by Wendy Wax
“I liked it better when you were pretending to be Super Dad,” Nikki said as she picked at the Cuban, her stomach too unsettled to actually eat it. “You know before I caught you sound asleep with your face in the Cheerios bowl.”
“Well, at least I hadn’t put milk in yet,” Joe replied somewhat grimly. “My mother tells me it’ll get easier.”
Nikki looked at him doubtfully. “She probably only said that because she’s afraid we won’t let them leave town if she tells us the truth.”
“Gemma’s not screaming quite so much,” Joe said, pitching his voice close to a whisper.
Nikki nodded. It was true that once Nikki had started doing more and feeling less fearful, the newly named Gemma Grace had taken it down a notch. But Nikki had discovered that even though the screaming had lessened, her headaches had not.
“And I’m extremely grateful that you were only teasing when you told me you’d decided to name her Crysalata.” Joe took a spoonful of black beans and rice that made her stomach turn. “Even if that was only because there is no actual Italian name that means ‘cries a lot.’”
“Well, I like that Gemma translates to ‘jewel,’ and I’m glad you liked my mother’s name for her middle name,” Nikki said. “Gemma Grace sounds so peaceful and elegant.” Which was, of course, a bit of wishful thinking.
“I’m sorry I never got to meet your mother,” Joe said quietly as they cleared the table and settled together on the couch, which was about as far as either of them could make it. Nikki leaned back against him and put her feet up on the coffee table. She narrowed her gaze. She’d barely been out of the cottage for weeks and spent very little time on her feet, but her ankles looked swollen and her toes—she attempted to focus more sharply—her toes looked like stuffed sausages. She lifted her head to try to catch a glimpse of her face in a nearby mirror. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a shower. “Do my cheeks look big to you?”
Joe’s dark hair stood on end. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheeks and looked at her more closely. “Maybe a little. But you’re always beautiful to me.”
She looked in the mirror again. She resembled a squirrel with a mouth full of acorns. She scooted back and felt the pain beneath her ribs again. She had no idea how long it was supposed to take to get back to normal. Or if she ever would. “We look like shit,” she observed.
“We do,” Joe agreed.
“When do you have to go back to work?”
“Not yet. That’s why I was gone so long before the babies were born—so I could take a full month. You know, to enjoy every minute of my paternity leave.”
Nikki snorted, but she did it quietly. She had learned the importance of letting sleeping babies sleep.
“They are incredible,” Joe said. “But I’ve never worked this hard in my life.”
“I know,” Nikki said. “I’m so ashamed of myself for thinking stay-at-home mothers weren’t actually working.” She shifted and felt the pain again. Bile rose in her throat. Her vision blurred. She turned to look at Joe’s face, but his features had gone soft and somehow out of position. She could tell that he was speaking, but the pounding in her ears made it difficult to make out the words.
“You do know that . . . love . . . right? And that I want . . .”
She blinked rapidly in an attempt to bring him back into focus. Light streaming through the blinds sliced like shards of glass and then began to strobe.
“I . . .” She used his body to lever upright. “I have to . . .” She swallowed and began to move toward the bathroom, desperate to get there before she threw up.
“Nik? What’s wrong?” His voice was low but urgent. “What’s happened?”
She wiped her mouth and splashed water on her face, which looked overlarge and distorted in the bathroom mirror. She blinked in fear, trying to see more clearly.
Joe came into the bathroom and put his arms around her, turning her. “Nikki? Can you hear me? What’s the . . .”
His face wavered in and out in an amoeba-like blur, the words coming at her in slow motion, and still she couldn’t make sense of them. She reached for him blindly, clinging with her last bit of energy as everything went dark.
Thirty-four
“I think hospital waiting rooms need to be redesigned so that there’s more room for pacing,” Avery said, threading past Maddie, Kyra, and Bitsy as they awaited word on Nikki.
“Sounds interesting.” Maddie sat in a molded plastic chair, which could also use some redesigning, and watched Avery pace. They’d been there for over two hours and Joe had not yet emerged from ICU. Had it only been three weeks ago that they’d sat in this same hospital anticipating the twins’ birth?
“Well, I hate hospitals,” Kyra said. “They always make me think about Max,” she said, referring to Max Golden, whose South Beach home they had renovated and who had thrown himself in front of a bullet to save Dustin. They’d been at the hospital with him when he’d died. But Max Golden had been ninety.
Avery stopped and dropped heavily into a chair. From the look on her face, Maddie guessed she was thinking about her mother, who had been felled by an aneurysm on Mermaid Point and never made it to the hospital at all.
“While you’re at it, maybe you should get Ray in here to do something about all these green walls,” Bitsy said. “Green is not a healing color, unless you’re a plant.”
They were all desperately trying to keep things light, but their eyes kept straining to the ICU entrance.
“Sure, then we can call one of the networks and pitch a new makeover show called Doctor Décor or Emergency Rehab,” Kyra said.
“Nikki has to be okay, doesn’t she?” Avery asked Maddie. “I mean, I don’t understand what could have happened.”
Maddie automatically turned to reassure Avery, but the words didn’t come. Because the longer they sat with no word, the less okay things seemed. Her usual calm deserted her. For the first time she realized that she was worn out, tired of everyone looking to her for reassurance when she never seemed to be able to ask for it herself. At the moment she could use someone telling her that everything would be okay.
Bitsy left and returned with coffees and candy bars. Bathroom runs followed. Unable to sit a moment longer, Maddie stood and fled the waiting room, pulling her phone out of her purse as she went. Before she could think it through, she had hit speed dial.
William picked up on the second ring. “Maddie?”
The sound of his voice brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t seem to find her own voice to answer.
“Are you all right?” Concern for her rang in every word.
She tried to blink back the tears so that she could respond, but emotion clogged her throat even as relief that he’d answered and was just at the end of the line washed over her. She sagged against the hallway wall.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
In a tear-choked voice, she told him what had happened and where they were.
“Everything will be all right,” he said gently. “Joe’s with her and the fact that it’s taking time doesn’t mean the news will be bad. He’s probably just waiting until he has something solid to share.”
She held the phone against her ear and moved to stand just outside the waiting room, as Will’s soothing words washed over her.
“Tell me what I can do,” he said. “I can get there if—”
“Oh, God, there’s Joe,” she said, cutting Will off. “I’ll . . . Can I call you back?”
Pocketing her phone, Maddie hurried into the waiting room. Joe’s dark eyes were sunken; exhaustion was written on his face. One large hand ran through his unkempt dark hair then kneaded what must have been a crick in his neck.
“Is Nikki okay?” Maddie asked in a rush.
“She will be. But if we hadn’t gotten here when we did . . .” Joe’s voi
ce trailed off. He shook his head as if still trying to come to terms with reality.
“What happened? What does she have?” Kyra asked.
“She has postpartum preeclampsia.” He swallowed. “If we hadn’t gotten here when we did, she could have started having seizures or even a stroke.”
“But her pressure stayed down once she was put on bed rest and she was fine when she was released,” Maddie said in surprise.
Joe nodded. “It’s apparently rare—the doctor said only about five percent of women get it postpartum. But it can happen up to six weeks after giving birth. And the symptoms can be missed because a lot of them are typical in a woman who’s gone through childbirth.” He dropped down into a vacant chair and expelled a harsh breath of air. “Jesus. She was completely blind for almost two hours. She could have died.”
Maddie watched his face as he fought to regain control.
“What happens now?” Bitsy asked.
“They’ve started her on blood pressure medication and an anticonvulsive to help prevent seizures.” He grimaced at the word. “She’ll spend tonight in ICU then move to a regular room in the morning. They want to keep her for a few days to make sure there are no complications.”
“Do you want to go back to the cottage and get cleaned up? Or maybe go have a bite?” Maddie asked.
He shook his head. “She’s allowed to nurse and I think she needs . . . My parents are going to bring the girls. My mother’s bringing me a change of clothes.”
“We’re going to head back then,” Avery said. She, Kyra, and Bitsy hugged Joe. “But let us know if you or Nikki or the girls need anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Mom?” Kyra asked.
“I’m taking Joe down to the cafeteria for a drink and something to eat.”
“No, I want to . . .” Joe began.
“I know,” Maddie said, getting to her feet. “But you’ll be here in the building if Nikki needs you. You need some nourishment.” And the kind of comfort Will had just offered her. “You can come right back up.”
In the end he followed her like Dustin might have and made no comment when she filled a tray and carried it to a small table near a window.
“I could have lost her,” he said. “Forever.” He swallowed and looked away. As she placed a sandwich and soft drink in front of him, she had to resist the urge to pull him into her arms and comfort him as she would have comforted Dustin.
“I’ve lost people I’ve cared about in the field,” he said softly. “It’s part of the job. But I was not prepared for this.”
“I know,” Maddie said. “It’s shocking how things can change in a heartbeat.” As she’d discovered when Steve had lost everything including his job and his self-esteem in Malcolm Dyer’s Ponzi scheme. When Deirdre had died between one breath and the next. Bitsy had lost her husband and her fortune in one day. “It’s easy to forget when the days are full and rushing by, but there are no guarantees. And it’s better not to put things off because we never really know what might happen next.” She reminded herself to heed her own advice as she gave Joe her most compelling “I know what I’m talking about because I’m a mother” look. “So, if there’s anything you’ve been meaning to take care of, Joe, there’s absolutely no time like the present.”
• • •
The one-bedroom, one-bath cottage Avery stood in was almost too small to pace. At 450 square feet, it was at the middle end of the tiny house spectrum. Empty as it was, with only walls, windows, and doors, it was a blank slate with almost unlimited possibilities. She liked its location at the northeast edge of the Sunshine Hotel property, bounded on two sides by a wall of interlaced hedges and trees that muffled the sounds from the street and offered the illusion of privacy. It was hers, in exchange for the money she’d invested in the Sunshine Hotel, if she wanted it.
She taped photos and magazine pages to the walls. Then she took her time measuring each room carefully, sketching her ideas on a pad as she envisioned the space, enjoying the challenge of making the most of every inch. Once the central air was installed, she could move in and live here while she finished out the space. For Bitsy’s cottage, a big part of the goal had been finding room for her possessions. But Avery had perched first at Bella Flora and then on locations for Do Over. When she’d moved into Chase’s after Deirdre’s death, she’d had little more than her clothes and her father’s tool belt.
She paused, waiting for the pain that always accompanied thoughts of her parents. But her father hadn’t chosen to leave her and neither had Deirdre—at least not the second time. Nikki’s rush to the hospital and the frantic efforts to save her were one more reminder of how unexpectedly life could change. Or end.
Chase had intentionally pushed her away. She would be a fool to waste whatever time she had left waiting for him to come to his senses and see her worth. It was time to have a home of her own, no matter how small, and a life, which could be as large as she was able to make it.
There was a knock on the open door and Ray Flamingo stepped inside. He looked fresh in his melon-colored linen shirt and billowy white pants. She knew from experience that he would look just as good when August arrived and the rest of them wilted. He looked at her sketchpad then turned slowly to take in the space.
“I’m going to build in here and create extra storage there,” she said, gesturing. “I want to keep it clean lined and simple. In fact, I’m thinking of just finishing the concrete floors instead of covering them.”
“I love it,” Ray said. “And maybe a few bright jute rugs and bamboo shades. This place is perfect for you. You are asking me to help, right?”
“I’m counting on it,” she said.
“Good. Because I need your help with something right now,” Ray said with a quick, if vague, smile. “Bitsy and Maddie are up at the main building. Can you come powwow with us?”
Her nod was automatic.
“Come along then,” he said with a wink and an exaggerated sway of his lean hips. “Walk this way.”
Avery smiled at the old joke and fell in line behind him knowing that she’d never manage to walk anywhere near as gracefully as the sandy-haired linen-clad man in front of her.
• • •
Nikki was more than ready to leave the hospital three days later, and she didn’t really care what she was wearing when she left. Or so she thought until she opened the hanging bag Joe had brought and pulled out the vintage Emilio Pucci slip dress inside. She held the sleeveless V-backed 1960s-era maxi to her chest. With wide straps, an empire waist, and abstract stripes in turquoise, blue, green, and white, it had been one of her very favorite pieces of clothing. Right up until the moment she’d been forced to sell it after her felonious brother had bankrupted her.
“Where did you find this?” she asked, running a hand over the silky fabric.
“Bitsy sent it.”
“Bitsy?”
Joe smiled. “Yes, she said she’d been holding on to it for you.” He reached into the bag and pulled out an adorable pair of turquoise flip-flops with sparkling stars and seahorses that dangled from the toe strap. “These are from Maddie.”
“Here, can you help me slip on the dress?” She pulled off the hospital gown and raised her arms. The lightweight nylon slid down over her body like a caress. It had no zipper or closure and easily adjusted to her fuller shape. “God, I always loved this dress,” she said, turning to face Joe.
His eyes darkened as he looked at her. She followed his gaze down to her swelling breasts. “Is it too low cut?” She had definitely not been a nursing mother the last time she’d worn this dress.
“Absolutely not.” He leaned down and kissed her, was still kissing her when the nurse arrived with the wheelchair. “It’s perfect.”
She drowsed a bit on the drive home and awoke several times to feel Joe’s eyes on her face. As they waited at a stoplight, she touched her
cheek with the tips of her fingers. “Is my face still swollen?” She had been amazed how large her face had actually gotten, almost like a balloon that someone had blown too much air into. Thank God she hadn’t burst.
“The swelling’s gone down. And the doctor said your blood pressure’s under control,” Joe replied. “But are you sure you’re okay?”
“I still feel like I was run over by a freight train, but whoever was playing Ping-Pong in my head has stopped and that pain under my ribs—the one the doctor said was my liver—is gone.” She smiled up at him. “And I will be eternally grateful that my vision is back.” She swallowed as she remembered the terror of being blind. “Those two hours when I couldn’t see at all? That was the most frightening thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Joe nodded. “You shaved a whole lot of years off my life, Nik. And you forced me to face what I now know is my biggest fear.”
“You? Afraid?” she asked, surprised. “Of what?”
“Of even the idea of having to live without you.” He spoke softly, his voice thick with emotion.
“Oh.” She felt a rush of love and wonder.
The light changed and he turned his eyes to the road. As the car accelerated, she cocked her head and shot him a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re not just saying that because you’re afraid of being left alone to change Sofia and Gemma’s diapers?”
Joe laughed. “Well, there is that. But no.” He had to keep his eyes on the road, but his free hand grasped hers. “I love you, Nikki.” He squeezed her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I love you totally and completely.”
He looked as if he was about to say more, and happiness flooded through her. She waited, barely breathing, for what she imagined would come next. When he remained silent, she turned her gaze out the window and attempted to banish her disappointment. She didn’t need a piece of paper, or a ring, or a formal promise of forever. It was a beautiful March afternoon. She was healthy and going home with a man who loved her. Home to their children and to whatever life they would carve out together. It was time to appreciate what she had and not dwell on what she might have had if only she’d said yes when she’d had the chance.