Page 48 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ASH

Hanging up on Summer, I jump when Ru sidles up beside me and holds a cup in front of me. Sam’s cup. The giant white mug that can fit enough coffee in it to kill a mule.

“How’s he doing?” He claps a hand to my shoulder, silently offering his support.

“Okay.” I take the mug and sip at the hot contents. I haven’t been able to thaw out since I left Sam at the hospital in the early hours of the morning. Haven’t slept either. “They say it was Stress cardiomyopathy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Summer says it was definitely a heart attack, but when they did the tests they didn’t find any blockages. The doctor thinks it’s stress related. That his cortisol and adrenaline levels shot through the roof and his heart sort of shut down to protect itself.”

“That’s good, right?” he asks. “Better than we expected?”

“I think so. Summer said they expect he should fully recover. That none of the heart muscle actually died, but were stunned. The hospital’s going to keep him for up to a week. Run some more tests.” The heat of the cup is so hot it burns my hands, but at least that’s something I can feel that isn’t this wretched uncertainty. “Summer said the nurse says it was a result of a broken heart. This is because of me. I caused it.”

“You caused him to have a heart attack or this cardiomyopathy?” Ru raises his eyebrows.

“No. I caused the stress. Coming here. And then last night…” I hadn’t meant to take off when I walked outside after the phone conversation with my father. I just needed some fresh air and a few minutes to pull myself together.

But then Luca messaged me. He shouldn’t have been able to find me, but somehow he did. He was in town and waiting for me. He told me to meet him or my name would be everywhere within twenty-four hours. I had to at least try to reason with him. Then I was going to tell Sam everything about Luca’s threats and demands for money. I was even going to come clean about why I really left all those years ago. I was going to explain that I heard what his father said about me, and that I couldn’t deny it. For so long I’ve kept my distance because I thought it was worse to lose love than avoid it. I just wanted to prove to him that I could handle myself, first; that I wasn’t here with him because I needed him to look after me. And that I’m not telling him what he wants to hear like I have before.

“Come on now, Mischief.” Ru shakes his head and his curls bounce. “You’re giving yourself too much credit, don’t you think? If anything, you’ve probably helped his stress levels these last couple weeks. The first year in business is hard for anyone. Add in the fact he’s been running point in the kitchen, and that’s a tremendous amount of pressure. I’m not surprised the stress finally made him crack.”

“You didn’t see his face last night.” Putting the coffee down to rub at my arms, I glance at the door. “I pushed him off the ledge. He wants me gone.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t want to, but I don’t want to cause him more stress. And you told me when I got here that I couldn’t stay. That this couldn’t be my home. Maybe you were right.”

“I told you that because you were behaving like a spoiled brat.” He starts moving around the kitchen and preparing for the breakfast shift. “That’s not the same girl I’ve known these past couple weeks.”

“Isn’t it?” I don’t feel different. Not really.

“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you? You haven’t taken off. You’re not drunk off your ass. I’d say that counts for something.”

“Perhaps.” But then I always ran to Sam when I couldn’t handle the world alone. Running away from him was meant to be for his own good. Staying… That’s different. “He wouldn’t even look at me when he woke up. Do you think it’s too little too late?”

“Could be.” He disappears into the pantry and comes back with an armful of ingredients. “That’s not the question though, is it?”

“What?” I rest against the counter. Can barely hold myself up now. All the adrenaline that’s pumped through my veins while I waited to find out how Sam was is wearing off.

Ru gives me a sympathetic glance. “Since you’re obviously staying, are you going help me run this kitchen until Sam’s back on his feet? Or are you going to wallow?” He pulls a knife from the magnetic strip above his station. “Because we have a lot to do.”

“Actually,” I tell him, pointing to the suitcase near the door. “I’m heading back to the hospital. I told him I’m not going anywhere, and I meant it. I have to be there for him.”

“All right.” He nods.

“But if there’s anything I can do while I’m there, I want to help. If you need me to make phone calls or emails, I’ll do that.” The restaurant is his baby, and I can’t let it suffer either. It’s my turn to hold his world together, and I won’t let him down. “Whatever you need.”

***

“He’s doing much better.” Summer holds my hand while we sit together outside Sam’s hospital room. “The doctors are happy with his recovery so far. They said he can go home in a few more days. We’re thinking of taking him to our place, to keep him away from work for the time being. You understand, don’t you?”

I nod. It’s been a couple days and he still won’t look at me. Each time I walk into his hospital room he turns away from me. He doesn’t say anything. I want to explain what happened, but when I try the machine that monitors his heart starts beeping faster and a nurse appears before I can get the words out. I’ve taken to sitting with him when he’s asleep. Staying until he wakes and tells me to leave. But I won’t. I can’t. The rest of the time I spend doing whatever Ru asks me to do for the restaurant from this seat outside his room. “That’s probably for the best.”

Her eyes plead with me to understand. “If things were better…”

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