How to Date a Millionaire (13 page)

Finally, finally, finally, in the early hours of the morning, we land at the small airport we'd departed from a week ago, just twenty kilometres outside Manhattan. Another two town cars are waiting for us – one to take Holly, Dad, Dr Reid and Monica to the hospital and one to take Alexa and Nat home. There isn't enough room for me to go with Holly and her entourage, so I tell her I'll drop Alexa and Nat home and then head back uptown to Mount Sinai.

Within an hour and a half we've navigated the circuit and the driver is pulling over on Fifth Avenue, in front of the hospital, and wishing me (well, Holly, really) good luck.

I manage to locate Holly's room with a minimum of fuss and, when I get there, Dr Reid is just leaving. Holly
and Dad are busy kissing his feet (maybe I should line up? I'm sure they'd be tasty!) for being so good to them the entire trip and for schlepping it over to Manhattan only to have to turn around and go home again. In the meantime, Dr Meyers is busy running a few tests. I take a seat and start reading a newspaper from Holly's bedside table. And everything is fine … for about half an hour.

Until everything that Holly said would happen begins to happen.

Her blood pressure shoots up again. Right up this time. And, along with this, B's heart rate drops slightly.

Apparently it's all Dr Meyers needs to wake him up this early in the day, because, suddenly, it's like being in the middle of one of the bad episodes of
ER
. You know, one of those ones where they have one of their ‘incidents' going on. Like a gas explosion, a freaky mental patient on the loose with an Uzi, or a doctor who hasn't had enough coffee before midday.

The sides are taken up on Holly's bed and she's wheeled out of the room by two orderlies who are going to take her to get prepped for an emergency caesarean.

‘Wait a second!' she tells them as she passes me by, just as she's exiting the doorway.

I bend down to give her a kiss.

‘Told you so!' she says. ‘You'll be a big sister before midday.'

‘And you'll be a mum,' I say back, my eyes wide. ‘Well, a mom, anyway. Good luck!'

Holly laughs. ‘I love it when people say that to me just before I get a big, fat needle in my spine. See you soon, sweetie.'

I give her another quick kiss. ‘I'll be waiting.'

And then I watch as the orderlies wheel Holly off down the long, empty corridor.

It's only when I see her bed being pushed through a double swinging door and she leaves my sight that I realise my dad's not with her. ‘Dad?' I turn around.

He's standing right behind me. Kind of a shocked look on his face. Kind of a shocked ‘I'm in real shock here' look that says ‘I'm going from being a dad of one to a dad of three'.

Poor guy. Maybe I should have taken it easier on him all these years.

Nah.

That wouldn't have been fun at all, would it?

‘Dad?' I tug on his arm. He doesn't move.

‘Professor Mulholland? If you come with me, we'll find you a gown.' The nice nurse who's been looking after us gives me a knowing look and takes his arm. She leads him down the hallway slowly like he's ninety-five years old.

‘Yes, a gown,' he says, as they take things step by step. ‘We're having twins.'

‘Mmmmm,' the nurse replies. ‘I know.'

Maybe I shouldn't have said ‘good luck' to Holly after all. I think it's Dad who needs the luck. And probably the painkillers too.

More waiting. I hang out in Holly's room and wait, then wait some more. I call Marc, still in LA, who says he's got some things to sort out if he's going to be able to come back home for a week or so, but will get on the red-eye tonight and be here in the morning. Then I wait a bit more again. And some more. Finally, finally, finally (everything seems to be taking three ‘finallys' when it comes to B and G), the nice nurse comes back and tells me Holly's
asking for me in recovery. She leads me down the same hallway Holly had travelled down before, but stops at a different set of double swinging doors and leads me inside to a room full of screened-off cubicles.

‘Here she is,' she says, pulling back one curtain, ushering me inside and then pulling it back again to give us some privacy.

Oh.

My face falls instantly. ‘What's wrong?' I ask Dad and Holly. ‘Where are the babies?' They're not there. And, instantly, in big sister mode, I start to panic.

Dad stands up quickly, still holding Holly's hand. ‘No, no, it's all right, sweetheart. Everything's fine. B had a tiny bit of trouble breathing at first, so they've taken them both off to the NICU for a couple hours, just to be sure.'

‘Oh.' I can't believe how disappointed I am. But then I see Holly's white face and forget what I'm feeling. I go over and give her the best hug I can around all her tubes and things. ‘Did you get to hold them?'

Holly nods, smiling. ‘They're gorgeous.'

‘They both look like Holly. Even B,' Dad says. ‘Thank God.'

‘Hey!' I turn around and give him a playful whack on the arm. If I look like either of my parents, I look like my dad.

‘Sorry.'

I give him my best ‘thanks for nothing, Dad' look and then turn back to Holly … who, within seconds, has managed to fall sound asleep.

‘Did they give her a lot of drugs?' I ask him.

But my dad shakes his head. ‘Just the spinal, but she's tired,' he says. ‘She didn't sleep well on the plane and she didn't sleep well the night before, either. And then, of course, there was all this excitement about that screenplay. You haven't really told me anything about that, Nessa.'

Oh, um, yeah. My eyes try to meet his and fail. ‘Maybe you'd better save all that parenting for your other two kids. I mean, you must be tired too. And I wouldn't want to wear you out.'

‘Nessa Joanne Mulholland.'

‘Mmm?'

‘I'll get back to you later. Right now, I think we're all tired. They'll take Holly back to her room soon and I'll have a sleep there too. Did you manage to get on to Marc?'

I nod, grateful for the change in topic. ‘He's coming in the morning.'

‘Good, well why don't you go home and get some sleep, meet Marc in the morning and come in together? Give me a call before you come in and I'll let you know if Holly needs anything brought in. I'm sure she will.'

I want to argue that I want to stay and see B and G as soon as I can, but then I take another look at Holly, who obviously needs her sleep, and my dad, who's red-eyed and about to stop making sense any second now, and I'm already yawning.

Home it is.

I get a cab home and, still yawning, text Alexa on the way.

It's weird walking back into the apartment. The bags are all waiting in the entryway, left there by the doorman, but other than that, everything looks exactly the same.

But also strangely different.

It's like everything's changed, even though nothing's changed and it takes me a while to work out what's going on and why I'm feeling this way.

It's me. It's
me
who's changed. That's what feels different.

Slowly, I walk across the vast expanse of floor to my room, touching things here and there. When I get there, I open the door and look around. Again, the same. But different. I can't stop thinking that when I left here, rushing out the door, not being able to wait to start my Hawaii by pj yay break, so much would have changed when I walked back in that door again only a week later. That I'd be a big sister. That I'd have added another guy to my sad gas pump jockey list.

I pause and ask myself something then – if I'd known all of this, would I have still gone?

I know the answer instantly: yes.

In some ways, the Seth thing has been good for me. A good lesson to learn. I'd understood what Holly was talking about when she gave me that ‘sifting through the trash to find the treasure' talk. I knew what she meant, but I hadn't truly lived it. Not until Seth came along. I hadn't really been hurt until then. Well, now I have. And maybe
one day I'll be able to put Holly's words into practice. Just not right now. I really liked Seth. A lot. And it kills me that he turned out to be … well, trash.

The thing is, I don't know if I can do the Holly thing. The keeping on sifting thing. It's too hard. Too painful. And, anyway, things have really changed now. I'll have other things to do, won't I? Home stuff. B and G stuff.

Oh my God. I'm a big sister.

I keep forgetting that.

I cross my room and lie down on my bed, trying to forget Seth, turning my thoughts to B and G once more. I simply can't wait to see them. I glance over at my clock. I think visiting hours start at 9 am, which means I have eighteen hours before they'll let me in those hospital doors, so I'd better leave here in around seventeen hours to make sure I'm there right on time, which means setting my alarm for …

Snore.

‘Nessa? Nessa, are you breathing?'

‘Phwah?' I snort. ‘Huh?'

A hand reaches out and pats me on my shoulder. ‘Nessa, it's Marc.'

I groan and bury my head in my pillow. ‘You said you were coming in the morning.'

Above me, Marc laughs. ‘It
is
the morning. It's already eight o'clock.'

I don't think I've ever jumped out of bed so fast. ‘Eight? No. It can't be. I'm supposed to be leaving by eight. And I haven't called Dad or packed Holly's bag or anything.'

Marc watches me jump around like a crazy thing. ‘So, is that a new hairstyle, or is that just a bed thing?'

I glance over at my mirror. Yikes. ‘What do you think?' I give him a look.

‘Er, bed thing?'

Another look. Which he deserves. ‘It's an “I fell into bed with product still in my hair thing”. Is that okay with you, Mr LA grooming guru?'

‘Sorry! Sorry!' He backs down. ‘Look. How about I call your dad and pack Holly's bag while you have a quick shower. I thought we could grab some breakfast on the way over. I'm sure Holly's not going to want to eat hospital food.'

‘Have you seen Mount Sinai? I think they even have a French chef.'

Marc shrugs. ‘True, but what do you think she'd say to a lox, cream cheese and caper bagel from Barney Greengrass?'

My eyes widen. This boy
knows
his aunt. ‘She'll probably name B after you. Maybe even G as well if you throw a coffee in. She hasn't been able to have coffee or smoked salmon since she found out she was pregnant.'

Marc sighs. ‘Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know. I've been hearing about it long distance for nine long months now. Well, okay, to be fair,
eight
long months.'