Page 67 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

Suddenly, I needed to know. Now.

Perhaps I should wait until he’s out of the hospital.

But …

“Peter,” I found myself saying as he looked at the ceiling. But as he swung his head toward me, a knock sounded at the door, and I stood.

“Hi, Peter? I’m Dr. Bakshi. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine,” he said curtly. When the doctor seemed to be waiting for him to say more, he added gruffly, “Impatient.”

The doctor grinned. “That’s what we like to hear.” Then he looked at me with a wink. “No, but really, how is he?”

I smiled back at him. “His usual insufferable self. In other words, pretty good.”

Dr. Bakshi sat down on the chair I’d left empty. “I have the results of your tests.”

“Should I wait outside?” I asked, biting my lip because I wanted to stay but not to intrude.

The doctor merely looked at Peter, who said, “No.”

“Very well. None of the tests showed any sign of a heart attack or other serious condition. Your blood pressure was extremely high, but that’s not atypical for your condition.”

Peter’s brow was deeply furrowed as his eyes shifted to me and then back to the doctor. “I don’t understand.”

“You had a panic attack,” said the doctor, his lips curving upward slightly. “That, combined with your hypertension and arrhythmia, probably made it seem worse than it actually was.”

Peter’s eyes were huge as I waited for him to respond. “It was all in my head?”

“Well, no, the symptoms were very real. But also very temporary and not indicative of any health concern. At least not a physical health concern.” The doctor hesitated a moment. “Some patients meet with a counselor though. If you’re interested, I can put in a referral.”

Peter said nothing but stared at the ceiling for a long time as the doctor and I communicated silently.

“I have even better news. You can go home shortly. I’ll just send a nurse with the discharge paperwork.”

At this news, Peter perked up and sat up straight before swinging his legs off the bed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” For a moment, it looked as though the doctor might say more, but he merely said, “Have a nice day!”

I found myself smiling as I turned to look at Peter, who was stretching his legs as discreetly as he could with a hospital gown on. When he caught me staring, my cheeks reddened. “Oh, sorry. I’ll wait outside so you can change.”

“Wait, Hazel?” he called out.

My gaze held his for a moment. Surely he wouldn’t ask me to stay while he—

“Thank you.” His lips twisted into a small but genuine smile.

My heart did a little flip, and I did what any sane woman would do.

I pivoted on my heel and promptly tripped.

Well, maybe not so sane.

*****

The ride home was quiet, and while I didn’t sense any tension fromhim, I was feeling all sorts of uncertain. We still had a lot to talk about, didn’t we? Some of the things he’d said … well, did he mean them? And if so, what then?

After arriving home, he walked me over to my house. Who’d have thought this guy who was initially so abrasive was actually a real gentleman?

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