Page 97 of A Really Bad Idea

“Don’t blame yourself. There’s no way you could have known it would lead to this.”

He wearily looks back at me. “Same for you. I know you think you should have had her treated earlier.”

I sigh heavily. “I can blame myself. I’m the only one in the family who works with hearts for a living.”

“You can only diagnose a willing patient. I love your mother, but forthcoming when it comes to her health she is not.” His eyes well up with tears he’s holding back.

“I know, Dad. Just hang in there, okay? I don’t need you getting stressed out and making yourself sick.”

“I won’t. I just don’t know what to do.”

“We sit.” I put my free hand out and lay it over Mom’s legs. Dad puts his free hand in mine. “We wait.”

I stay until Dad kicks me out at eleven. He says he has enough to worry about; he doesn’t need to add my sleeping in a wooden chair to the list. I relent and go home, hailing a cab.

Salvatore is at the door when I get to my building.

“How is your mother?” he asks as I walk in.

“Stable but good.” I reach inside my bag and take out a box of Good & Plenty.

He accepts it with a grin. “Going through a crazy time as you are, and you still think of an old man. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. How’s Carol?”

“Good. Everyone is good. We’re keeping your mother in our prayers. Dr. Gallagher said he’s performing the surgery. You’re lucky to be friends with a renowned surgeon.”

I peculiarly look at him. “When did you talk to Christian?”

Salvatore hit the call button. “When he arrived tonight. He said he has your spare key. I assumed that was okay.” His face twists into a grimace as he realizes he might not have been allowed to do that.

I don’t let him fret one second. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Sal.”

The elevator doors open, and I step inside, wondering why Christian is at my apartment when he’s supposed to be studying for my mother’s surgery.

When I get to my floor, I walk to my door with trepidation, hoping he doesn’t have terrible news and wants to tell me in person. The plethora of things he could say run through my mind so fast that I chase them away just as quick. No reason to worry about things that might be said when I’ll know in a moment.

I open the front door and look inside. The dining room light is on. Christian is sitting at the head of the table with books opened, a legal pad in front of him, and a laptop screen illuminated with a video of a heart surgery playing.

He hits the space bar to stop the video and rises from the table when he sees me.

I drop my bag on the counter and walk over to him. He’s still wearing his slacks, but his button-down and tie are on the chair, leaving him in a white undershirt. His hair is loose and wavy from his hands running through it. With the haphazard way he’s dressed and undressed, he looks disarming.

“What are you doing?” I ask with my attention fixed on the table where he’s been working.

“Looking at your mom’s angiogram to make sure I have the best pathway to her valve. I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

There’s a mug of coffee on the table and a half-eaten carton of grapes next to his files, which are laid out in neat piles on the table. “Looks like you’ve found your new study spot.”

He laughs at the absurdity. “Yeah. I didn’t know if you were staying at the hospital all night, but I figured I’d work here in case you came back and needed me.”

He runs a hand along the back of his head and bashfully looks up at me. I smash my lips together and try to hide my smile.

My shoulders rise with the rush of endearment I feel toward this man. “You knew I needed you.”

Those reserved eyes turn hopeful. “Was I right?”

“You’re the only person I want to be with right now.”