Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
As tempted as I am to text him to see if he can spare a minute for me, I fight that urge because I can’t steal his time away from someone who really needs it.
“We’re going to head out,” Mrs. Robinson says. “Thanks again for the ice cream, Astrid. I can’t believe I had dessert with the singer of Forevermore.”
Astrid smiles softly.
She wrote that song for Berk before they were married. It was the impetus for her being signed to a recording contract and once the song was released, it was downloaded millions of times.
“You’re a star,” Dax comments. “How great is that?”
“It’s so great!” Saylor laughs. “Right, Stevie?”
They may be five years apart, but the two girls bonded quickly. Mrs. Robinson exchanged contact information with Astrid so Stevie and Saylor can meet up at the park one day before the Robinsons head back to Indiana.
“We need to go home too,” Astrid says to her daughter. “It’s going to be bedtime soon.”
I’m slightly envious because I barely slept last night, but I wouldn’t trade the time I spent with Gaines last night for anything.
“Do you want to catch an Uber with us, Els?” Penny asks.
“She can go with us,” Stevie counters.
“I have to make a stop on the way home,” I tell them both. “I had a great time, though.”
Hugs are exchanged. Kind thoughts are shared, and everyone departs leaving me alone in the hospital cafeteria.
I reach for my tote that is strung over the back of the chair I was sitting in. My stomach rolls in protest. That’s what two servings of ice cream in the span of a few hours will do to me.
It’s not nearly enough to send me straight to the ED but I can pass through there on my way home, so I shoulder my tote and head in that direction.
I take a seat on the perimeter of the ED waiting room. From this vantage point I have a clear view of every doctor who strolls by. I’ve given myself fifteen minutes to sit here. If I don’t spot Gaines in that time, I’ll go home.
The man next to me smiles. “What’s wrong with you?”
I smile back. “Do I look like something is wrong with me?”
He looks me over slowly. “You’re in love.”
He may be right, but it doesn’t matter. Gaines isn’t looking for anything long-term, and even if he were, my connection to his family complicates things, as does his to mine.
“Are you?” I ask.
“You’re way too young for me, sweetheart.” He adjusts the fedora on his head. “Besides that, my wife would kill me, and since she needs me to take care of her that won’t work for me.”
My heart aches for him because I sense he’s sitting next to me while he waits for news on her.
“She’s in there now.” He points toward one of the corridors that lead to the exam rooms. “With a handsome fellow who told me he could mend her heart.”
“Is it Dr. Morgan?”
“Dr. Whitman,” he says. “He’s a good guy but he needs to get a new tailor. His pants are hemmed way too short.”
As if on cue, a doctor with gray pants on and visible pink socks showing beneath the short bottom hem of the pants walks past.
“Speak of the devil.” He points at him. “Do you see what I mean? His tailor needs an eye exam.”
I nod. “I see it clear as day.”
“That means your beautiful blue eyes are just fine.” He taps his chest. “That’s not me flirting. I’m just making an observation.”
I move slightly in my chair and let out a deep breath.
“What hurts?”
I glance at him. “My stomach, I think.”
He nods. “Is the pain there, or more up here?”
I watch as he taps his chest in the center again.
“Can it be both?” I chuckle. “I had two bowls of ice cream today.”
His eyes widen. “Even I know that’s a bad idea. Are you lactose intolerant?”
“Nope.” I shake my head.
“My professional advice is to skip the ED.” He glances at the reception desk. “Go home. Drink some soda water, and don’t call me in the morning. We don’t want my wife getting wind of this dalliance. Even if it is just a blossoming friendship.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“I once was,” he confesses. “Now, I’m Irene’s full-time husband. I kind of like that job better.”
I shift again, tossing my head back because the pain shooting through my stomach has definitely moved to my chest.
The man next to me reaches for me. He rests his hand over my wrist. “Take a few deep breaths.”
I do that, but still feel discomfort, so I move to stand, but a sudden burst of dizziness takes hold of me, so I sit back down.
“You can thank me later for this, sweetheart.”
“For what?” I ask, as he pushes to his feet.
“This.” He turns toward the reception desk and yells out, “Help! We need help! She’s having a heart attack!”