He pats the chair beside him. “I knew you’d come. Plus, I wanted to be here in case anyone needed anything. A food run or someone to go back to the house to gather toiletries and a change of clothes if they’re going to keep John overnight.”
“You’re a good man.” I twist around to look at the doors that lead past the waiting room and into the emergency department, as if I can see through them and ascertain how things are going. “Have you heard anything?”
“Just that Julien’s worried his father might have had a stroke.”
I whip back around, my eyes wide. “That’s not good.”
My phone starts ringing in my purse, so I dig it out. Heart leaping to see it’s Julien calling, I punch the green accept circle harder than necessary. “Julien, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He sounds exhausted, his voice tight and ragged. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
“And your dad?” I hold my breath.
“They think he had a transient ischemic attack, which I guess is like a ministroke. He’s back getting an MRI right now. We’ll know more after that, but he seems to be doing a lot better.”
“Okay,” I say, processing the information. “Okay, that’s good.”
“I was so scared, Martha. I’m here sitting alone in this tiny room in the emergency department waiting for them to wheel him back in, and I can’t stop reliving the moment he got dizzy and fell. I can’t stop thinking about how I could have lost my father today.”
My heart twists. “You aren’t alone, Julien. I’m here.”
“I know. You’re here for me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. Just hearing your voice is already helping. I can’t imagine going through this without you. I’m beginning to wonder how I ever went through anything in my life without you.”
I grip the phone tighter, emotions swelling inside me. “No, I mean I’m here. I’m in the waiting room.”
“You are?” Relief echoes in every syllable. “Will you come back if I get someone to buzz you in?”
“If you want me to.”
“I do,” he assures me. “I want you so much.”
I stand up and lock eyes with Dad.Go, he mouths and shoos me away, settling back in his chair with a magazine. I walk to the doors and wait for the buzzing sound signaling they’re unlocked. Instead, they swing open and Julien stands on the other side. He pulls me into a tight hug and buries his face into the crook of my neck. I squeeze him back, rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades.
After a moment, he pulls away and takes my hand. “Come on. His room is right down here.”
There’s only one chair in the small room, which makes sensebecause I doubt the doctors and nurses want to crowd the area with overly concerned family members while they’re trying to do their jobs. Besides, I have no problem standing beside Julien, both figuratively and literally.
Julien walks to the chair and sits, but instead of letting me take up sentinel beside him, he tugs on my hand and pulls me down onto his lap, immediately wrapping me in his arms and nuzzling into me. He takes in a deep, slow breath, then takes just as long exhaling, as if that’s the first full breath he’s been able to experience all day.
“Thank you for coming.”
I pull my arm out from between our bodies and settle it around his shoulders, my fingers dipping into his hair to scratch his scalp. His body relaxes further as I offer what comfort I can through physical touch, rhythmically raking my fingers through his hair from root to tip and back again. His hand is warm and firm on my hip, anchoring me to him as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
He has nothing to worry about on that front. I don’t plan on going anywhere.
“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” I tilt my head to rest it on top of his. “I promise.”
The door opens and Mrs. King walks in, followed by a man in scrubs, pushing Mr. King in a wheelchair. I slide off Julien’s lap and stand. He stands as well, his body going tight.
“They said they’d come by with the results in about an hour,” Mrs. King explains at Julien’s expectant expression. She turns to me. “Hello, Martha dear. It’s so good of you to come and check up on us all.”
“Is there anything you need, Mrs. King? Anything I can get for you?”
Her smile is small and strained but nonetheless sincere. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. Although maybe it’s timeyou start calling me Tabitha?” She flicks a mischievous look at her son. “Unless you want to wait until you can call me Mom?”
I freeze, not really sure how to react to her teasing. On the one hand, it’s nice to have a moment of levity when the last couple of hours have been so heavy. On the other hand, I’m still processing this mental shift that Julien’s parents are fine with me dating their son.
Unbidden, my gaze moves to the hospital bed where Mr. King has settled. His eyes are on me as well.