Page 36 of Fauxmance in the City

In a quick movement, Sam scoops her up and carries her inside. I race down to meet them but stop on the landing halfway down the staircase. Natalie’s on the bench in the foyer, cradling her arm. Sam opens the doors to the living room.

“I’ll get some ice,” Sam says.

“Wait,” Natalie says through ground teeth. “Don’t tell Gillian. I…damn it.” Her breath is labored, like she’s pushing through pain. “Just don’t say anything. Please.”

Sam shakes his head as if to say she’s a fool, and I hold my breath.

“Fine,” he relents. “Don’t move. I’ll get help.”

But when he leaves, Natalie slumps against the wall and passes out.

We’re afraid to take her in a car to the hospital since she’s unconscious, so I call 911. We move Natalie to the sofa in the living room, and I kneel beside her while Charles and Karen stand in front of the fireplace. They were in the kitchen going over the schedule for the day when they heard the commotion.

A moan escapes Natalie’s lips, and her eyes flutter open. Sam’s on the phone with the dispatcher and tells them Natalie’s awake and listens for instructions. I reach for his hand, in need of an anchor as relief floods me. He lets me rest my hand on his but he doesn’t reciprocate.

“Look at me.” Max comes around the sofa. He leans over Natalie, and I make room for him, letting go of Sam. Max came downstairs a minute ago and checked her vitals as soon as he saw her unconscious.

Natalie lifts her gaze to the bright chandelier overhead. Max leans his face close to hers, checking her pupils.

“Don’t move,” Max commands when she tries to sit. “You’ll only pass out again.” His face is stern, a leader on the battlefield.

“You’re in good hands.” Charles squeezes Max’s shoulder. “Max has been on the front line while reporting, and he’s dealt with worse than this.” Then he turns to me and asks, “Who is this young woman?”

“My sister, Natalie. She came to assist me with the segment today.”

Everyone accepts this without question. It’s not unusual to have assistants.

“I have to get up.” Natalie whips her head around to look at me. I kneel beside her again and press her rising shoulder down. “What time is it? The turkey has to go in the oven. We have to—”

I almost laugh. Even with a damaged wrist, she wants to get in the kitchen and make sure everything is perfect.

“Shh.” Max takes my place, kneeling on the plush rug. “You’re in shock and may have a concussion. You need to stay still. An ambulance is on its way. Close your eyes.”

“I like you. You’re bossy. Do it some more,” she murmurs.

“Shh,” he says again, but there’s a smile in his voice.

Five minutes later, an ambulance arrives. Two EMTs hurry inside, and Max rambles off some medical jargon regarding Natalie’s condition and steps aside to let them do their work. I stand close to Sam, gaining comfort from having him near me while Natalie is examined. I know it’s only her wrist, but worry grips me, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry to ruin your weekend,” Natalie says to the younger EMT, who is checking her vitals.

“We’re working today whether you’re injured or not. You’re just making our day a little more exciting.” His grin reaches his eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and she smiles back. Okay. That’s a good sign. She’s acting like her sweet, people-pleasing self.

“Glad I could help out.”

Natalie winces when he kneads her wrist and forearm, feeling the bones and ligaments. “Ah!”

“I don’t think anything’s broken. Some torn ligaments most likely. We won’t know for sure without an X-ray.”

Natalie’s eyes widen. I know what she’s thinking. An X-ray would mean going to the hospital. It would end up taking half the day. She’s worried about leaving me alone when she just got here.

“Can I wait until tomorrow? I don’t want to go to the hospital today.”

“Don’t, Natalie. It’s not worth it,” Sam says.

Ignoring him, Natalie gazes at the EMT, her eyes softening. “I’ll be really careful, then come in first thing tomorrow.”

“That’s your choice, ma’am.” He secures her arm in a sling.

---