I nod because I don’t know what to say—the welling of emotion inside of me is still so strong I fear I might break apart if I open my mouth.
“Earlier, the doctor asked if I was in love with a caveman.” She smiles faintly.
The nurse in attendance laughs softly.
“I’m an idiot for taking you out there. I’m sorry, Cat.”
“You saved my life, Connor. Thank you.”
There were moments when I thought I had lost her. My world felt like it was ending. I can’t forgive myself.
“Everything looks good,” the nurse says. “The doctor will be in soon.”
The same surgeon I met earlier sweeps the curtains aside. “I’m Dr. Bradshaw. Our ballerina here is a very lucky lady. I’m going to explain the diagnosis and what transpired, but first, I have a few questions. You up for it?”
Cateline nods, her eyes widening with attention.
Dr. Bradshaw glances over at me as though noticing me for the first time. “Are you the same guy I met earlier?” He points in the direction of the waiting area.
“Yes, sir. I’m Connor Wolfe.” I extend my hand to shake. “Thank you for everything, sir.” Even though I speak with feeling, the words aren’t sufficient for the doctor’s service.
“You took my recommendation for a shower very seriously. Nice to see you again in your improved state.” He doesn’t come off as insulting but rather relieved that he’s not dealing with an actual beast, or leaving someone as perfect as Cateline in its care.
Color rises on her cheeks as if she appreciates it too.
“Miss Berghier, I understand you grew up in France. When you were a child, did you have frequent sore throats or cases of strep? In rare instances, these can lead to heart murmurs, which can cause different issues within the organ.”
“I did have sore throats, yes. I’m not sure the word for strep, though.”
I do a quick search on my phone and show her the translation. I’d tease her all day for not knowing the expressionguinea pigs, but there is nothing funny about this.
“Yes. I do recall having that.”
“Does rheumatic fever mean anything to you?” The doctor explains, while I look up that translation as well.
For the next few minutes, the doctor explains that she experienced a problem with an artery, preventing adequate blood flow. “Your records indicate, and your account of what happened maintains, that you had no knowledge of a preexisting condition. You are otherwise in excellent shape health-wise, so, understandably, you’d not be aware. To that end, you’re lucky because the procedure we performed was minimally invasive.”
I exhale a long breath.
“I have to ask, have you been experiencing irregular heartbeats or shortness of breath? Anything like that?” the doctor asks.
“Yes. I thought it was stress and maybe my heart trying to tell me something.” Her gaze lands on me. It’s soft and full of feeling.
“Further testing will confirm my suspicions, but I think what we’re dealing with developed over a long period of time, perhaps starting with a case of strep. It’s rare, especially here in the United States, but since you didn’t grow up here, I can’t speak for all communities’ prevention and treatment protocols.”
“Will I be able to dance again?” Cateline asks.
My eyebrows lift with surprise.
The doctor pats her leg. “Absolutely. Your heart is going to be as strong as ever. Another day recovering here and then you’ll gradually work your way back up with increased movement and exercise. You’re young and otherwise healthy, so I imagine you should be feeling relatively back to normal in another couple of weeks.”
“Thank you, Dr. Bradshaw,” Cateline says.
I get to my feet and shake the doctor’s hand before stepping outside the curtain.
“You want to know if she’ll be okay?” Dr. Bradshaw asks.
Scrubbing my hand through my hair, I nod.
