Page 52 of On His Knees

I hold Marion in my arms, and seconds turn into minutes. We wait quietly, the TV droning in the corner but I ignore it. A few more patients are rushed in, accidents on the ski hill. Time ticks by, and I grab us both coffees from the vending machine. We sip them, and when we reach the bottom of our cups, the doctor finally comes out. I stand, help Marion up, and she leans on me for support.

“How is he?” I ask.

“Unstable angina,” he says.

“How bad is it?” Marion asks, and clutches the front of my shirt.

“Tomorrow we’ll do a stress test. If he passes that, we’ll send him home with nitro, to be taken as needed. If he doesn’t, we’ll have to do a cardiac cath and check for blockage.”

“Can I see him?” Marion asks.

“Of course, he’s awake and asking for you.”

Marion holds on to me and I guide her down the hall to his room. Her legs give a little when she sees her husband hooked up to so many machines.

“Henry,” she says, and rushes to him. I stand back to give them a minute. Henry hugs his wife, and looks my way. “Thanks,” he says to me.

I nod, and knowing they need time together, I excuse myself. I go back down the hall, and give the nurse my number so she can keep me updated. Shaken up from the ordeal, I step outside and hail a cab. Since I took off without even putting a coat on, I can’t walk back to the resort.

The cab comes. I slide into the back seat, and give directions to Granddad’s hotel, hoping to find Summer in her suite. The driver cranks the heat and I’m grateful. As I freeze my nuts off, I pull my phone out, checking for messages, when it rings.

Granddad.

Heart racing, I run my finger across the screen. “Granddad,” I say quickly. “You haven’t been answering my calls, are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, son.”

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“Then why haven’t you called me back?” I ask, and pinch the bridge of my nose, impatience thrumming through me.

“I didn’t want to ruin your ski trip,” he announces, an almost triumphant tone in his voice.

What?

“How did you know?”

“My jet doesn’t go anywhere without me knowing, son.”

“Shit.”

“Did you meet her?” he asks, a new lightness in his voice, a burst of excitement. You’d never know the man was sick, or losing his mind.

“Did I meet who?”

“Summer Love?”

What the fuck is going on?

“You knew she’d be there, I straight up told you, even showed you her picture so you’d know who she was.” Ice clinks against a glass, and then I hear Granddad swallow. “What do you think of her? Do you like her?”

What the hell am I supposed to say? Oh yeah, I liked her so much I spent the week fucking her.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist her,” he says, and lets loose a laugh.

What the hell?

“What are you talking about?”

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