Best Dating Rules: A Romantic Comedy (The Best Girls Book 2) (15 page)

“Spencer? What’s wrong?”

“Uhmm. Well, this is a little weird. But Grace got a call that Emily was passed out at a bar, and we came to get her. We have her in a taxi, headed for home. But... Well, she isn’t waking up. So, do you want us to take her home or to your place or to the—”

Gherring interrupted. “Wait. Just a second.” Spencer heard muffled talking in the background and raised voices. “Spencer, thank you. I’m sorry to ask this. But will you please take her to the hospital. I’m on my way.” He heard arguing. “No, you’re not going. Don’t be ridiculous.” More muted words. “Okay. Okay. I’ll tell the doctor she’s never been drunk before. I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them. They’ll test her. They’ll do blood tests. They’ll figure out what she needs. You don’t need to come. Okay. Okay.”

Gherring groaned into the phone. “Spencer, we’re both coming. Thank you so much.”

Spencer told the taxi driver, “Okay. We need to go to the emergency room now.”

“Spencer? Is she breathing? I can’t tell.” Her voice was shrill.

“Quick! Lay her across my lap!” He bent over to feel for her breath and listen and watch to see her chest move.

“Drive faster! Grace, call nine-one-one, and tell them we’re coming.” His heart was hammering in his chest. Did he remember what to do? He gave her two quick breaths and felt for a pulse. Thready. Only a few beats. He moved awkwardly to crouch on the floorboard and lay her down onto the seat, attempting to do chest compressions. “Oh God! Please, help us! Hurry up! I don’t have enough room—I’m too big. I can’t remember how many I’m supposed to do.” Tears were pouring down his face now. He breathed into her mouth again. “I can’t even get her in the right position. I don’t know if it’s working.” He pushed desperately on her chest, trying to keep his balance as the taxi careened around corners and sped along the streets. Again and again he breathed into her still body, praying the air was going into her lungs, praying the taxi would hurry. Over and over he pushed on her chest, begging God to let her live, his tears dripping on her.

Suddenly the door opened and someone tried to take her body away from him. “No! She needs CPR!” He held onto her and tried to drag her back.

“Spencer, let them take her!” Grace cried, pulling his arms away. “They know what to do.”

“Oh God, Gracie!” He buried his face in her arms, sobbing. “I’ve lost her. I didn’t do it right—I couldn’t save her.”

The fierce hug Grace returned did little to calm his sense of desperation as Emily’s lifeless body wheeled into the emergency room.

Anne shuddere
d
, tamping down another wave of nausea while sitting in the cold sterile room staring at the machines and tubes that were connected to her daughter. Grace was slumped in sleep in the chair beside her. Spencer sat in the chair next to Emily’s hospital bed bent forward and resting his head on the metal railing. Four a.m., almost six hours since Spencer had called to give them the alarming news about Emily passing out at a bar. Arriving at the hospital in fifteen minutes, the scene awaiting them was even worse than they feared.

The emergency room doctor regurgitated mumbo-jumbo about her respiration being severely depressed, causing cardiac arrest... doctor-speak for “she quit breathing and her heart quit beating.” Why would a healthy twenty-four-year-old’s lungs and heart quit working? Drug overdose. Probably a combination of drugs and alcohol. Doctors restarted her heart and hooked her up to a respirator.

Then came the infuriating questions. Did Emily have a history of drug and alcohol abuse? Did she have problems with depression? Had she ever been hospitalized for drug or alcohol use? How much alcohol did she consume on a weekly basis?

But when the doctor recognized Steven, her words in Emily’s defense were suddenly more plausible. Yes, it was possible someone put something in her drink. Blood and urine samples were sent for analysis and the doctors performed gastric lavage, fancy words for pumping out her stomach. Steven insisted they call the police.

Charlie called on Emily’s phone, returning Emily’s earlier call. “If I had only answered my phone, I would have made her leave that place. I didn’t hear it ring, and I didn’t realize she’d called me until I got home. I should have talked her out of going in the first place.”

Anne felt equally guilty. “It’s not your fault, Charlie. She told me about it, too. She wasn’t interested in being talked out of it. For some reason she was determined to go out with this guy.”

“Mom, she wouldn’t have listened to you. But I might have been able to talk her out of it. I figured it was too late, since she didn’t call me until right before she left.”

Charlie booked a flight to New York in the morning. She insisted on coming, saying Emily would come for her.

Anne was emotionally and physically exhausted, but tried to hide the fatigue and the returning nausea from Steven. He was in power mode, ordering everyone around and using his considerable influence to make things happen. He was like a dictator—a well-meaning dictator, but a dictator nonetheless. If he suspected she wasn’t feeling well, he would send her home or simply check her into the hospital. She had no chance of winning an argument with him right now.

Steven marched into the room, surveying the surrounding scene.

Spencer stood, keeping his hand clasped around Emily’s limp one. “What happened? What did you find out from the police? Did they talk to Denning?”

Steven’s jaw muscles clenched. “Yes, they talked to him. They don’t think he did it. It wasn’t long from the time Becca sent you the picture until Denning called Grace. In his statement, he claimed she was acting really drunk when they were leaving. He said she complained about feeling bad, sat down, and passed out. They never even left the bar.”

“He was still a jerk. He didn’t even stay with her until we got there. He left her passed out on that chair.” Spencer released Emily’s hand, pacing with long strides while he pulled at his hair.. “I should never have left her there. She’s too naïve, and I thought he looked like a sleaze. But, I was so mad she lied to me.” He paused beside Anne’s chair. “That guy didn’t even know where she lived—she barely knew him. What was she doing anyway? Why would she go on a date with him?”

“I don’t know, Spencer. She’s normally mature and sensible. But every once in a while, she gets caught on some tangent. When that happens, she gets really stubborn, and no one seems to be able to talk sense into her.” What could she say to soothe his obviously raw feelings. “I hope you’ll give her a chance to explain... when she wakes up.”

He moved back to Emily’s side, gently lifting her hand while turning to face Steven. “If it wasn’t Denning, then who was it?”

“Denning swears she had a cup of coffee and a glass and a half of wine. He said she was perfectly fine until after she started drinking the second glass of wine.”

Anne said, “I can’t even believe she started a second glass. She usually has a strict limit of one, and that’s if she drinks anything at all.”

“She seems to have broken a number of her normal rules for this guy,” Spencer remarked sullenly.

Steven continued. “But the tests showed an extremely high level of this drug in her system. If it was all in the second drink, and she only drank half of it, someone must have spiked it with a huge amount of this Rohypnol. We’re lucky she only drank half of it. And the doctor said she probably won’t remember much—the drug gives you amnesia.”

“Spencer?” Anne pointed her chin at Grace, still sound asleep in her chair, with her head cocked at a strange angle. “Why don’t you go home and take Grace? You’ve done so much.”

“Yes, Spencer.” Steven moved to grasp his shoulder. “The doctor’s tell me you probably saved her life with the CPR in the taxi.”

He slumped into the chair beside Emily, shaking his head miserably. “No. I could barely remember what to do. I don’t even know if I got any air into her lungs, and I couldn’t get enough room to do the chest compressions the way I needed to.”

“You did the best you could, and she’s probably alive because of you.”

“But we won’t even know if she’s okay until she wakes up.” His eyes dropped to his lap. “I was so mad, I wanted to drop her off at her apartment. I thought she was drunk. It was Grace who said it might be something more. It was Grace who made me call you.”

Steven glanced at her contorted form. “Then we’re thankful to Grace as well. But you really should take her home and get some sleep.”

“No, thank you. I want to stay until Emily wakes up. I have to. I can’t leave until I see her awake.”

Steven opened his mouth to object, but Anne caught his eye and silently bid him to her side. She whispered in his ear, “Let him stay. He needs to stay. Let’s send Grace home.”

Nodding, he roused Grace and guided her half-sleeping form down the elevator to be driven home. Meanwhile Spencer kept his bedside vigil with his head on the bedrail and his hand firmly clasping Emily’s. Steven returned to the room and collapsed into the chair beside Anne. She reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Thank you. I’m glad I’m not doing this by myself. I’m glad we have you.” With a weak smile she added, “Welcome to fatherhood.”

He heaved a heavy breath. “I don’t much care for this hospital stuff. Between you and Emily, it’s becoming way too frequent for my taste.”

“Mine, too. When did they say she’d wake up?”

“They can’t be sure. It doesn’t usually progress all the way to cardiac arrest like hers did, so they have a hard time predicting.”

Anne felt fresh tears forming and blinked hard. “But she will wake up, right? And they don’t think her brain went without oxygen?” She saw Spencer raise his head, hanging on Steven’s reply.

He paused, obviously thinking carefully before he spoke. “The doctors refuse to make promises, but it’s very unlikely she’ll have any permanent damage from a single incident. On the other hand, she’ll likely be very confused, and she’ll probably have a really bad headache and nausea. And that can last up to forty-eight hours.”

Anne swallowed hard. She wanted assurances not probabilities.

He said, “Look, I know you don’t like that answer, but it’s the best one I’ve been able to get. At least she’s breathing on her own now. That’s a good sign, and she won’t be terrified, waking up on a ventilator.”

“You’re right. I need to be thankful for every positive thing instead of worrying about the things I can’t change.”

She felt his eyes looking her over. “I know you’re exhausted. We all are. You won’t be able to stay up here all day tomorrow. Not unless you want to end up in the hospital yourself.”

“But I have to be here for her.”

“You can stay until she wakes up. But then I’m sending you home so Connie can take care of you.” Squinting his eyes, he added, “And don’t think I’m unaware you’re already feeling sick. I should probably check you into your own room.”

As Anne was formulating a counterargument in her head, Spencer stood to lean across the bedrail. “She’s moving, and her eyes are blinking. I think she’s waking up.”

Emily had never felt so sick in her life. Her head pounded, and a blinding light assaulted her eyes. She struggled to open them, but it hurt too much. She could hear voices, vaguely familiar. Someone squeezed her hand. A heavy fog dragged her down. She willed herself to wake up. Her eyes squinted open slightly. Was that Spencer? Where was she? What was wrong with her? Why didn’t her body work right?

She blinked her eyes open again. Her mother’s face floated into her vision. Why was her mom here? Where was she? Turning her head to the side, millimeter by millimeter, she saw Steven and Spencer. Both wore frowns. Her mother’s voice was in her ear.

“—hurt anywhere? How do you feel?”

She drifted into oblivion.

Prying her eyes open, she felt a hand squeezing hers and gazed up into her mother’s eyes.

“What happened to me?” her voiced croaked. Her mother held a straw to her lips. Cool water soothed her parched throat. “Thanks. My head hurts.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“No… Wait...” Her mind struggled to retrieve the muddled details. “I’m in the hospital. Was Spencer here?” She gazed around the empty room.

“He was here. Yes, he stayed until you woke up.”

“What happened to me?”

“You remember going to a bar with Asher Denning?”

The painful details of the evening trickled into her head, driving salty tears to pool and drip down her face. “Oh Mom, Spencer was there. It was awful. I knew I shouldn’t have lied to him. I feel terrible.”

Anne’s face was grim. “I wish now I’d tried to talk you out of it.”

“But he was here? Is he mad at me? What am I saying? Of course he’s mad.” She wiped her damp face with the back of her hand.

“He saved your life.”

“What? How did he do that? What happened?”

“Try to remember.”

She forced herself to replay the uncomfortable evening in her mind. “He saw me and left at the very beginning. He was with Grace. She tried to warn me, but it was too late.”

“Then what happened?”

“I stayed with Asher and met a couple of his friends and listened to music.”

“What did you drink?”

“Uhmm, a café mocha. And then Asher bought me a glass of wine. I was so stressed I decided to drink it. But I didn’t feel any better.”

“When did you call Charlie?”

“Oh yeah. I went to the bathroom and called Charlie, but she didn’t answer. How did you know I called her?”

“She called back. She’s on her way here.”

“She’s flying here? And I almost died? Was there a car accident?” She ached all over, but she didn’t feel like anything was broken.

“You drank something with drugs in it.”

“What? Who put drugs in my drink? Asher?”

“We don’t think it was him. What happened after you called Charlie?”

“There was another glass of wine on the table when I came back. I knew I shouldn’t drink more than one, but I was feeling so depressed I drank some anyway. And then I remember feeling sleepy. That’s it. That’s the last thing I remember. What happened?”

“You evidently passed out, and Asher called Grace to come take you home.”

“Why didn’t Asher take me home?”

“He didn’t know where you lived.”

“Oh. That’s right.” She cringed. “And Grace came to get me?”

“Grace and Spencer came to get you. Apparently, Asher was already gone. He left you there, asleep.”

“Wow—great guy. I sure can pick ‘em.”

“You wouldn’t wake up, so Spencer called us when they had you in the taxi. They were taking you to the hospital when you quit breathing.”

“I quit breathing?”

“And your heart stopped, too.” Tears were rolling freely down her mom’s face. “And Spencer did CPR in the back seat of the taxi until they got to the emergency room.”

Emily suppressed a sob, as she clung to her mom. “I really almost died?”

“Yes, we nearly lost you. But Spencer probably saved your life. And then he sat beside you all night, holding your hand. Waiting for you to wake up.”

“I thought I saw him for a minute. I thought I imagined it.”

Anne shook her head, sniffing. “No, you probably saw him when you first woke up. But once he knew you were okay, he left. I... I don’t think he wants to talk to you. He was pretty hurt.”

“That’s okay,” said Emily. “I don’t deserve him anyway.” She turned her head away, tears dropping onto her pillow.

“Emily... Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t. I really don’t. I really want to go to sleep and wake up and find out this was all a bad dream. Talking about it makes it seem too real. I... I almost wish he hadn’t saved me.”