Page 111 of About that Fling
He turned to see Gert bustling out of the restaurant, her hair wild and her coat flying. She spotted them on the street corner and hurried toward them, running damn fast for a seventy-eight-year-old woman. Adam moved toward her, bracing himself to catch her if she tripped.
But she didn’t trip, and she waved him away as he approached.
“We have to go to the hospital now!” she shouted.
Jenna gasped, drawing a hand to her mouth. “The baby. Mia’s having the baby?”
“No,” Gert panted, halting on the sidewalk. “No, not the baby.”
Jenna moved toward her, reaching out as she drew closer to her aunt. “What is it?”
“It’s Mark.” Gertie drew a hand to her throat, her eyes wild and fearful. “He’s been shot.”
Adam blinked, fighting to process the words. “Shot?”
“Shot,” Gert repeated, nodding. “By his ex-wife.”
Jenna drove in a trance to the hospital with Mia beside her looking pale and stunned. She held her phone in her lap, but she wasn’t looking at it. She stared out the window, wordless and stiff, with her red hair falling over her face like a curtain.
“How did it happen?” Jenna asked, braking at a red light she wished she could run right through.
“They don’t know. The police are still at the house trying to sort through the details.” She fell silent, and for a moment, Jenna thought that’s all she intended to offer. Jenna nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
Mia cleared her throat. “Apparently she had a handgun in her purse. She was arguing with him about something and dropped it on the floor, and somehow?—”
She broke off sobbing, her face crumpling into a mess of tears and terror. Jenna reached over and touched her arm. “Mia, I’m so sorry. For everything. I don’t even know where to begin?—”
“Don’t,” Mia whispered. “Not now. I just want to get to the hospital and see Mark. That’s what matters right now.”
Jenna nodded, withdrawing her hand. She took a sharp right turn onto the road leading to Belmont, thankful at least that the ambulance had brought Mark to this hospital. She knew the exact location of the ER, the spot in back where she was sure to find parking. “Do you want me to drop you in front or come in with you?”
Mia seemed to hesitate. “Come in with me.”
Jenna nodded, not sure whether to take it as a positive sign or a practical one. Did it matter at this point? Mark had been shot. Her best friend’s husband—for better or worse, even if right now things fell solidly in the worse camp. Jesus, what was Mia feeling?
She turned into the parking lot, trying not to picture the look on Mia’s face the moment she’d realized Jenna’s betrayal. The moment Jenna had stood and fled, leaving her behind without answers or explanations.
She looked at Mia now and her gut twisted. The only thing worse than seeing this much pain on her best friend’s face was knowing she’d caused it. Some of it, anyway.
“Here,” Jenna said, pulling into a spot tucked off to the side near the ER entrance. Mia had the car door open before Jenna had even pulled her keys out of the ignition, and she was halfway to the hospital door by the time Jenna caught up with her. “Careful, Mia,” Jenna cautioned, reaching for her elbow. “The ground gets slick here.”
“I know, I’m okay.” Mia hurried ahead, one hand on her belly.
The automatic doors whooshed open, and they found themselves blinking in the brightly lit lobby of the ER. A nurse rushed over with a wheelchair. “Ma’am? Let’s get you to the birthing center right away.”
“No,” Mia said, throwing her arm out as though stopping the nurse from forcibly taking her. “I’m not in labor. I’m here to see my husband. Mark Dawson? He’s been shot. I’m Mia—Amelia Dawson. Please, someone tell me what’s happening.”
The nurse’s expression changed from all business to sympathy, and Jenna tried not to think the worst.
“Come with me,” the nurse said, shoving the wheelchair aside. She looked at Jenna. “Are you a relative?”
“No, I?—”
“Family only, you wait here.” She pointed to a hard plastic chair in the waiting area, and Jenna sat automatically, too terrified to argue. She watched as the nurse led Mia away. Through the florescent haze, she saw the slump of her friend’s shoulders and the slow, awkward gait of her movement.
The doors leading outside whooshed open again, and Gertie rushed in with Adam on her heels. Gert looked around, her white hair frizzy and wild as she scanned the waiting area. Spotting Jenna, she hustled over with her handbag banging against her hip.
“What did they say?” Gertie demanded. “How’s Mark?”
