68. Riley
SIXTY-EIGHT
All I can do ismoan while Gabriel carries me to his SUV.
”Tampa General, now,” he barks to the driver, who looks at me with wide, frightened eyes as he shuts the door behind us.
I must look feral, dressed in nothing but a sweatshirt and yoga pants and flip flops, my hair a wet and tangled mess. My cheeks tear-stained, my face contorted with pain.
The ride to the hospital is excruciating. Every bump in the road sends a pulse of pain through my back, and every turn makes me want to vomit.
Gabriel holds me, or tries to, but the pain makes me writhe and shift. When I attempt to settle down, he strokes my hair, telling me it”s going to be okay.
”My doctor”s meeting us there. He”s excellent. He”s cared for me my entire life, knew my grandfather. It”s going to be okay, blondie.”
He”s trying to keep his voice soft and soothing, but the edge in his tone tells me that he”s worried, too.
”What”s happening to me?” I let out a sob.
”Babe, I don”t know. We”re going to find out. We”ll be there soon.”
For the rest of the ride, I whimper in Gabriel”s arms, trying to will the pain away. Once at the hospital, a team of people greet us in the emergency room. I”m helped to a wheelchair and whisked into a giant elevator. Gabriel holds my hand the entire way.
The doors slide open, and a scary silence greets us, along with a white-haired man with matching bushy eyebrows.
”Doctor.” Gabriel goes to the man and they shake hands. He says something to the doctor, but I can”t hear, and the team of nurses roll me into a room and help me into a bed.
”It hurts so much,” I cry.
”It”s okay, sweetie.” A nurse with big gold hoop earrings strokes my arm. ”You”re in the best possible place. This is the VIP area of the hospital, and Mr. Greco”s making sure you receive the best care.”
A hospital has a VIP area? I”m so confused and want to ask about this, but I”m distracted by all of the things happening at once. My blood pressure. Temperature. Pulse.
The doctor and Gabriel walk in, and the doctor introduces himself. I immediately forget his name because another bolt of pain is ripping through my side.
”My dear, I suspect you have a nasty kidney infection. Do you think you can stand to give us a urine sample? There are instructions in the restroom.” He points to a door on the other side of the room.
I nod, and Gabriel and a nurse help me to my feet. They hold onto me for the five steps to the bathroom, and for the first time, I notice that this room is low-lit and nicely decorated in warm, light blue tones. Like a hotel. Must be part of the VIP treatment.
”Do you need me to help you? Or do you want a nurse?” Gabriel says as we reach the bathroom.
Now I”m mortified. Having him see me in this state and offering to help me pee?
Total humiliation.
I gather all of my willpower and strength and shoot him a tight smile. ”No, I”ve got this. Thanks.”
I slowly pull the door shut behind me. I very much do not have this, not at all. I somehow manage to follow the instructions for the sample, all the while sniffling and thinking about what a shitshow this entire night has been. I”m in so much pain that Gabriel seeing me at my absolute worst isn”t my biggest concern.
I hobble out and hand the sample to the nurse, who power walks out of the room with the cup. The doctor and Gabriel help me back into the bed.
”We”re going to test the sample. After that, we might need to do more tests such as an. Ultrasound or a CT scan. But we should be able to ease your pain soon with medicine.”
The doctor tells me he”s going to do a physical exam, and checks my heartbeat, looks in my throat, and in my ears. Then he presses on my stomach and side, and I howl in pain.
Gabriel, who is standing almost as close as the doctor, gapes at me, probably wishing he never got involved. Wishing he never came to my house tonight, wishing he never met me.
”This definitely seems kidney related,” the doctor mutters, clearly concerned at my distress. ”I”m going to check on that sample. Excuse me.”
He sweeps out of the room and for the first time since we arrived at the hospital, Gabriel and I are alone in the room.
With my brows knitted from pain, I try to settle back onto the uncomfortable pillow. Gabriel paces around the small room, pulling one slat of the blind down to peer out the lone window. I shut my eyes, wanting the pain and everything else to go away.
A few seconds later, I hear the click of the door opening, and my eyes peel open. It”s the nurse with the earrings. She”s toting a scary-looking pole with a bag of liquid attached.
”I”ve been cleared to give you some pain medicine, so you should be feeling better soon. All I”m going to need is your arm...” she cheerfully rattles on about how she”s going to put an IV line into my vein.
”Is that okay?” she asks.
I nod. ”Anything, if it will take away what I”m feeling right now.”
Okay, we”re going to need to get you out of those clothes and into a gown,” the nurse says. She holds up a blue and white floral printed gown and then eyeballs Gabriel.
”Could you step out, please?”
At first, I expect him to balk, but he looks sheepish and answers, ”of course, of course,” and scurries out of the room.
The nurse, bless her, helps me slowly shed my clothes and gets me comfortable in bed. She even finds another pillow in a cabinet, one that”s not so lumpy, and raises the head of the bed so I”m sitting upright.
”Much better?”
This woman is a certified saint. ”Definitely.”
”Do you want your husband back in here while I give you the meds?”
I blink, confused. In the midst of my pain I”m trying to determine who she”s referring to, and that”s when it hits me she thinks I”m married to Gabriel. ”Um, sure.”
She leaves me and opens the door, beckoning him back into the room. He must”ve been right outside, because he stalks in with a worried look.
I glance at Gabriel, who”s standing in the middle of the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his black hair is messy.
That”s when it hits me: he looks anguished. Not annoyed.
The nurse takes out a needle and Gabriel shakes his head. ”I”m sorry, I can”t watch.”
The nurse gently squeezes my leg and winks. ”Men aren”t as tough as we are, right?”
For the first time in what seems like hours, I muster a smile. She pricks the crook of my arm and attaches an IV line.
”What are you giving me, anyway?” I ask, as she arranges all of the plastic tubes.
”Morphine,” she says briskly.
Within seconds, my entire body feels warm, and the pain evaporates. It”s the most blissful feeling, and I sigh contentedly as I sink into the pillow.