Best Dating Rules: A Romantic Comedy (The Best Girls Book 2)

by Tamie Dearen

  When she returned to the table, she found herself once again alone with Asher and a new glass of wine on the table. She considered calling it an evening, but Asher pleaded, “Let’s stay until the band breaks, and then we’ll take a stroll. It’s still early.”

  Sinking back into her chair, she sipped her wine again. She usually didn’t have more than one glass of wine, so she knew better than to drink the entire glass. But after a few more swallows, she finally began to feel less miserable about the evening. The music was soft and soothing, and she relaxed as Asher rubbed lightly on her arm. Soon she felt herself drifting off, and she laid her head against his shoulder.

  She awoke abruptly as a flash went off in her face. Opening her eyes, she blinked to focus on Becca standing in front of her with a victorious expression.

  “Thanks for the picture! I don’t know whether to send this one to the NYC Word or to just send it to Spencer.”

  Her heart was pounding, and she tried to stand up. But her legs felt wobbly and the room started spinning.

  “Where are you going?” asked Asher as he gently pushed her back in her seat. “A few more songs until the band breaks. I’ll make sure you get home.”

  Tears began to stream gently down Emily’s face as she laid her head back on his shoulder. She’d ruined everything. After Spencer saw this picture he’d never forgive her. And for what? Asher might have a cool English accent, but he wasn’t any better looking than Spencer. In fact, Spencer had nicer teeth. And he was taller. She liked really tall guys. And Spencer was sweeter. And he didn’t talk her into drinking alcohol. She liked Spencer better than Asher. She liked... Spencer. She liked Spencer, and it was too late. She’d ruined everything.

  She dozed off again and woke up at Asher’s gentle urging. “Wake up, love. Here, finish your drink.” She sat up and grabbed the table to stop the room from spinning. Only a glass and a half. She shouldn’t be dizzy.

  “No. I don’t feel good. I don’t want any more wine.”

  “But you haven’t even finished a second glass.”

  “No. I need to go home. I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Okay, fine.” His voice was terse. “Let’s go.”

  She stood up, leaning against him for support as they started for the door. He chuckled. “You don’t drink much, do you? Less than two glasses of wine, and you can’t even walk by yourself?”

  The room tipped at an awkward angle. “I—I think I need to sit down. Can you call me a taxi?”

  “Sure. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.” His eyes appeared in her vision, topped by brows wrinkled with concern. His face flew away as everything went black.

  *****

  Spencer couldn’t believe it. Emily was totally smashed. Passed out, drunk! When Grace had called him to come and help her, he’d almost refused. He wanted to throw up when he first received the offensive picture of Emily cozying up with the blond guy whose muscles were busting out of his shirt. Now he was just angry. Angry with Becca for sending him the photo. Angry with Emily for lying to him. Angry with himself for wasting his time and emotions on her.

  She’d evidently passed out at the bar, and the stupid blond guy didn’t even know where she lived. What was she doing out with a guy she barely knew? He’d looked in her cell phone and found Grace’s number and called her to come fetch Emily. He hadn’t even stayed around to make sure she’d come. When Spencer arrived with Grace, the blond guy was long gone. And Emily was drunk. Incoherent. Asleep. He’d had to pick her up and carry her to the taxi, and she hadn’t even woken up.

  “Should we call her parents?” Grace asked.

  “No, we should probably stick her in her room and let her sleep it off.”

  “Spencer, I know you’re hurt. But think for a minute. She’s not waking up. I don’t think she drinks that much.”

  “Well, maybe she drinks more when she’s out on a hot date.”

  Grace grabbed his arm. “Or maybe it’s something besides alcohol. Maybe you’re right—maybe she’s just drunk. But if not, if someone gave her something—some type of drug—she could die from it.”

  She could die? He wanted to yell at her or maybe he never wanted to speak to her again. But he didn’t want her to die. “So what do you propose?”

  “I say, let’s call Mr. Gherring and let them make the decision. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want him to think I got her drunk.”

  “He won’t—I’m your witness.”

  Gherring answered on the second ring.

  “Spencer? What’s wrong?”

  “Uhmm. Well, this is a little weird. But Grace got a call that Emily was passed out at a bar, and we came to get her. We have her in a taxi, headed for home. But... Well, she isn’t waking up. So, do you want us to take her home or to your place or to the—”

  Gherring interrupted. “Wait. Just a second.” Spencer heard muffled talking in the background and raised voices. “Spencer, thank you. I’m sorry to ask this. But will you please take her to the hospital. I’m on my way.” He heard arguing. “No, you’re not going. Don’t be ridiculous.” More muted words. “Okay. Okay. I’ll tell the doctor she’s never been drunk before. I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them. They’ll test her. They’ll do blood tests. They’ll figure out what she needs. You don’t need to come. Okay. Okay.”

  Gherring groaned into the phone. “Spencer, we’re both coming. Thank you so much.”

  Spencer told the taxi driver, “Okay. We need to go to the emergency room now.”

  “Spencer? Is she breathing? I can’t tell.” Her voice was shrill.

  “Quick! Lay her across my lap!” He bent over to feel for her breath and listen and watch to see her chest move.

  “Drive faster! Grace, call nine-one-one, and tell them we’re coming.” His heart was hammering in his chest. Did he remember what to do? He gave her two quick breaths and felt for a pulse. Thready. Only a few beats. He moved awkwardly to crouch on the floorboard and lay her down onto the seat, attempting to do chest compressions. “Oh God! Please, help us! Hurry up! I don’t have enough room—I’m too big. I can’t remember how many I’m supposed to do.” Tears were pouring down his face now. He breathed into her mouth again. “I can’t even get her in the right position. I don’t know if it’s working.” He pushed desperately on her chest, trying to keep his balance as the taxi careened around corners and sped along the streets. Again and again he breathed into her still body, praying the air was going into her lungs, praying the taxi would hurry. Over and over he pushed on her chest, begging God to let her live, his tears dripping on her.

  Suddenly the door opened and someone tried to take her body away from him. “No! She needs CPR!” He held onto her and tried to drag her back.

  “Spencer, let them take her!” Grace cried, pulling his arms away. “They know what to do.”

  “Oh God, Gracie!” He buried his face in her arms, sobbing. “I’ve lost her. I didn’t do it right—I couldn’t save her.”

  The fierce hug Grace returned did little to calm his sense of desperation as Emily’s lifeless body wheeled into the emergency room.

  Chapter Nine

  Anne shuddered, tamping down another wave of nausea while sitting in the cold sterile room staring at the machines and tubes that were connected to her daughter. Grace was slumped in sleep in the chair beside her. Spencer sat in the chair next to Emily’s hospital bed bent forward and resting his head on the metal railing. Four a.m., almost six hours since Spencer had called to give them the alarming news about Emily passing out at a bar. Arriving at the hospital in fifteen minutes, the scene awaiting them was even worse than they feared.

  The emergency room doctor regurgitated mumbo-jumbo about her respiration being severely depressed, causing cardiac arrest... doctor-speak for “she quit breathing and her heart quit beating.” Why would a healthy twenty-four-year-old’s lungs and heart quit working? Drug overdose. Probably a combination of drugs and alcohol. Doctors restarted her he
art and hooked her up to a respirator.

  Then came the infuriating questions. Did Emily have a history of drug and alcohol abuse? Did she have problems with depression? Had she ever been hospitalized for drug or alcohol use? How much alcohol did she consume on a weekly basis?

  But when the doctor recognized Steven, her words in Emily’s defense were suddenly more plausible. Yes, it was possible someone put something in her drink. Blood and urine samples were sent for analysis and the doctors performed gastric lavage, fancy words for pumping out her stomach. Steven insisted they call the police.

  Charlie called on Emily’s phone, returning Emily’s earlier call. “If I had only answered my phone, I would have made her leave that place. I didn’t hear it ring, and I didn’t realize she’d called me until I got home. I should have talked her out of going in the first place.”

  Anne felt equally guilty. “It’s not your fault, Charlie. She told me about it, too. She wasn’t interested in being talked out of it. For some reason she was determined to go out with this guy.”

  “Mom, she wouldn’t have listened to you. But I might have been able to talk her out of it. I figured it was too late, since she didn’t call me until right before she left.”

  Charlie booked a flight to New York in the morning. She insisted on coming, saying Emily would come for her.

  Anne was emotionally and physically exhausted, but tried to hide the fatigue and the returning nausea from Steven. He was in power mode, ordering everyone around and using his considerable influence to make things happen. He was like a dictator—a well-meaning dictator, but a dictator nonetheless. If he suspected she wasn’t feeling well, he would send her home or simply check her into the hospital. She had no chance of winning an argument with him right now.

  Steven marched into the room, surveying the surrounding scene.

  Spencer stood, keeping his hand clasped around Emily’s limp one. “What happened? What did you find out from the police? Did they talk to Denning?”

  Steven’s jaw muscles clenched. “Yes, they talked to him. They don’t think he did it. It wasn’t long from the time Becca sent you the picture until Denning called Grace. In his statement, he claimed she was acting really drunk when they were leaving. He said she complained about feeling bad, sat down, and passed out. They never even left the bar.”

  “He was still a jerk. He didn’t even stay with her until we got there. He left her passed out on that chair.” Spencer released Emily’s hand, pacing with long strides while he pulled at his hair.. “I should never have left her there. She’s too naïve, and I thought he looked like a sleaze. But, I was so mad she lied to me.” He paused beside Anne’s chair. “That guy didn’t even know where she lived—she barely knew him. What was she doing anyway? Why would she go on a date with him?”

  “I don’t know, Spencer. She’s normally mature and sensible. But every once in a while, she gets caught on some tangent. When that happens, she gets really stubborn, and no one seems to be able to talk sense into her.” What could she say to soothe his obviously raw feelings. “I hope you’ll give her a chance to explain... when she wakes up.”

  He moved back to Emily’s side, gently lifting her hand while turning to face Steven. “If it wasn’t Denning, then who was it?”

  “Denning swears she had a cup of coffee and a glass and a half of wine. He said she was perfectly fine until after she started drinking the second glass of wine.”

  Anne said, “I can’t even believe she started a second glass. She usually has a strict limit of one, and that’s if she drinks anything at all.”

  “She seems to have broken a number of her normal rules for this guy,” Spencer remarked sullenly.

  Steven continued. “But the tests showed an extremely high level of this drug in her system. If it was all in the second drink, and she only drank half of it, someone must have spiked it with a huge amount of this Rohypnol. We’re lucky she only drank half of it. And the doctor said she probably won’t remember much—the drug gives you amnesia.”

  “Spencer?” Anne pointed her chin at Grace, still sound asleep in her chair, with her head cocked at a strange angle. “Why don’t you go home and take Grace? You’ve done so much.”

  “Yes, Spencer.” Steven moved to grasp his shoulder. “The doctor’s tell me you probably saved her life with the CPR in the taxi.”

  He slumped into the chair beside Emily, shaking his head miserably. “No. I could barely remember what to do. I don’t even know if I got any air into her lungs, and I couldn’t get enough room to do the chest compressions the way I needed to.”

  “You did the best you could, and she’s probably alive because of you.”

  “But we won’t even know if she’s okay until she wakes up.” His eyes dropped to his lap. “I was so mad, I wanted to drop her off at her apartment. I thought she was drunk. It was Grace who said it might be something more. It was Grace who made me call you.”

  Steven glanced at her contorted form. “Then we’re thankful to Grace as well. But you really should take her home and get some sleep.”

  “No, thank you. I want to stay until Emily wakes up. I have to. I can’t leave until I see her awake.”

  Steven opened his mouth to object, but Anne caught his eye and silently bid him to her side. She whispered in his ear, “Let him stay. He needs to stay. Let’s send Grace home.”

  Nodding, he roused Grace and guided her half-sleeping form down the elevator to be driven home. Meanwhile Spencer kept his bedside vigil with his head on the bedrail and his hand firmly clasping Emily’s. Steven returned to the room and collapsed into the chair beside Anne. She reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it.

  “Thank you. I’m glad I’m not doing this by myself. I’m glad we have you.” With a weak smile she added, “Welcome to fatherhood.”

  He heaved a heavy breath. “I don’t much care for this hospital stuff. Between you and Emily, it’s becoming way too frequent for my taste.”

  “Mine, too. When did they say she’d wake up?”

  “They can’t be sure. It doesn’t usually progress all the way to cardiac arrest like hers did, so they have a hard time predicting.”

  Anne felt fresh tears forming and blinked hard. “But she will wake up, right? And they don’t think her brain went without oxygen?” She saw Spencer raise his head, hanging on Steven’s reply.

  He paused, obviously thinking carefully before he spoke. “The doctors refuse to make promises, but it’s very unlikely she’ll have any permanent damage from a single incident. On the other hand, she’ll likely be very confused, and she’ll probably have a really bad headache and nausea. And that can last up to forty-eight hours.”

  Anne swallowed hard. She wanted assurances not probabilities.

  He said, “Look, I know you don’t like that answer, but it’s the best one I’ve been able to get. At least she’s breathing on her own now. That’s a good sign, and she won’t be terrified, waking up on a ventilator.”

  “You’re right. I need to be thankful for every positive thing instead of worrying about the things I can’t change.”

  She felt his eyes looking her over. “I know you’re exhausted. We all are. You won’t be able to stay up here all day tomorrow. Not unless you want to end up in the hospital yourself.”

  “But I have to be here for her.”

  “You can stay until she wakes up. But then I’m sending you home so Connie can take care of you.” Squinting his eyes, he added, “And don’t think I’m unaware you’re already feeling sick. I should probably check you into your own room.”

  As Anne was formulating a counterargument in her head, Spencer stood to lean across the bedrail. “She’s moving, and her eyes are blinking. I think she’s waking up.”

  *****

  Emily had never felt so sick in her life. Her head pounded, and a blinding light assaulted her eyes. She struggled to open them, but it hurt too much. She could hear voices, vaguely familiar. Someone squeezed her hand. A heavy fog dragged her down. She w
illed herself to wake up. Her eyes squinted open slightly. Was that Spencer? Where was she? What was wrong with her? Why didn’t her body work right?

  She blinked her eyes open again. Her mother’s face floated into her vision. Why was her mom here? Where was she? Turning her head to the side, millimeter by millimeter, she saw Steven and Spencer. Both wore frowns. Her mother’s voice was in her ear.

  “—hurt anywhere? How do you feel?”

  She drifted into oblivion.

  Prying her eyes open, she felt a hand squeezing hers and gazed up into her mother’s eyes.

  “What happened to me?” her voiced croaked. Her mother held a straw to her lips. Cool water soothed her parched throat. “Thanks. My head hurts.”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “No… Wait...” Her mind struggled to retrieve the muddled details. “I’m in the hospital. Was Spencer here?” She gazed around the empty room.

  “He was here. Yes, he stayed until you woke up.”

  “What happened to me?”

  “You remember going to a bar with Asher Denning?”

  The painful details of the evening trickled into her head, driving salty tears to pool and drip down her face. “Oh Mom, Spencer was there. It was awful. I knew I shouldn’t have lied to him. I feel terrible.”

  Anne’s face was grim. “I wish now I’d tried to talk you out of it.”

  “But he was here? Is he mad at me? What am I saying? Of course he’s mad.” She wiped her damp face with the back of her hand.

  “He saved your life.”

  “What? How did he do that? What happened?”

  “Try to remember.”

  She forced herself to replay the uncomfortable evening in her mind. “He saw me and left at the very beginning. He was with Grace. She tried to warn me, but it was too late.”