She looks up and nods. “Go ahead through the doors, and he’s in room five on the right.” She bends down to click a button.
“Thank you,” Noodle beats me to conveying my appreciation.
I stop us when the doors open. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“If you prefer for me to stay here, I will.”
The debate clicks back and forth in my head. I stare out at the weary people in the waiting room. There’s not a chance I’m leaving her here.
“Come.” I pull her through the doors.
This time, she locks our fingers together. She pushes me to be stronger in this situation.
Jim’s sleeping when we walk into his room. His clothes are stuffed into a bag on the table. We don’t have time to sit down before a nurse strolls in.
“You’re his son?” the middle-aged woman asks.
I nod.
“No, he’s not,” Jim mumbles.
The nurse disregards him and checks his vitals and the IV bag.
“I’m his foster son. I believe you called Carol. She asked me to come.”
“She’s a whore,” Jim slurs.
My head falls back. “Can we tone down the crazy for a minute?”
Jim flips me off.
Noodle’s eyebrows arch. I forgot to mention he can get angry when he drinks to her.
“They are having some marital disagreements right now,” I inform the nurse.
She nods. Pretty sure she can figure out the reason.
“Well, I’m Nurse Helen. Mr. Lancaster is being admitted. His blood alcohol is way above normal. We need to observe him.” She unhooks his bag of fluids and lays it between his legs.
An orderly comes in and starts unlocking the bed.
“Can I ask exactly what happened?” I stand in front of Jim’s bed, so he can’t be moved. I get that they’re in a rush, but I need some information, and he sure as shit can’t tell me.
“The paramedics told us he passed out and hit his head. A CT scan has been performed, and everything looks normal. He just has too much alcohol in his system, and we are admitting him to detox him. We will be sending a counselor up to the room to discuss rehabilitation.” Nurse Helen signals to someone out in the hall.
Another orderly comes in the room, and the two of them maneuver his bed to wheel him out of the room.
“What room will he be in?”
“He’s going up to the fourth floor. Give them about ten minutes to get him situated and for the nurses to get up-to-date on his case.”
Before I can take a breath, Noodle and I are alone in an empty room.
“Let’s go.” Noodle breezes past me.
My feet step to catch up to her. Her eyes ping right and left outside of the room, trying to locate something.
“No. You don’t need to stay here this long.”
She spins on her heels. “It’s not your choice.”
This day might not have turned out like I wanted, but damn, I like that she’s staying.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Amelia
The following Sunday, my body fights me the entire time I crawl out of bed. Sundays are for sleeping in, not for work. It’s usually my only day I have off from both jobs, and I try to focus on my photography on those days. I call them Lazy Sundays. I usually go out to the streets of New York and take a few pictures by the water, sit at a café, or I sometimes hop on the first train and see where it takes me.
Now, I’m on my way to CHOPs—for a bridal shower, no less. I pray her color isn’t Pepto-Bismol pink, because I might cough up my iced coffee.
I open the front door, and as I guessed, bouquets of pink roses fill vases on each table. Little cookies line trays down the center of the table with the inscription Bride and Groom and a heart and an arrow through it. The over-fluff of love has seeped into every crevice of the restaurant. That makes me assume the groom’s probably screwing the bride’s best friend. I blame Cam for my sour outlook on love. I haven’t been able to shake him since last week.
I roll my eyes and walk to the back room. The wait staff is changing into their assigned uniforms, and I notice Todd’s not strutting around, displaying his naked chest for everyone to gawk at.
“Hey, Todd’s single, right?” Lucy whispers, leaning in close to me.
I peer back to him and find he’s placing on his hat. “Yeah.” I dig into my locker for my apron.
“I asked him if he wanted to go out for a bite to eat later.” She pauses. “He said no. I guess I thought there was some interest. He flirts with me, and I catch him looking at me.”
My head flies to hers, and I scrunch my eyebrows while pulling out my apron and tying it around my waist.
“Hmm . . .” Todd isn’t one to turn down a date, so although I’m confused, like Lucy, I try to act differently. “Maybe he’s just tired.”
She stands next to me, obviously expecting more.
“Did you want me to talk to him?” The minute I ask the question, I know this is a bad idea. I do not want to get into the middle of anything like some junior high drama.
Her eyes light up. “Would you?”
I focus on her hand that’s squeezing my forearm. Very bad idea.
“Thank you!” she exclaims, squeezing my arm again. She twists around and leaves the break room.
I release a huff and shut my locker. Todd’s on his way out with his head hanging low, and I know this is my only chance to have him alone tonight.
Increasing my pace, I come up right behind him. “Is everything okay?”
He stares at me for a few beats of a minute, almost as if he desperately wants to tell me something. “Yeah, I’m just really hungover.”
I like to think I know when Todd is lying, and I’m pretty sure he’s doing exactly that right to my face.
“Is it Jim?”
I know Todd had a lot of stuff to finish up with the counselors before we left the hospital that night. Jim should be settled into a rehabilitation facility by now.
Todd stops in the hallway and lets everyone pass us. “He’s denied rehab.” His hands clamp on the back of his neck. The stress he’s under is clear.
“You can’t admit him anyway? Have you called Carol?”
He huffs. “She’s not answering her phone. He swears he can do it with only AA because he did it years ago. I can’t control him, but I’m checking on him every night.”
“Are you going over there tonight?”
“I don’t have much of a choice.” He leans against the wall and stares down at his feet.
“I’m going with you then. After you’re finished prepping for the party, I’ll make you one of my favorite concoctions.”
I smile, and he returns a weak one.
“We’ll get you through this.” I squeeze his arm and step away.
He grabs my wrist, and his eyes fix to mine. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
A half hour later, I’m just finishing preparing the sangria pitchers when a blur of pink rushes into the restaurant, giggling and talking loudly. There’s a ratio of five to one with blondes to brunettes, then there’s always the signature redhead thrown in. They’re all dressed to the nines with their blouses and handbags swung over their arms. I don’t have to talk to any one of them to know we live very different lives.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Davis escaping from his office, and my stomach somersaults. I didn’t even know he was in yet.
“Oh, Davis. This is amazing,” the head blonde gushes, squeezing him in a tight hug.
“Anything for you, Hillary. You know that.” He hugs her back, and his eyes catch me at the bar.
One of the other Miss Priss girls follows his vision and turns around to glare at me.
After he’s released from Hillary’s clutches—at least, that’s what I like to think of it as—he asks, “How are the wedding plans coming?”
“Wonderful—at least, I hope so. I’ve instructed my wedding planners—wait!” The blonde goes into a full-on panic mode. “Where are they? They should have been here an hour ago to make sure all the favors are in order and the flowers have arrived. Mom!” she yells.
An adult version of Miss Debutant clicks over on her Manolo Blahniks.
“Where are Tina and Ralph? I don’t see my cake—” she says, her voice escalating.