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The receptionist glared at him as she reached for the phone. Zane scanned for a doctor, a nurse, anyone other than this fucking imbecile who seemed intent on doing the shittiest job she could with a woman in serious crisis right in front of her. He spotted a couple of doctors conversing, plastic cups of coffee in hand. Taking matters into his own hands, he barged through the line of people who scattered to avoid being mown down.
“Please, help me.”
One doctor glanced up as Zane approached, took one look at Lori, and snapped, “Follow me.”
“She had a heart transplant. Thirteen years ago.”
The doctor burst through a door, and Zane laid Lori on a gurney.
“She’s having trouble breathing. She just went still, then white, and then she started sweating, and now she can’t breathe properly. Please, help her.”
More medical staff arrived. Zane raked his hands through his hair. Someone must have pressed a button or something, or they had sixth sense and detected an emergency because all of a sudden the place was swarming with doctors and nurses. One of the nurses took his arm.
“Come with me.”
He shook her off. “No. I have to be with Lori.”
“You can’t be in here, sir. We’ll take good care of her. Please, the best way you can help her is to come with me and tell me everything you know about her condition.”
His feet felt stuck to the floor, but somehow, he staggered over to a row of chairs, flopping into the first one he came to. The nurse sat beside him and pulled out a pen.
And that was when the true horror hit him. He didn’t have the details she’d asked for. He didn’t know who her cardiologist was, or what pills she was taking, or where her transplant had taken place. He was helpless to help her.
“Call her parents,” he whispered.
Maisie and Jim raced toward him, and the relief coupled with remorse that he’d let down their daughter so badly buckled his knees as he tried to stand. He shoved the guilt to one side and managed to stand.
“Oh, Zane.”
Maisie enveloped him in a hug he didn’t deserve. Her hair smelled like Lori’s, and a random thought that they must use the same shampoo stole into his mind. Hot tears pricked the backs of his eyes at the thought.
“Maisie, Jim. God, I’m so sorry.”
“What for?” She didn’t let him answer. “Where’s the doctor? Jim, find the doctor. I want to see my daughter.”
“She was so pale, so cold. She was shivering yet sweating. And she couldn’t breathe very well.”
Zane rambled on and on, fearing he was making little sense, but his brain was spaghetti drenched in tomato sauce.
“God, Maisie.” He covered his face with his hands, hiding his failure.
He’d neglected Lori. Neglected her special needs. Listened to her reassurances that she was fine, healthy, that he needn’t worry. It was typical Lori behavior, and he’d fallen for it.
Well, no more.
Once she recovered, everything would change. He’d make sure of it. No more gallivanting around the city. No more late nights fulfilling Dayton’s every wish. And if that lost them both a lucrative contract, then so be it. What good was money without the woman he loved to lavish it on?
Maisie rubbed his back, comforting him when he should be the one comforting her. He’d failed Lori on so many levels. If she… if she didn’t… God forgive him. Because he’d never forgive himself.
Jim turned up with the first doctor Zane had handed Lori over to in tow. Zane read both their expressions for hints, to prepare himself for bad news. Neither gave anything away. He staggered to his feet, swaying. His legs were twigs about to snap. Maisie stood, too, but she held herself with far more poise.
“Mrs. James.” The doctor shook Maisie’s hand.
“How is she?” Maisie asked. “Can I see her?”
“She’s stable. We’ve put her on oxygen, and she’s breathing easier, and the palpitations she was experiencing have reduced somewhat. I’ve called her cardiologist, and he should be here any minute.”
She’s stable. What the fuck did that even mean? Questions coursed through his mind, but they were all jumbled up. Focus on the positives. He said her breathing was easier, and her specialist would know what to do. He had to know what to do.
