Page 119 of Good as Gold
“Shit.” Nash drops his head. “I don’t think anyone at BrewCo has ever asked for a leave of absence.”
“You can have first tracks, then.”
He snorts.
“Six weeks of utter pain,” he grumbles. “That’s what you want from me. And he’ll never say thank you.”
“But I will,” I point out. “And think of all the new ink you could get while you’re up here. If there’s still room somewhere on your body.”
He gives me a rueful grin.
We lapse into silence, and I rub my swollen stomach. Nash watches me, curiosity in his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re really having a baby.”
“Well, it’s not a beach ball under here.”
“And you still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
I shake my head. “Too superstitious.”
His smile softens. “Other than six weeks of my life, what do you want for a baby gift? Do you have one of those registries?”
“Honestly, it’s all taken care of.”
“Really?”
“Trust me. You’re off the hook for baby gifts.”
“Look, have you had lunch?”
I shake my head.
“I’m going to go get us something to eat. I need to clear my head. Want a Thai wrap from the deli?”
“You know I do.”
My brother leaves the office, and I will myself to get up and check in with the guys in the canning room. But before I do, the phone on my father’s desk rings. I answer it. Big mistake. It’s the hospital’s billing department calling, and it turns out they’ve got last year’s version of his insurance card. “He has a new group number,” the caller insists. “We can’t bill his insurance until we get this straight.”
“But I don’t know where to find the new one, and I don’t have his old details memorized. Youtookhis insurance card—with the 800 number on the back—and didn’t return it.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, we can’t move ahead with his transfer until we have the correct billing information.”
I just want to cry. But my phone is ringing again.Matteo. I silence it, but he callsrightback.
“Could you hold a moment, please?” I say to the billing guy. He won’t go anywhere if he wants his money. Then I answer my cell phone. “Matteo, I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time.”
“But I’ve been calling all day!” he argues. “I just heard about your dad, and how you left your job—”
“Yessir. Which means I’m on the phone with the hospital.”
“Allday?”
“Feels like it. And when I’m not on the phone, I’m running around trying to figure out how my father’s company works.”
“Leila—should you be on your feet like that?”
And I see red. It’s like he found my last nerve and yanked it. “Are you questioning my judgement from two thousand miles away? When I’m doing the best I can?”
“Umm…I’m justworried, here. You shouldn’t have to run the world right now.”
