“What time do you make rounds?” Zack asked.
“Usually at six thirty in the morning. But she’ll be in ICU for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” He turns to leave.
“One more question, Doctor. Do you know when the hip surgery is starting?” Zack asks. “I believe the orthopedic surgeon said it would take two to four hours.”
The cardiologist nods. “He was scrubbing in as I left, so it should be getting under way now.”
“Thank you,” Zack says.
“My pleasure.” Dr. McFadden shakes Zack’s hand. “I wish you and your grandmother the best of luck.” The doctor shakes my hand almost as an afterthought before he walks away.
“He thinks Margaret’s your grandmother,” I say, feeling a little slighted.
“Sorry.” Zack’s eyes—good grief, they look so much like Lily’s—are apologetic. “I didn’t mean to butt in, but those were the kinds of questions I wish I’d asked when my mom was in surgery.”
It’s hard to argue with that, even though a part of me would like to. Ever since I realized who he was, I’ve been filled with anxiety. What was Miss Margaret thinking, contacting a registry to find him? Brooke hadn’t wanted the sperm donor to play any role in Lily’s life.
And Lily’s life isn’t the only place he doesn’t belong. He sure as hell doesn’t belong in mine. My stomach pitches with nausea.
He gazes at me intently. His dark brows pull together. “Are you okay?”
Damn it, he doesn’t seem to miss a thing—and I have one of those faces that shows everything I’m feeling. Morning sickness just started making an appearance this week, and it isn’t limited to just mornings. The last thing I want to do is tell him I’m pregnant, though. I sink down on a bench in the hallway. “I think I need to eat something,” I say. “I sometimes start feeling bad when my blood sugar gets low.”
He sits down beside me. “Are you diabetic?”
“No, nothing like that.” I dig a half-eaten energy bar out of my purse. “But stress and hunger are a bad combination for me.”
“Well, let’s go to the cafeteria,” he says. “We have at least two hours before we can expect to hear anything.”
I balk at spending more time with him. “Don’t you have someplace you need to be?” As I say it, I hear how ungracious it sounds. “I mean, you don’t have to stay here. I appreciate all you’ve done, but this really isn’t your problem.”
“It feels like it is,” he says. “Maybe my showing up brought it on.”
Part of me wants to agree.I’dnearly had a heart attack when I learned Lily’s father was standing on the doorstep. But then, Margaret had initiated contact with him, so it couldn’t have been a total surprise to her.
I take a bite of the energy bar. As much as I want to blame him, it’s unfair to let him blame himself.
“Margaret was under the weather before you arrived,” I say. “In fact, she lost her balance and fell earlier this morning.”
“She did?”
I nod. “She didn’t fall from a height and she landed on thick carpeting, so she wasn’t hurt. But still, it was unlike her.”
“What was she doing on that step stool in the kitchen?”
“She was getting down the good crystal for your water.”
“Why?”
A wry grin pulls at my mouth. “You’re not from the South, are you?”
He shakes his head. “Ohio.”
“Well, down here, it’s what ladies of her generation do for company.”
“Oh, good grief! I thought she’d just bring me a plastic bottle.”
The truth is, I’d thought that, too—which indicates I hadn’t really given it any thought at all. If I had, I wouldn’t have let her go into the kitchen alone, no matter how insistent she’d been.
