Except I never would have worked in a hospital like this.
If I’d taken my M.D. and done something with it, I would have gone somewhere with prestige. Maybe I would have done my residency in surgery.
Whatever that other future might have looked like, I have no doubts that I’m happier where I am, doing what I’m doing. Interacting with only the people that I have to. Choosing my own hours and avoiding bureaucracy. Nico and Dane handle all that, and my only job is to solve the problems, find the answers.
And that train of thought is why I’m thinking about the prototype for the self-cleaning sex toy cases when we walk into Mary Gerot’s hospital room.
“Mary,” Lucy breathes, the moment we step inside. The woman in the bed with the large belly looks up, makes eye contact with Lucy, and bursts into tears.
“Oh my god,” she says, as Lucy leans down and gives her a hug from the side. “Lucy, how the hell did you get here so fast? Mom and Dad aren’t even here yet.”
Lucy pulls back, sniffling. “Wow, don’t sound so happy to see me. Is everything…?”
“Just a little scare,” a balding, copper-haired man says from the corner, stepping forward. That must be her sister’s husband. Lucy’s brother-in-law.
During our week on the island, Lucy talked about her siblings. Rambled through the long list of them, from beginning to end. Enough for me to recognize that they were all religious names.
I should have been paying better attention. Should have made a note to commit those names to memory. If I don’t work at it, people slip in and out, my mind automatically assuming it’s not important information.
“You must be Elliot,” Nico says, stepping forward and offering his hand. His silk shirt hangs open in the front, andhis blonde hair is mussed from travel. He looks like he could be welcoming people into the Playboy mansion.
Lucy’s brother-in-law blinks at Nico, looks at the rest of us, and finally takes Nico’s hand. He’s clearly confused about why Lucy brought with her three men old enough to be her father, but to his credit, he doesn’t call it out.
“I am. Nice to meet you?—?”
“Nico,” he supplies, before gesturing to us. “And Dane, and Cole.”
“Shit, sorry,” Lucy sniffles from her place by the bed, running the back of her hand over her face. “I should have introduced everyone.”
Mary is staring at us with wide eyes, which dart quickly back and forth between Lucy and us. So, Lucy didnottell her sister about her new dating life, then.
“They weren’t real cramps, according to the doctor,” Elliot says, like he can forge through the awkwardness if he just continues talking. “But since her blood pressure has been high, and it spiked, we came in. They’re keeping her just a little longer to make sure the blood pressure thing is okay.”
I’m nodding, “Prodromal cramps. Very common.” The other three look at me, and I stiffly go on, wishing I hadn’t spoken at all. “They’re false labor cramps. Present in all pregnancies, even when the pregnant person doesn’t recognize them as such. Some believe they help to promote blood flow in the placenta.”
“Oh-kay,” Mary laughs, tearfully, and at least she’s not looking at us with abject horror anymore. Glancing up at Lucy, Mary says, “You didn’t tell me you were… friends with a doctor.”
Technically, I hold several doctorate degrees, but I don’t practice in medicine. I open my mouth to tell her that when the curtain just inside the door rustles to the side and a woman wearing a leaf-patterned long-sleeve shirt comes bursting inside.
“Oh—Mary!” she says, pushing right past Lucy and taking the patient in her arms. “Oh, goodness we came right as soon as we could. What did the doctor say? Are you going into early labor? I told you that twins do that…”
“Mom,” Mary says, pushing the woman off of her. “Relax, please. Breathe. Did you not notice?—”
It’s at this moment that their mother turns to the side andshriekswhen she sees Lucy, who looks startled but not surprised.
“Hey, mom,” Lucy says, her voice muffled as she’s quickly pulled into a hug. “I came as soon as I could.”
Their mother whirls around with the question on her lips ofhowshe could have possibly gotten here so fast, but before her gaze lands on us, someone else speaks.
A man who walked in after their mother, his hands in his pockets. His head gleams, and his brown eyes would be soulful if they weren’t full of suspicion.
“Who the hell are you?” he asks, collectively, to the three of us.
I’m usually a step behind in conversations. Typically, it takes me longer to read body language, if I’m able to do it at all.
But right now, with this man glowering at us, looking between Lucy and our group, it doesn’t take a social genius to know that things are not going to end well.
Chapter 34
