Chapter 17
Layla
The background noise in the waiting room falls silent as we all stare at the doctor. I heard what he said, but my brain won’t or can’t accept it. Gaga falling and breaking a hip was bad enough, but that was fixable. We’d figure out a way to get her the help she needs, but Dr. Hiram just threw us a curveball I did not anticipate.
“Did you just say my mother had a stroke?” my mom asks. She takes my hand after asking the question.
I feel a large hand on my back, and it feels soothing. I’m not going to acknowledge who it belongs to, but for the moment, his hand feels good, and I won’t shrug it away. Donna takes my other hand, and June Bug stands so fast that his chair tips over. The doctor talks about complications and that Gaga is in the intensive care unit. The tears stream down my face as I listen. Words like rehabilitation and possible partial paralysis bounce around in my head.
I squeeze Mom’s hand as she listens. Unlike me, she hasn’t shed a single tear. That’s not surprising because she’s always been the strong one. She’s the oldest of her siblings, and she takes care of everyone. She’ll do it again this time because that’s what she does best.
As abruptly as the doctor came into the waiting room, he leaves and we’re left behind in stunned silence. A nurse comes, and we follow her to the intensive care unit. Only one of us can go in at a time, and we’re told that since she’s so fragile, they are limiting her to one visitor for tonight.
“You go, Auntie,” June Bug says.
I nod at my mom, and she follows the nurse through the door without another word. June Bug walks to a far corner, and I know it’s so I won’t see him cry. Donna follows him. As for me, I don’t care who sees. I burst into tears in the middle of the room. I cover my face with my hands and wail. I feel large hands on my shoulders again. I don’t try and move away. Not when he pulls my hands down from my face. Not when he tilts my chin up so I can look into his eyes. I know I must look like a mess. My eyes must be red. I’m sure the tip of my nose is as well, and there’s clear liquid oozing out of it. I don’t care. I don’t look away either. I take comfort in his green eyes, and I ask myself why I’ve never noticed how nice Seth Wakowski’s eyes are before this very moment.
I don’t pull away when he pulls me into his muscled broad chest—he’s so tall my head lands at his sternum—and wraps his arms around me. My cries get louder, and he rubs my lower back and makes soothing sounds.
“It will be okay,” he whispers repeatedly. He says those words so many times, that I start to believe them. He pulls me to the small couch on the opposite side of the room, and once we’re seated, he pulls me close, and I put my head on his shoulder.
Why does he always smell so good? He puts a hand on my lap, and for the first time, I notice how nice his fingers are. He holds me until the tears subside and all that’s left is an occasional sniffle.
My mom comes back, and her face is stoic and void of all color. She looks as if she’s aged years in only a matter of minutes. She looks frail. She comes and sits next to me and takes my hand. I remain in Seth’s arms. I’ve never had a man comfort me like this. Not since I was a little girl and my dad would hug me. The closest I get to that now is June Bug threatening to beat someone’s ass on my behalf for any imagined slight. Or when he lifts me off my feet and tosses me on the couch just because he can.
June Bug and Donna come over and we all wait for my mother to speak.
“She is still unconscious,” Mom says. “She looked so old,” she whispers. “So frail.” A tear falls, and she swipes it away. “We’re going to need to talk and make some decisions as a family.” Her voice cracks, and my tears start all over again. “I’ve never seen my mother look so small,” she chokes out.
“Stell, maybe we should go home, and everyone can talk tomorrow,” Donna says, but my mom shakes her head. “You don’t need to figure everything out now.”
“I can’t leave her here,” she says. “She’s always been there for me. I can’t abandon her in this hospital.”
“You won’t be. I’ll be right back here with you tomorrow, but you’ll need food and rest so you can figure things out. She wouldn’t want you twisting yourself like a pretzel sleeping here,” Donna says.
“I’ll stay, Auntie,” June Bug volunteers. “I’m off tomorrow. Bring me a change of clothes in the morning.
We decide to take shifts going to the hospital. Mom and Donna went this morning to relieve June Bug. I’ll be going after work, and my mom’s sister will meet me there. June Bug’s father hasn’t returned any of Mom’s calls yet, but I don’t expect him to.
Despite the stroke not being as serious as we thought, the news isn’t good. She’s going to need to go to inpatient rehab. She’s confused and doesn’t know where she is. She became combative with one of the nurses when they were making her walk.
I stare at my computer screen, unable to think of a single thing to do. My phone buzzes, and it’s a text from Jeannie checking on me. I pick up the phone to reply, but my vision blurs with tears and I don’t know what to type. Then it vibrates in my hand, and I recognize the number. It’s Wakowski. I smile for the first time today. He was incredibly sweet yesterday, and it was nice to have him there. He drove us all home before coming inside and ordering us dinner before he left to get Jasmine.
I feel a twinge of guilt for judging him so harshly before. He’s not bad at all now that I think about it.
“Hey,” I say with a sniffle.
As always, he doesn’t bother saying hello. “I’m outside. Jasmine wanted to see you.” Hearing Jasmine cooing in the background, I end the call and open the front door for them.
As usual, Jasmine is strapped to his chest, and he’s holding two big brown paper bags. He walks past me and goes inside. We don’t speak, but as he puts the Tupperware containers on the table, I get plates and pull the highchair over. After strapping Jasmine in, I sit down.
Today he brought baked chicken, sautéed vegetables, and diced potatoes. It’s delicious, and I don’t shy away from eating a large portion.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
He nods but looks up and grins at me. I never noticed how nice his smile was before.
“Nom nom,” Jasmine says while nibbling on a drumstick. Her face is so greasy, I get a paper towel and wipe it.
We don’t speak anymore while we eat. Once we’re done, I clear the table while he takes Jasmine to the bathroom to clean her up. They’re gone for a while, and when he returns, she’s not with him.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I put her to sleep on your bed.”
“It’s fine,” I say as I turn on the dishwasher. After making sure the kitchen is back in order, I go to my work laptop.
“Um, can I talk to you for a second?” he asks. I look at him, and he gestures to the couch. I nod, but I check my work to make sure there’s nothing urgent I need to do right now. I sit on the couch and wait for him to speak.
He gets up and comes back with a backpack. He pulls out a folder and puts it on the coffee table. I pick it up, and it’s a brochure for a rehabilitation center in Manhattan. He pulls out another, and it’s for an elite nursing home. I’m familiar with this nursing home, but only because there is no scenario in this world where we can afford it. It’s the Cadillac of nursing homes, and right now, we can barely afford a low-class sedan.
“Thank you, but we can’t afford either of those places. The hospital is trying to find her a rehab—”
“You know someone who can afford it,” he says.
The only person I know who can afford these places is my old boss Jeannie, who is now one of my best friends. There’s no way I can ask this of her. She hired me at the hotel despite having no experience. She took me with her to corporate. She made me a bridesmaid at her wedding. She introduced me to Manhattan’s elite. I’m part of her inner circle. She’s done so much for me already that I can’t ask her for anything more.
“I can’t ask Jeannie to pay for—”
“Not Jeannie. Me,” he says.
I sit there frozen before I start to cough. He pats my back, and I move away from him.
“What did you just say?” I stand and go to the other side of the room to get as far away from him as possible because there’s no way I heard what I thought I did.
“I said I will pay for Gaga’s rehab, and when she’s released, if you want her to go to this home, I’ll pay for that too. If you’d rather she stay here, I can arrange to have—”
I hold up a hand and he stops talking. “Why on earth would you do that for me? We don’t even like each other.”
“I like you,” he says. He stands too and walks over to me.
I’m frozen, and with each step he takes, I feel my heart beating against my ribs. “No. I can’t accept that.” I shake my head at him. “Thank you, but that’s too much.”
“Listen, come and sit back down.” He offers me his hand, and without thinking about it, I put mine in his. I never noticed how soft and supple his skin is. His hand is warm too. It’s nice.
We walk back to the couch, and this time, when we sit, he moves much too close to me. His cologne hits, and I remember how good he smelled yesterday.
“I can’t take charity,” I tell him.
“It’s not charity. There’s something I will need back from you.” For the first time since I’ve known him, he seems a little nervous. Some color creeps up his face. I gasp and start to stand, but he puts a hand on my lap, keeping me in place.
I never noticed how strong he was before.
Unable to stand, I put a hand to my chest to try and calm my rapidly beating heart.
“I knew it. I knew you wanted to sleep with me. I told you the day would never come when I would go to bed with you. God,” I say, putting a hand on my forehead and pushing my bangs out of the way. “You really have gone through all the women in this city, and now you’re sniffing around me. I bet you’ve screwed everyone in the state.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sick of you calling me a whore and throwing my past in my face. Why are you so damn judgmental? I had sex. So what? Everyone I slept with was willing.” I open my mouth to argue, but he talks first. “I’m not trying to sleep with you. I mean, I would like to, but that’s not what I’m getting at here.” I throw a pillow at him in horror, and he laughs at me. “What I’m asking for is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“That still sounds sexual to me,” I say, my voice rising.
“Shh.” He puts one of his long fingers to his lips. I clear my throat and look away.
“Look, Gaga will need a lot of help, and you want her to have the best care. I can make sure she gets it.” I stare into his face and wait to hear more. He’s right about that, so I don’t bother arguing with him. “And I need help with Jasmine.” My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. Of course, that’s what he needs. He’s crazy about his daughter, and that might be his only redeeming quality. That and his cooking, but I won’t tell him that. It makes sense that he would need help with her, especially when basketball season resumes and he’s gone so much.
I’m not sure if I buy his explanation about the nanny, but if it’s true, I can understand his reluctance to hire another one.
“Oh,” I say, taking a breath of relief. “You want me to help you find a suitable nanny? I can do that. And I know I can find someone better than the one you hired. I can ask Vickie—”
He holds his hand up. “I can ask Vickie myself. That’s not what I need from you.”
“You want me and my mom to watch her for you when you’re working? She’s really attached to you, so I don’t know—” I stop talking and look around. I don’t know how that would work out. We don’t have the space to give her her own room, and I don’t know how she would react to so much change. Besides, there’s still the issue of who is going to watch her when we’re at work. “You’ll have to put her in daycare, and then maybe—”
“Will you let me finish? Sheesh,” he says. “I’m not looking for you to be a babysitter.”
“Then I don’t know what you want.” I stand abruptly, unwilling to think further about what he’s saying. There’s no way he’s asking what I think he’s asking. No way.
I go to the kitchen and pretend to wipe the already clean table. I’m not there longer than a minute before he walks behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. Only his hands touch me, but I can feel the heat of his body, and I wonder why I never noticed how warm he is.
He slowly spins me around to face him. When I can’t or won’t meet his eyes, one of his large hands grasps my chin and forces me to look up.
“I think you do know,” he whispers.
I break the stare and shake my head. “Look, I will help when I can, but whatever I can do won’t be worth you paying tens of thousands of dollars a month for Gaga’s care.”
“It will be if you marry me.” All the air leaves the room when he says those words. I look into his face to see if he’s serious. What I see in his eyes makes me shake my head.
“Are you insane, Whorekowski? You are out of your fucking mind,” I whisper as if we’re not the only two people here. “You’re lucky I don’t slap you for saying some dumb shit like that.”
I move away from him and stomp to the other side of the room.