That did not answer my question.
“I haven’t had time to read it all.” I mean, there were like a thousand pages to the document.
“You don’t need to read the whole thing.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course I do.” There could be small print in there promising him things I’ve no intention of agreeing to. “Who knows what you put in there.”
“I—” He blinks. “I wouldn’t try to trick you.”
“Uh-huh.” I cross my arms over my chest and wince. I think I hurt my arm.
“You okay?” He sounds like he cares.
Gah. He’s so confusing. “I’m fine.” Sighing, I relax my shoulders. “I’ll read it this weekend. Okay?”
“Good.” He nods. “Yes.”
“Well.” I look at the ground. “Good luck with your job, I guess.”
“Thanks. You too.”
Turning, I look right, then left, then down so I don’t hit another patch of ice, and step gingerly across the street to the sidewalk. I do my best not to look back, but when I get to the flower shop, I glance back as I reach for the handle. That shot of disappointment hits me again when I see he’s already back in his pickup. Half of me was hoping he was watching out for me. He wasn’t.
Why would he?
* * *
“Robin?”I yell from the bathroom at the store.
“Yeah?” she shouts back.
I stare down at my panties, and god, I’m terrified. “I’m bleeding.” Maybe the fall in the street earlier did hurt the baby. What if… “Robin!” This time I shout so loudly it makes my head hurt. “I’m bleeding!” Now, I’m screeching.
The bathroom door flies open. Robin and Gus are both there, staring down at me as I sit on the toilet. “I heard you, hon.” She steps in with Gus right behind. Looking down, she sees what I see. “You fell. It’s probably nothing.” I can tell she’s doing her best to reassure me, but the shake in her voice tells me she’s just as worried as I am. “We could call an ambulance, or Gus’s car is right outside the door.”
“Gus.” I say, standing and pulling up my underwear and leggings as I go.
“Get your shit. We’ll head to Chicago Hospital.” Gus’s voice sounds commanding, like he’s not about to fail this mission.
“MedOne is closer,” Robin says as she reaches for my coat.
“MedOne’s shit, babe. We need to take her to Chicago Hospital.” He looks at me and smiles. “I’ve got you, darlin’. I’ll get you there fast.”
I’ve ridden with Gus before. He drives like a bat out of hell on a normal day. “Okay.”
Before I know it, I’m lying in the backseat of Gus’s huge SUV. I guess a guy his size needs a car to match. Robin’s in the passenger seat with her arm over the top, holding onto my hand. It’s comforting, for sure.
“It’s going to be fine. Nothing to worry about. I’m sure it’s just spotting. I’ve read about it. It’s common.”
Who do you think said all that? Robin? Nope. It was Gus.
“Okay.” Not going to lie. His words are reassuring.
Another thing Gus is right about: he’s at Chicago Hospital’s ER before we know it. Gus is at my door with a hand out before I’ve even pushed myself up to sit. “Grab a wheelchair, babe,” he says to Robin.
“On it.”
In minutes, I’m seated and being wheeled to the emergency check-in desk. Robin does most of the talking because I can’t seem to figure out what to say and Gus is parking the car. Just as the clerk is about to tell us to take a seat, Gus appears. To say the man is intimidating is an understatement, because the second he hears “Please take a seat,” Gus’s voice gets deep and calm. Scarily calm. “This is an emergency.”
