I sit on my bed with my head in my hands. “I’m not sure if I’m able to.”
“You don’t have a choice. This isn’t about you.”
Damn it. He’s right.
“Let’s go, I’ll take you.”
“You?”
“I promised her,” he says, lowering his gaze. “I promised her I would be at your side and that’s where I’m going to be. So move your ass and let’s go to your woman.”
That’s right.My woman.
I pull a hoodie out of a pile and button my jeans. We go downstairs, I flip on my shoes and we head out.
I’m going to my woman.
I’m going because I promised I would always be there no matter what. And I keep my word.
It takes about twenty minutes to get to the hospital. I think I’ve aged about ten years. Patrick is a fucking bastard. He drives like a psychopath but I confess at the moment, it’s serving me well. I hope when he’s driving his family someplace he takes more care than this.
We go to reception and ask where her room is. The nurse at the reception desk informs us that it’s not visiting hours and that we can’t go up there now.
“Hey!” Patrick says forcefully. “This asshole is here to see his woman who is about to have a heart operation. He needs to tell her that he loves her and that everything’s going to be fine. He needs to be there, okay? I don’t give a shit about your visiting hours, she needs him to be here for her.”
I look at him in silent wonder. Patrick sure does have some hidden talents.
“And now tell us the damn room number before we turn this place upside down!”
The woman looks at her co-worker, who makes a small nod with her head and then lets us know it’s room number 122 on the third floor.
I don’t even look at the escalator, I run up the stairs two at a time with my heart that feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest.
I need another look, another smile, another caress.
I need another kiss.
I need another minute with her.
We run along the hallway and someone is yelling at us but Patrick gives whoever it is the finger.
I think they’re going to physically boot us out of here.
When I get there I see her father outside of the room hugging a woman who I think must be her mother.
“Joe!” I yell, before reaching him.
He turns to me and my heart stops beating.
He’s crying.
“What is it?”
“They’re going to do the operation tomorrow morning,” he tells me, easing out of his hug and putting a hand on my back. “They’re just doing the final pre-op tests.”
“Where…please tell me.”
“I don’t know exactly. On the first floor, I think. But we can’t go there, we have to wait in the waiting room.”
