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By the time Meghan had found everything she needed and zipped the bag up, she heard the apartment door open. There was the low murmur of voices, and Gloria’s higher pitch. One of the paramedics was kneeling down in front of her, the other talking to Rich.
“We’re going to wheel you down on a gurney,” the first paramedic told Gloria. “Until we get your heart under control we need you to stay safe and not fall. We don’t want any broken bones to deal with.”
Gloria nodded, and they worked quick to get her situated for transport. In no time the five of them were headed down in the elevator, the paramedics wheeling her out to the ambulance as Meghan passed Gloria’s bag to Rich. “Shall I follow in my car?”
He shook his head. “You’ve had wine. And there’s no point. I’ll call you if there’s any change.”
“Is it bad?”
He pulled his lip between his teeth. “I think it’s atrial fibrillation. But we’ll have to wait for test results to rule everything else out.”
“Everything else?”
“Heart attack. Stroke. Or possibly heart failure.” He blew out a mouthful of air. “Those are worst case scenarios.”
“We’re ready to go,” the paramedic called out. Rich nodded and glanced at Meghan.
“Call me when you get a chance.”
He ran his fingertip over her cheekbone. “Get some sleep. I’ll let you know how she is in the morning.”
Then he was climbing into the ambulance, talking with the paramedic, and Meghan crossed her arms over her body, watching it pull away.
17
Meghan was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her, a cold cup of coffee cradled in her hands when the sound of the elevator cut through the silence of her apartment. It was still dark outside her window, though the nature of the light was changing, more of an inky blue than black as the sun began to rise.
A slow rap of knuckles came from the door.
She uncrossed her legs, wincing at the stiffness of her muscles, and walked across the apartment, pulling the door open to see Rich standing there.
There were shadows beneath his eyes. His hair was mussed up. And when his gaze met hers she saw a blankness there she hadn’t seen before.
“How is Gloria? Is she still there?” Meghan asked.
He nodded. “She’s stable. They’ve moved her to a ward.”
“Do you want to come in?” She inclined her head at her living room. “I can make you a drink or something to eat?”
“I don’t know.” His brows pinched. “I should sleep, but I don’t think I can.”
“Nor can I.”
He followed her into her apartment, his breathing soft as she led him to the kitchen. She slid a capsule into her coffee machine, then grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator. “Do you know what caused her fall?” she asked. Rich was slumped against the kitchen counter.
“I was right. It was atrial fibrillation. They’re putting her on some medication and will be keeping her for a day or two. But they’re talking about putting a pacemaker in.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I should have known this was happening. If I’d just paid more attention to her.”
“How could you have known?” Meghan asked gently. “She never said anything. I saw her yesterday morning and she was fine. Or at least she said she was.”
He shook his head. “Turns out she’s been feeling off for days.”
Meghan walked across the kitchen, taking his hand between her own. “You didn’t know,” she told him again. “It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
She reached up, cupping his jaw between her warm palms. Rich swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his eyes heavy lidded as he looked down at her. She hated the exhaustion she saw in the depths.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, tracing his jaw with the pad of her thumb. “It’s not your fault. You saved her. She’s in the right place now.”
