When dessert arrived I picked up my fork but didn’t take a bite. The delicate slices of flourless chocolate cake drizzled with raspberry coulis looked delicious, but my stomach turned at the sight of it.
Instead, I sneaked another glance at my phone, the screen glowing in my lap. Still no new texts. No missed calls. Nothing but the silence of a man who had promised to keep me updated.
I had to grip the fork tighter just to keep from shaking. I pressed its tines into the cake, dragging it in circles until the raspberry sauce bled across the plate. My dessert remained untouched, my appetite lost.
All I could do was sit there, smile faintly when someone glanced my way, and stare at the phone that refused to light up.
6
ETHAN
The ticking of the wall clock was getting to me. More than an hour had passed since they did an EKG. Fifty-three minutes since they drew my mother’s blood. Nobody had come in to check on her again, and I’d stalked back and forth in the narrow space of the exam room so much that my feet had started to ache.
“How long does it take to read a damn EKG?” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. “You’d think they would move faster when someone might be having a heart attack.”
My mother sighed delicately from the exam bed. “Patience, Ethan. I’m sure they’re just being thorough. Good care takes time.” She reached out to pat my hand, her manicured nails gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “And having you here makes me feel so much better. I’m sure they’ll take good care of me now, with you at my side.”
Her words should’ve soothed me, but something about them hit wrong. Like she wasn’t as scared as she should’ve been under the circumstances.
The machine they had her hooked up to beeped steadily. Her color was fine, and if not for the hospital gown, she could’vepassed for someone on their way out for dinner with her hair set and makeup flawless.
I sat down in the chair beside her. “I was so worried earlier, I didn’t think to ask what you were doing when the pain started.”
“Oh, just the usual. Having herbal tea while I put on one of my shows. Then I felt this dreadful pressure in my chest and a flutter in my arm.” She sniffled and patted the corner of her eye with a tissue. “I—I was so scared, I called you right away.”
My brows drew together. “You called me first? Not 9-1-1?”
“Well, yes,” she drawled, as if it were obvious. “I wanted you to know what was happening. You’re my son, Ethan. Who else would I call?”
Someone who could actually save your life.
I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing the thought. Sharing it out loud would do me no good, so I stood again, too restless to sit still. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the closed curtain that separated us from the hallway. The faint sounds of gurneys and voices drifted through. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped.
“Would you mind, darling?” I glanced at her over my shoulder, and she shifted slightly on the bed, pointing at her purse. “My compact is in there. I must look ghastly.”
I blinked. “You’re in the ER.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep up appearances.” She smiled faintly. “It’s always important to look your best, even in the hospital.”
The curtain swished open at last, and a doctor stepped inside. He couldn’t have been much older than me—mid-thirties with a calm face and dark-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose.
“Mrs. Prescott?” His tone was polite but brisk. “I’m Dr. Kirk. I have your EKG and lab results.”
My mother straightened immediately, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Oh, thank goodness. It’s been such a frightening ordeal.”
“I—”
Before he could finish, she waved a hand toward me. “My son doesn’t need to stay for this part. My medical information is private.”
I was headed to her side but froze mid-step. “What?”
“It’s not appropriate, Ethan.” On the surface, her tone was sweet, but there was an edge beneath it. “You shouldn’t hear the details of my—condition.”
Dr. Kirk’s brows lifted. “Mrs. Prescott, when your son arrived, he presented us with power of attorney paperwork, including the ability to make medical decisions for you if you become unable to communicate them yourself.”
Her mouth tightened. “As you can see, I’m perfectly able to communicate my needs without my son’s help.”
My patience snapped, a low burn of disbelief in my gut.
