Mister Fixit (Love in New York #3) (14 page)

His voice comes out as a moaning growl. “I’m not messing around.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! What are you
doing
?! You can’t have a heart attack here!”

He slides from the couch to the floor and acts like he’s going to crawl to the door. “Okay,” he moans. “I’ll do it outside.”

“No!” I run over to block him and grab my phone from the front table, hitting the speed dial for my brother James.

He picks up on the fifth ring, saving me from the panic attack his voicemail would have given me.

“James!” I scream before he can even speak.

“No, it’s me Leah. What’s wrong? Is this Jana?”

“Get James! Get James! I need to talk to him right now!” I’m crying. I’m not even sure when I started. Was it when Rob started crawling toward the door or when he collapsed on the floor on top of his own arms?

I run over and drop to my knees on the floor next to him. “Rob! Are you okay?!”

“Jana, what’s wrong?” James’s steady, patient voice is in my ear. It takes me a second to realize it’s because I have the phone there.

“Rob is here, and I think he’s having a heart attack.”

“Here where?”

“My apartment.”

“What’s he …? Never mind. Call 9-1-1. I’ll meet you at the hospital. Text me which one. Tell them you’re his wife.”

“His wife?”

“Just do it, Jana!”

“Okay!” I cry out. “You don’t have to yell at me!”

“I’m sorry. Call 9-1-1. Now.” He hangs up and leaves me staring at my phone.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I DIAL 9-1-1, all the while leaning over Rob, trying to see if he’s still breathing. As soon as my face is close enough to his mouth, though, I know he’s alive. That breath of his … damn. This better not be just heartburn. I’ll kill him for making me worry so much.

All I can think about is Laura’s shiny, black casket, how dark and final it felt. The end of everything. And now Robinson is lying on my floor, breathing but no longer making jokes and not crying anymore about the coffee I made him with two sugars.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

My words come out in a tumble. “I think my friend… I mean my husband is having a heart attack.”

“What’s your address?”

I rattle off the information and push Rob over onto his back. His eyelids flutter but don’t open. When he moans, a rush of relief pours into me from somewhere unknown. I lean down and hug him as best I can while holding the phone to my ear.

“Is he breathing?” the operator asks.

“Yes.”

“Is he conscious?”

“No. Maybe. I can’t tell.” I poke his cheek a few times and he winces. “Maybe a little if I poke him.”

“Best not to poke him, ma’am.”

I yank my hand away. How’d she know I was just about to do it again? “Oh. Okay. No more poking.”

“No more poking,” Rob whispers. Then he smiles.

I’m torn between slapping him and crying. Instead, I opt for basic communication. Maybe if I keep him talking, he’ll be okay and he won’t die and leave me totally alone.

“Rob. Rob!” I lean down near his face and turn up the volume to maximum.
“ROB!”

His eyes fly open and then roll around in his head. They’re bloodshot and glassy. “What? Damn. Was that really loud or are my eardrums fucked up from the whiskey?”

Tears trickle down my cheeks. “I swear to God, Rob… if you’re not having a heart attack, I’m going to kill you.” I punch him in the arm so he knows I mean it.

“You love me,” he says, his eyes closing as his grin widens.

I have to turn away so he won’t see my tears turn into silent sobs.
Please, God, don’t take him from me. Don’t take him from us, I mean.
I think about how devastated James would be to lose his best friend. We can’t lose someone again. Not this soon. Not Rob.

“Ma’am, the paramedics are on their way. Is there a door code they should know or do you have a doorman?”

I take a big breath to steady myself so I can at least talk. “I’ll buzz them up when they come. I’m waiting right by the door.” I use the heel of my free hand to wipe the wetness from my cheeks. My throat is aching with unshed tears, but I’m determined to hold it together. For Rob. I don’t want him to think the situation is hopeless.
Please, God, don’t let it be hopeless.

“Good enough. How old is your husband?”

“Thirty seven.”

“Approximate weight?”

“One ninety-five? Two hundred? Something like that.”

“Health problems?”

“None that I know of.”

“No history of heart problems?”

“No.” Other than breaking them, no.

“So you said this is your husband?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been married?”

I blink a few times, trying to figure out why that matters. “Is that relevant to him having a heart attack?”

The operator laughs. “No, I was just being friendly. I have the information I need. I have to stay on the line with you until the unit arrives.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So? How long have you been married?”

“We’re newlyweds.” The answer pops out of my head that way because I’m afraid she’ll start quizzing me on what year we tied the knot, and I can’t do math very well under pressure. This feels like a test, and I can picture the woman hanging up on me when she finds out Rob really isn’t my husband. Oh, you lied? Sorry. I’m canceling your ambulance.

I reach out and pet his face, worried because it’s gone slack again.

“Being a newlywed can be stressful,” the oh-so-helpful operator says. I get the feeling she’s blaming this heart attack on me. I rest my hand on Rob’s chest just to be sure I can still feel a beat beneath his shirt. Sure enough, it’s there. And I’m no doctor, but it seems nice and steady. I want to cry with relief, but I don’t. I have to be strong for Rob.

“Sure,” I say. “But being single can be stressful too.”

“No doubt.”

Rob’s hand slides up and takes mine off his chest. Then to my surprise, he lifts it to his lips and kisses it.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he says softly.

I’m too stunned to claim my hand back.

“You broke my heart, you know,” he continues.

I try to pull my hand away, but his grip tightens and he kisses my fingers again. “It was horrible. Don’t ever do that to me again.” His words trail off and he goes silent again.

“Did you guys have a fight?” the woman asks.

I pull the phone away from my head and stare at it. She’s definitely blaming me for this call.

I put the phone back to my head. “No, we didn’t have a fight.”

“He said you broke his heart.”

My temper starts to rise again. “Excuse me, but is that any of your business? My god, I didn’t call the relationship hotline instead of 9-1-1, did I?”

“No ma’am, you didn’t. And I apologize. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

I want to stay mad, but now I feel bad that I was so rude. “If you must know,
he
broke
my
heart.”

Robinson’s grip on my hand tightens. Then his other hand comes up to join the first and he pushes my palm into his chest.

I hate that he looks like he’s been laid to rest in a coffin with his hands like that. I put the phone down so I can grab his chin. I shake his head back and forth. “Rob. Rob! Wake up.”

He blinks his eyes a few times and then opens them fully. He tries to focus on me, but he’s too drunk or too sick. It’s impossible to tell. “Hi,” he says, like he just woke up after spending the night on my floor.

“Are you okay?” I ask, the tears welling up again. My hand pats the floor for the phone. When I find it, I put it to my ear again. Hopefully I haven’t missed anything important from Dear Abby-911-Operator on the other end of the line.

“My chest hurts,” he says, pouting a little.

I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. “The ambulance is on the way.”

“Ambulance? You called an ambulance?”

I nod, breathing through my nose to try and control my emotions. My entire face trembles with the effort. I hate seeing him look so vulnerable. It scares me, reminding me that life is so tenuous, so temporary. You never know when it’ll be your time to go. Laura was right about that, like she was about a lot of things.

Time passes as I stare at Rob. I re-memorize all the features of his face, ever last wrinkle, every last eyelash. He’s so beautiful it makes my heart ache. I stroke his forehead, his cheeks, his hair, trying to share my energy with him to keep him alive until someone is here to help.

Sometime later, Dear Abby-911-Operator comes back on the line. “Ma’am, the ambulance has arrived. Are you in a position to buzz them in?”

“Yes.” I jump to my feet, pulling my hand from Rob’s grip. I get to the door just as the buzzer’s going off. Pressing the button, I lean toward the speaker. “Come on up. I have the door open for you. Twenty-fifth floor.”

The sounds of traffic and banging come over the speaker. “On our way,” a man says. And then I really start crying.
Please God, don’t take him from me.

Chapter Twenty-Four

THEY WON’T LET ME RIDE in the ambulance, no matter how much I bitch and scream about being Rob’s wife. Thankfully, I find a cab willing to follow behind the emergency vehicle and keep up behind the thing as it speeds through the city. We swerve into the hospital’s emergency entrance right behind it. I throw some money at the driver and run out, leaving him to argue with the security guards telling him to get lost.

A nurse stops me just inside the door, telling me I need to follow her to her desk to fill out paperwork. It’s just a trick, though. I do as she asks, but she puts me in a waiting room so I can
wait
to fill out paperwork.

I whip my phone out and call James.

“Where are you?” he says without preamble.

“Bellevue.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“They’re making me wait to fill out paperwork.” I drop my voice so no one nearby will hear me. “There’s like fifteen other people in here. She says I can’t see Rob until he’s been seen by a doctor.”

“Did you tell them you’re his wife?”

“Yes.”

“Give someone there the phone. Whoever’s in charge.”

I look around in fear. Will I start a riot getting preferential treatment? I stand a second later, not caring what anyone thinks. I need to make sure Rob’s okay. I need to tell him it’s okay. That what he did… I can forgive him for it. I can walk away and stop letting it tear me apart. Jake’s earlier words come back to me and make me feel guilty all over again. He was just trying to help me and I basically kicked him out. He was right. He was completely right. I have a choice about how I’m handling this and I need to fix my mistakes.

I find the nurse who told me to sit down and smile at her, holding out my phone. “Hi there. I’m sorry to bother you, but …”

“I told you to have a seat.” She narrows her eyes at me.

“I know, but…”

“And now you’re standing here holding a phone out at me.”

“I know, but…”

“There are eleven people ahead of you, and I’m busy. Please go sit down.” She glares at me over the top of her reading glasses.

If someone were sitting there being helped, I might have been more intimidated by her attitude. But she’s eating a sandwich and texting someone. I can see the beginning of a message on her screen and her thumb hovering over the buttons.

I put the phone to my ear and talk to my brother a little louder than normal. “Did you get that,
Doctor
Oliver?”

Her head comes up and her expression changes just the slightest bit. “You have your physician on the line?”

“Actually, I have my brother on the line. James Oliver. Do you know him?”

She smiles and reaches for the phone. “Of course I know James. Everyone knows James.” She takes my cell and pinches it between her face and her shoulder as she grabs a clipboard and starts attaching papers to it from a stack in some paper trays on her desk. “Doctor O! How are you? It’s Sally down here in the ER.”

She nods and uh-huhs, and umm-hmmm a few times and then she smiles. “Okay. I’ll tell her. See you soon. Don’t forget to drop by and say hi.” She hangs up the call and hands the phone back to me, her face completely transformed by her smile. “Doctor Oliver said to let you go on in. If you’ll step around to that door over there, I’ll show you to your husband’s bed.”

I can’t believe it was that easy. I feel guilty my connections are getting me into the inner sanctum but not guilty enough to say no thanks to her invitation. Thankfully, the door she points me to isn’t near the other people waiting to fill out their paperwork.

When I get to the double doors the nurse gestured to, I’m tempted to hold them open and yell, ‘Run everyone! Find your loved ones while you can!’ But of course I don’t. I do what I’m told and find myself led around a very busy-looking nurse’s station to a curtained-off cubicle that has a bed and my brother’s former college roommate lying in it.

His eyes are closed and there are wires coming out from under the blanket covering him. His complexion looks horrible, more gray than anything else.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, my hand going to my mouth. “What did I do?”

Rob’s eyes open and he looks right at me, but I see no recognition there. Then, slowly he smiles and his skin doesn’t look quite so terrible. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” I walk closer, stopping at the side of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better.” He looks me up and down. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Shut up or I’ll pinch off your air hose.” I point to the tube going into his nose, connected to a plug on the wall.

“Nice.” He smiles and nods. “I’m glad to see my near-death experience hasn’t changed your opinion of me.”

Tears spring to my eyes and I reach my hand out.

He cringes, waiting for me to smack him, but instead I wipe the hair from his eyes.

His gaze follows my fingers and then moves to my face. When he begins to talk, his voice catches, so he clears his throat and starts over. “So, did you have a hard time getting past the guards out front?”

“Not once I got the nurse on the phone with James I didn’t.”

“You called James?” He looks off to the side. “Dammit.”