Someone Like You: Wild Widows Series, Book 1 Page 18

  “H-how do you know?”

  “I just know it. Try not to worry.”

  The next thing I know, he’s shaking me awake to tell me we’ve arrived at the George Washington University Hospital Emergency entrance. I really hope this isn’t going to be an actual emergency.

  Derek opens the passenger door, helps me out and keeps an arm around me as we walk inside. Thankfully, there are only a few people waiting at this time of night, or I guess it’s morning.

  “She’s been exposed to strep, has a one-oh-five fever and is pregnant,” Derek says to the triage nurse.

  “Right this way,” she says, leading me to a cubicle.

  “I’m going to park,” Derek says. “Be right back.”

  I’m incredibly thankful not to have to sit in a chair in the waiting room for God knows how long. The nurse helps to get me settled in a bed and brings in a warm blanket that is the best thing I’ve ever experienced.

  My throat is so sore, I can barely swallow, and talking is incredibly painful, so I keep my words to a minimum. “Baby,” I whisper.

  “We’re going to check you both,” she says, patting my shoulder.

  Relieved, I close my eyes and wake up again to a female doctor with a stethoscope leaning over me as monitors beep. Looking around, I find Derek leaning against the wall, looking pale and wan himself. I want to tell him to go home, but I suspect he won’t leave until he hears I’m okay.

  “We’re going to put you on a fetal monitor, Roni,” the doctor says, “and start an IV.”

  “You don’t look so good either,” the nurse says to Derek.

  “I’m almost twenty-four hours on an antibiotic for the same thing.”

  “Have a seat.” She gestures to the visitor chair. “Your wife is going to be here awhile.”

  “Oh, she’s not… We’re not…” He looks at me with wide eyes that would’ve made me laugh at any other time.

  The nurse leaves the small room before he can set her straight.

  Naturally, she assumed we’re married because I’m still wearing my wedding rings, and he has the same thing I have. “Sorry,” I whisper to him.

  “Don’t be. It’s fine.”

  I have no idea how long we’re there. I sleep for most of it, coming to only when the nurse starts the IV in the back of my hand, which hurts like hell.

  Derek is there the whole time, holding my other hand and dozing in the chair as doctors and nurses come and go.

  All I want to know is if the baby is okay, and when the fetal monitor records a strong heartbeat, I’m so relieved. I close my eyes tight against the instant rush of tears that slide down my cheeks anyway. I feel Derek wiping them away with a tissue, but my eyelids are so heavy, I can’t open them or find the energy to thank him.

  Time becomes this odd never-never land of beeping and people in and out and sleep and murmured voices. I’m hot and then cold in extremes I’ve never experienced so acutely before. All the while, I’m aware of Derek there the entire time, but I can’t keep my eyes open long enough to talk to him or thank him or tell him to go home.

  The next time I come to, I’m in a different room, and sunlight is streaming through the window.

  Every part of me aches, and my throat is on fire. I try to turn my head to see if Derek is still there, and I wince from the pain of moving.

  “Hey,” he says, standing to take my hand.

  His skin is so cool next to mine.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asks.

  “Like I got run over by a bus.” My mouth is so dry. “Is there water?”

  He pours ice water from a pitcher into a plastic cup with a straw that he holds up to my mouth.

  That sip of water is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, until it hits my throat, causing me to wince.

  Derek puts the cup down and turns to do something. He holds up the packet of throat lozenges that I bought for him. “Want one?”

  “God, yes.”

  “You can’t choke on this, do you hear me?”

  “I won’t.”

  He hands one to me, and I pop it into my mouth.

  The relief is nearly immediate. “Thank you.”

  “You’re the one who bought them. They’re the best.”

  “Mmmm.” I force my eyes open to look at him—handsome, a bit disheveled and clearly exhausted. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  “I can text my parents. They’ll come.”

  “If you want to do that, I’ll wait until they get here.”

  My first thought is how I’ll explain him to them, but I want him to go home to get some rest, so I take my phone from him and send the text to my mother.

  Hey—don’t panic, but I’m at GW with a high fever.

  “Did they say if I tested positive for strep?” I ask him.

  “Yep, you did.”

  I add that info to the text. Nothing to worry about, but just wanted you to know. They’ve got me on an IV. Probably going to be here for a while.

  My mom responds right away. Oh my goodness! Dad and I will be right there! What room are you in?

  “She’s asking what room.”

  “Five twelve.”

  I text that info to my mother.

  See you shortly.

  “They’ll be here soon. You really don’t have to wait. You’ve been such a trouper.”

  “It’s no problem, and I’ll wait.”

  “Are you always this stubborn?”

  He smiles. “When I need to be.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Much better today, thank goodness. I texted my mom, and she said Maeve is fine and not to worry about her.”

  “That’s good news. I’d hate for her to get this.”

  “Me, too. I’m sorry you did.”

  “I blame Iris and her kids.”

  “Yes, it’s all their fault.”

  Sleep pulls me under once again, and when I wake the next time, my parents are standing by my bed, wearing masks and looking pinched and worried the way they did after Patrick first died.

  I realize that’s the first time I’ve thought of him in hours, and I’m not sure what that means.

  “How’re you feeling, sweetie?” Mom asks.

  “I’ve been better.” I glance to the left to see that Derek is still there. “Did you meet my friend Derek?”

  “We did.”

  “He gave me a ride over here and refuses to leave.”

  Derek smiles. “I’ll go now that you’re in good hands, but I’ll check on you later?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  As he walks around the bed, my dad extends a hand to him. Dad is tall and burly from years of working in construction. He has snow-white hair—he says from raising three daughters—and a weathered complexion. What you can’t see from the outside is the heart of gold. He would do anything for anyone. He survived lymphoma five years ago and has a compromised immune system, thus the masks. They shouldn’t even be here.

  Derek shakes his hand.

  “Thank you for helping my daughter, Derek.”

  “No problem. It was nice to meet you both. Feel better, Roni.”

  “Thank you, Derek,” Mom calls after him. “What a nice young man,” she says after he’s gone.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “How do you know him?” she asks, because she can’t help herself.

  “We work together.”

  Mom adjusts my blanket, which doesn’t need adjusting. “So he works at the White House, too?”

  “Yes, he’s the deputy chief of staff to the president.”

  Her eyes go wide over the top of her mask. “Oh my goodness. And you’re already close enough to him, after just a few days on the job, to call him when you’re sick?”

  “I met him before I started at the White House. It’s a long story.” Which involves a certain amount of stalking that I’d prefer my parents never know about. Speaking of things they need to know… “So, guys, whe
n I asked you to come for dinner tonight…” I pause and reach for the water.

  Mom holds the cup and straw for me. “I assume that’s off.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a grimace, “it’s off. But there was something I wanted to tell you.”

  “Is everything all right, honey?” Dad asks, his brows coming together into the expression he wore for weeks after we lost Patrick.

  “It is… Well, as all right as anything is these days, but it’s actually very good news, or at least I’m trying to see it that way.” I look up at them, both so dear to me, my rocks after the tragic loss of my husband. “It seems I’m pregnant.”

  Mom gasps. “Oh, oh… Roni… That’s… Oh, honey.” Tears fill her eyes. “How far along are you?”

  “Almost four months.”

  My dad seems to sag a bit. “That’s wonderful news, honey, but I’m sure you must have very mixed feelings.”

  “So many emotions,” I say, attempting to swallow. That’s when I notice that Derek left one of the trays of lozenges on the table next to my bed. I reach for them, and my mom saves me the trouble, handing them to me. After I put another one in my mouth and revel in the sweet numbness and relief it brings, I look up at them again. “I’m thrilled to know Patrick will live on in our child.”

  Dad’s eyes flood with tears, and he turns away from me.

  “Is this why you’ve been so nauseated?” Mom asks.

  “Apparently so. I thought it was grief, but that wasn’t it.”

  “And the baby is okay?”

  “Yes, they’ve had me on a monitor since I came in, and the heartbeat is very strong.”

  “Thank goodness.” She sighs, wipes away tears with a tissue and reaches out to brush the hair back from my face. “My strong, brave girl. We’re so proud of you already, and now… You’re going to be a mom.”

  “I’m going to need tons and tons of help.”

  “You’ll have all the help you need,” Dad says gruffly. “Whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, guys. Love you both so much. I never would’ve survived all this without you.”

  “Yes, you would have,” Dad says in the same uncharacteristically gruff tone. “You’re tough as nails. We’ve always said that about you, and you’ve proven it to us again in the last few months.”

  His sweet words make my chin quiver as I try to contain the overload of emotion. “Thank you, Daddy, but you guys ought to go. This place is full of germs.”

  “We’ll go in a little bit,” he says.

  The day passes in a strange state of sleep and people. I wake up to my sisters having relieved my parents, who’ve ceded to my request that they go home and get my dad out of the germy hospital.

  “Girl, you’ve been keeping some secrets,” Rebecca says. Her dark hair is up in a bun that makes her look glamorous. The same look on me would make me look dumpy.

  “Mom told you about the baby?”

  “Yes,” Pen says on a long exhale. Her hair is lighter than ours, but we share the same brown eyes. “We’re so excited about it, but, Ron, you have to be, well…”

  “My emotions are all over the place. I’m so sad Patrick is missing this, and the thought of doing it alone is just…”

  “You will not be alone,” Rebecca says adamantly. “You will never be alone.”

  I squeeze her hand and smile up at the sisters who’ve always been there for me.

  “Mom also told us about the ‘friend’ who was here with you when they got here,” Pen says.

  Of course she did. “Oh. Derek.”

  “The same guy you were with the other night, right?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Derek, who’s the number two staffer to the president,” Rebecca adds in case I didn’t know what he does for a living. “And wait, you were with him the other night?”

  “We’re friends. He’s a widower.”

  “Oh wow,” Pen says on a long exhale. “That sucks.”

  “Remember the thing that got Arnie Patterson arrested?”

  “What about it?” Rebecca asks, her brows furrowed.

  “Derek’s wife was the one they murdered.”

  “Holy crap,” Pen says. “I remember all that. That poor guy. His kid was missing, too, right?”

  “Yes, for several days. But thankfully, they found her. My new boss, Sam, was the one who led that investigation.”

  “You mean your new boss, Sam, the first lady,” Pen says, smiling.

  “It’s all coming back to me now,” Rebecca says. “Well, this is an interesting development.”

  “We’re friends. That’s it.”

  “If it was more than that, no one would judge you, Ronald McDonald,” Pen says gently.

  “Yes, they would. Rita did the other night when she and Lou saw us together.”

  “Wait, what?” Rebecca says, looking between us. “Where did they see you?”

  Penelope spares me from having to repeat the story by filling her in. “And for what it’s worth, Rita’s judgment doesn’t count because she’s a boob and has no sense. Do not let her or people like her dictate how you live your life going forward.”

  “Still,” I say, moved by Pen’s emotional outburst. “It’s too soon.”

  “Is there a rule book about these things?” Rebecca asks.

  “No, but there’s common decency and respect for my husband’s memory.”

  “For which you have tons of respect,” Pen says. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. But if you are… Don’t get caught up in what other people expect. You do you.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be in hot demand out on the dating scene, especially since I’m pregnant with my late husband’s baby. That’s some kind of sexy.”

  “Mom says Derek is very handsome,” Rebecca says.

  I roll my eyes, which hurts my head. “Mom needs to take a chill pill, and so do you.”

  “How long are you going to be here?” Pen asks.

  “They haven’t said yet.”

  “You can come to my house when you get released,” Pen adds.

  “No, that’s okay. You don’t need me bringing whatever this is into your house. I’ll be fine at home.”

  Much later, I wake from yet another nap and find Derek sitting next to my bed. At first I wonder if the fever is back and I’m seeing things, but no, it’s really him, and he looks much better than he did earlier. I suppose that’s to be expected since it’s no longer the middle of the night. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”

  “A little better, but still not ready to climb mountains or scale tall buildings.”

  “You’ll be back to that in no time.”

  “If you say so. Thanks for leaving the magic throat pills earlier.”

  “I figured they might come in handy. You want one?”

  “More than anything.”

  Smiling, he stands to retrieve the tray of lozenges from my bedside table and pops one into my outstretched hand.

  The relief is immediate and intense. “That’s the best thing since ice cream.”

  “Sure is. Iris has it now, too, and she’s super upset that your first meeting with the Wild Widows put you in the hospital.”

  “Not her fault.”

  “Still, she feels bad.”

  “I hope she has help with the kids while she’s sick.”

  “Her mom is there.”

  “That’s good. How’s Maeve?”

  “She’s having fun with her grandparents, who spoil her rotten. They’re keeping her until Monday after work.”

  “You must miss her.”

  “I do, but I was feeling so shitty until earlier today that it was a relief to know they were taking care of her.”

  “I hope she doesn’t get this.”

  “I hope so, too, and that she doesn’t give it to my parents.”

  “You should go home and rest while you can.”

  “I’d rather hang out here with you.”

  “Because I’m
such great company right now. And I must look like I took a trip down Ugly Street and hit every bump.”

  His laughter makes me smile. “No, you don’t, and you’re very good company, even when you’re sick.”

  “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me for the alleged stalking?”

  “Not quite yet, so you need to let me hang out so you have more time to redeem yourself.”

  He’s cute, funny, thoughtful, handsome, a wonderful father… He’s the full package, and I’m starting to look forward to our time together in a way that leaves me unsettled. Would Patrick be “moving on” to someone new this quickly if I’d been the one to die? I no sooner ask myself that question than I stop that train of thought from leaving the station. Every grief journey is different. That’s one of many things I’ve learned since I was plunged into this situation.

  I’m not doing anything wrong by enjoying the time I spend with Derek.

  Maybe if I keep repeating that to myself, over and over and over again, I might start to believe it.

  “Unless you’d rather be alone, that is,” he says after a long moment of silence.

  “No, I wouldn’t rather be alone, and that’s kind of the problem.”

  “I didn’t realize we had a problem.”

  “We don’t. It’s just…”

  “What, Roni?”

  “Confusing.”

  “What is?”

  “This. You.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean now. I don’t need to be here if it makes you uncomfortable, and I’m sure you had to answer some questions with your folks earlier when they found me here with you.”

  “A few.”

  “Were they upset about it?”

  “No, not at all. Just curious.” I turn my head so I can look at him. “I’m struggling with this. With you…”

  “I’ll go.”

  17

  Roni

  “No! I don’t want you to go, and that’s the part I’m struggling with. I like having you here. I like being with you, and… It’s just… I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

  “I totally understand. You know I do. Like, how can I still be in love with Vic, forever in love with her, and have feelings for you, too?”

  “You… You have feelings for me?”