” I screamed. “What happened? Oh, God. He was hit by a car, walking home—”
“Mrs.—”
“He got robbed and they stabbed him!”
“Mrs.—”
“He fell and hit his—”
“MRS. KINCAID,” the doctor boomed. “Your husband’s appendix burst!”
“His appendix?” I repeated. Blood slowly returned to my head. “You sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s sleeping soundly. He’ll make a full recovery in no time.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“My pleasure. You can visit him tomorrow in room three fifteen.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Tomorrow. Visiting hours are between—”
“Doctor, you just called me at three eleven in the morning to tell me my husband is in the hospital. Do you really think I’m just gonna be able to go back to sleep and wait until tomorrow?”
“I know its difficult, but—”
“I’m pregnant!” I shouted, causing Jasper to perk up. “I’m pregnant, and undue stress is bad for a woman in my condition.”
He sighed in defeat. “All right, Mrs. Kincaid. I’ll have a nurse bring a cot to your husband’s room. Do me a favor. Take a deep breath. Good. Another one.”
“Thank you,” I said when I felt my blood pressure stabilize.
“You have nothing to worry about. He’ll recover quickly.”
“Are you married?” I blurted out.
“Yes.”
“Happily?” I needled.
“All right, Mrs. Kincaid. I concede your point. You’re going to worry no matter what. But you were right about stress. Try to minimize it. As you said, a woman in your condition shouldn’t have undue stress.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
I hung up and then burst into tears. A knock on the door startled me out of my meltdown. Jasper jumped up and barked at the door. I shushed him and then went to peer through the peephole.
It was my Polish neighbor from across the hall, Mrs. Nowacki. She was in a blue terrycloth bathrobe and red slippers.
I opened the door. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Nowacki. Did I wake you?’
She waved a hand at me and stepped inside. “I’m always awake at this hour,” she said, Polish accent thick. “My colon…”
“Er—sorry.” I wiped the tears from my eyes.
“I heard you yell and came to make sure you were all right.”
I was instantly grateful not to be alone. My lip wobbled. “Aidan’s in the hospital. His appendix burst.”
She frowned. “Appendix?”
Since I had no idea the Polish word for appendix, I gestured to the low part of my stomach and then made a burst motion with my hands.
Her face cleared of confusion.
“He’s okay,” I assured her. “But I want to go to the hospital immediately. Only…” I looked at Jasper who was sitting at Mrs. Nowacki’s feet.
“I watch the szczeniak,” she offered, patting Jasper’s head.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “We have nice conversation about life.”
“You and Jasper?”
She nodded again. “They speak, but no one listens.”
“Uhm. Okay.” I handed her Jasper’s leash. “He usually goes out around seven thirty a.m. Is that okay?”
“It’s okay.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Nowacki,” I said, relief in my voice. “I’ll try and be back by nine.”
She waved me away. “I use spare to key to feed him breakfast.”
When we’d moved in, Mrs. Nowacki had informed me that she’d had the key to our apartment. She’d gotten it from the tenants who’d lived there before us. Eccentric as she was, she’d never abused the privilege of having a key to our place.
“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling emotion getting the better of me.
“Go to your mąż. Give him kiss for me.” She winked and then opened the door to the apartment. Jasper looked at me. I shooed him at her. He trotted after her, and the door to her apartment closed.
Inhaling a deep breath, I threw on my coat and boots and then got an Uber. Twenty minutes later, I was in the hospital. I checked in with the nurse who directed me to Aidan’s room. He was sound asleep when I crept in. I closed the door slowly, so
as not to wake him.
I gently ran my hand across his hair and tried to choke back the tears. It was just his appendix. He’d be fine. I desperately wanted to climb into bed next to him, but he needed his rest. Besides, a bunch of tubes and wires were attached to him, and I didn’t want to accidentally pull one out.
Making sure a blanket covered him, I had to force myself not to keep petting him. I settled into the cot and curled up into a ball. Pressing my face to the pillow, I let the tears rip.
“You’re beautiful,” Aidan rasped.
My eyes peeled open, swollen and gritty. I had no doubt my hair was in a dark, frizzy cloud around my face, and judging by the dry mouth, I had been sleeping with it gaping open.
Beautiful, my ass.
I sat up slowly, my head throbbing with one of those headaches I knew I’d have all day. Not enough sleep or aspirin would get rid of it.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I came to his side.
“Groggy. And thirsty.”
There was a pitcher of water on the bedside table. I filled the plastic glass and held up the straw to his mouth. He drained three quarters of the glass and then rested his head against the pillow.
“So your appendix ruptured?” I asked. “Where were you when it happened?”
“On my way home. I collapsed on the sidewalk. Someone called an ambulance.”
“It’s my understanding,” I drawled, running my fingers through his messy hair. “That there are symptoms of an inflamed appendix. Is that right?”
“You should know. You do watch Grey’s Anatomy,” he teased.
“Aidan.” I said his name in a warning tone.
“You sound just like a mom.” His glassy blue eyes brightened, and he smiled. “Did you know that?”
“I’m gonna count to three and then—”
“Please make it dirty. Please make it dirty.”
“Aidan,” I growled.
He sighed. “Yeah, my side kind of hurt. But nothing bad. And the Advil I popped during the event seemed to help.”
“You mean you were so busy pouring shots for the suits that you didn’t notice.”
“Something like that.”
I shook my head.
“How did you get a cot in here?” he asked. “Visiting hours—”
“I played the pregnant card.” As soon as I said the word, it was like my bladder filled instantly. “Be right back.”
After using the loo, I came out to a nurse taking Aidan’s vitals. She was a cute little thing, blonde, perky. Better suited to being a dental hygienist than a nurse. Or a realtor.
“Breakfast will be right up,” she cooed. “Unfortunately, it’s going to be pretty awful. Bland, but that’s the post-surgery diet.”
He flashed her a white grin. “I’ll survive. Thanks, Susie.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Feel better, Aidan.” With a quick glance in my direction, she paused. “Oh. I didn’t know Aidan had a visitor.”
“I’m not a visitor,” I cooed in the same stupid flirty tone she’d used. “I’m his wife.”
“Nice to meet you.” She quickly darted out the door.
I glared after her.
Aidan’s chuckle had me whirling. “You shut up.”
He tried to laugh and then gripped his side. “Ow.”
“Serves you right,” I muttered, going to his bed and fluffing the pillow behind his head.
“What did that pillow ever do to you?” he asked. “You’re punching it, not fluffing it.”
Leaning over, I brushed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m pretending it’s your face.” I shook my head. “Un-fucking-believable. You’re lying in a hospital bed, missing part of your anatomy—”
“Not a vital part, thank God.”
I ignored him. “You’re gorked out on pain meds, and yet you still manage to be charming.”
“It’s the Kincaid gift.”
“The Kincaid curse is not knowing when to keep your mouth shut.”
“Ooooh, I like it when you’re rough.”
I laughed.
“But seriously, Sibby. Aren’t you glad you reeled me in when you did?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Locked me down.” He held up his hand and gestured to his ring finger. “Tiniest prison ever.”
“I’d hit you with a pillow, but you’re bed bound.”
“Best prison ever.” He smiled. “Give me a good morning kiss.”
“We both have morning breath,” I pointed out.
“Just a quick peck.”
The breakfast tray arrived, and Aidan grumbled when all he saw was oatmeal and dry toast. “What is this?” he demanded. “How am I supposed to get my strength back?”
A tall, thin orderly set the tray down in front of Aidan. “Bland food for a few days, and if it sits well, you get an upgrade.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I need my strength back,” Aidan repeated. “See my wife?” Aidan pointed and the orderly’s gaze went to me. I waved. “Well, she’s pregnant. I’ve done a lot of reading—pregnant women want it all the time. How am I supposed to service her when—”
“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” I said, covering Aidan’s mouth with my hand, my face heating with embarrassment. “Morphine.”
The orderly’s shoulders shook. “I’ve heard worse. Believe me.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Let’s see. I’ve been propositioned more times than I care to count. I’ve been asked if I was into swinging, BDSM—”
“So morphine removes all filters.”
“Who says they were on morphine?” The orderly winked and then slipped through the door.
I looked at Aidan who was staring up at me with mischievous blue eyes. I lowered my hand. “You’re pure trouble.”
“And that’s why you love me.”
“Actually I love you for your huge—”
“Good morning, Mrs. Kincaid,” Dr. Campbell greeted with a knowing smile.
“Just shoot me. Please,” I muttered.
Aidan made a gun gesture and fired it at me, making toy gun pellet sounds. I shook my head. “Do you think we can lower his morphine?”
“We want to keep him comfortable. We’re going to keep him here for a few days. Normally, we’d send him home today, but because he had open surgery, we want to monitor him for signs of sepsis. When he goes home, he needs to be on bed rest for a week. No heavy lifting. Minimal moving.”
“I feel like a part of me is missing,” Aidan lamented. “Is that normal?”
“Dear Lord,” I muttered. “A husband on bed rest? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I’m the pregnant one.”
Chapter 27
#croissantforyourthoughts
After breakfast, I left Aidan enjoying his morphine dessert. Before I went home to relieve Mrs. Nowacki of Jasper, I stopped off at the Polish bakery on the corner. The girl behind the counter grabbed a box, a pair of tongs, and waited for me to decide. When I was just getting ready to put my order in for a toasted everything bagel with lox, I felt my any-time-of-day sickness rear its head. I darted away from the counter, hand pressed to my mouth, and ran to the back.
I turned the handle of the single bathroom, but it wouldn’t budge. Pounding on the door, I yelled, “Hey! I need to get in there immediately!”
“Back off!” someone yelled from the other side.
There was no way I’d make it through the entire bakery without losing it. The bathroom was across the hall from the back kitchen, and I spied an empty dish tub. Grabbing it, I hocked my guts until there was nothing left. As I was bent over the dish tub, clutching it like a lifeline, the bathroom door opened.
“Ew. If you’re sick, you should’ve stayed home.”
I glanced up at the willowy blonde who had come out of the bathroom and glared at her. “I’m pregnant.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Another surge of nausea came about, and I hunched over the dish tub again.
A plump grandmotherly wom
an came out from around the counter to stand in front of me. “Nothing to see!” she snapped at the busybody customers. “Come have a seat in the back.” Taking the dish tub with one hand and tugging me along with the other, she urged me away from the main room and into the kitchen. She threw the dish tub in the economy-sized sink, sprayed it out, and then turned back to me.
“I’m so sorry.”
She waved a hand at me. “Sit, sit.”
I plopped down in a folding chair, inhaling the scent of sugary goodness baking in the ovens. Rows and rows of cookie sheets lined the big island, the pastries cooling.
“You eat this,” she said, handing me a croissant in a napkin. “When I was pregnant with my third, it was the only thing that would calm my stomach and stay down.”
“Thank you.” I tore a piece off of the buttery croissant and pushed it into my mouth. And then I made a noise better reserved for the bedroom. The woman laughed.
I polished off the croissant and immediately my stomach rumbled. “May I have another? I’ll be glad to pay for—”
She hushed me and then handed me another.
“Thank you.” I held out my hand to her. “I’m Sibby. I live around the corner.”
“Marta.” She took my hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “So, your morning sickness. It’s pretty bad?”
I nodded. “I don’t just get it in the mornings either. It comes at different times every day.”
Sibby’s Law meet pregnancy.
“Hmmm,” Marta said. With a smile, she gestured to my crumbled napkin. “Another? I won’t judge.”
Shaking my head, I stood. “No. Thank you so much. I left my box of pastries at the counter.” I followed Marta out of the back kitchen. The bakery had cleared out a bit, the late morning rush over.
Marta spoke in Polish to the counter girl. The girl reached underneath the counter and lifted my box of pastries. When I tried to hand over money to pay, Marta covered my hand.
“Come back and see me,” Marta said.
I took the box and dropped the money into the tip jar. The cool air on my cheeks refreshed my mood and my stomach. Mrs. Nowacki answered her door almost immediately. Jasper leapt toward me; he was so happy to see me his entire behind wagged.
Tales of a Sibby Slicker Page 18