Page 225 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

I’m not asking, but I appreciate his patience. I grab the phone and press it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Ms. Marché?”

I sit up, feeling sick to my stomach. He didn’t go into surgery that long ago, not quite two hours. Is this standard procedure to give an update at this stage? “Yes?”

“This is Nurse Wilcox. Are you close to the hospital?”

“No. I’m at home.” Using that word for this house makes me wince when it leaves my tongue. I look back once more at Jackson to catch a wave of pain rippling across his face.Dammit.

The nurse says, “You need to get here right away.”

I bolt to my feet. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Jackson’s already getting dressed when I pull the same pair of pants that I had just taken off right over my fitted shorts and slip on the flip-flops again.

As soon as we’re in the car, I say, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your dad needs to be your priority right now.” He glances over at me once more, and I notice the difference in the hue of his irises—a darker shade of blue that’s mislaid the light.

I’m losing him.

CHAPTER 30

Jackson

I made a promise I can’t keep.

Marlow’s been gone longer than expected. Sitting in the waiting room, I stare down the hall where a doctor and nurse flanked her sides and then led her away. It’s been more than thirty minutes, and I’m debating when I should go ask about her.

I’ve already been told once that I’ll have to wait since I’m not family.

I’mherfucking family. They may not know it, but I do.

Two nurses at the nurses’ station keep glancing over at me. I’m used to women staring at me and checking me out, but this is different. Their expressions are not filled with flirtation. As they whisper to each other, I stand, unable to read their faces, and return once again. “Hi, I’m here with Marlow Marché. Her father is in surgery.” I glance down the hall when the doors open, but it’s not her. “Since we were told not to use our cell phones in the hospital, I’m hoping you can update me.”

“We can’t give you any details since you’re not family, but we do understand that she’s alone and . . .” They stop to glance at each other again.

“Alone and what?”

The older one pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and then picks up the phone. “Let me see if I can locate her.”

“Thank you.” I step off to the side when a lady walks up to talk to the one at the computer.

I purposely eavesdrop, needing more information and hoping it will lead me to Marlow’s location. Fuck the rules. Although it’s tempting to call or text her, I’m not risking lives to do so, but I’ll physically search this maze until I find her.

She sets the phone down and signals me to the other end of the tall counter. “Ms. Marché would like to see you.”

Wait, has it been her keeping me out this entire time? “Okay.” I follow her down the hall. She swipes her key card to open the secured double doors. We go up another floor and down a long hallway. She’s not been answering any of my questions, but finally stops where two hallways intersect, and says, “I can’t give any updates. I’m sorry.”

As much as I don’t get what I want, I know she’s following policy to protect the patients and their families. Family. I want mine back. I want to see her smile and feel the brush of her hand against mine. I want to see her blue eyes finding me across a crowded room and taste her lips once more before I fall asleep.

“Here we are.” The nurse steps aside and says, “But I will say, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”

The drop of my stomach has me hesitating. The nurse doesn’t stay, but shit, what have they told her?

I slowly open the door to find Marlow staring out the window. Her back is to me, and she doesn’t move, not a muscle. I shut the door and then quietly cross the room. “Marlow?”

Her gaze pivots to me as her arms, which are crossed over her chest, tighten together. There’s an emptiness in the usually vibrant blue skies of her eyes, like death has already taken its toll. I reach out, but she shifts her shoulder.

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