Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Probably not. Since Sara passed, I’ve been known to be a moody old bastard.
Dr. Richards strides through the door, bringing me back to the present, and I watch as he checks over Georgia before finally telling me that she’s doing much better and that with a new Ventolin prescription and dosage, she’ll be discharged this morning.
“Thank goodness, Georgie Girl,” I say to my little girl, giving her a squeeze. “We get to go home soon.”
She smiles up at me in relief as the nurse with the breakfast cart comes and pokes her head through the door and offers Georgie a plate. She greedily accepts and is busy chowing down before the nurse has even left the room.
The hours slowly tick by, and despite being told that we’ll be discharged this morning, I realize it could still be a very long wait. I sit impatiently waiting at the end of Georgie’s bed, desperate to get out of here and get my little girl home. Looking down at my watch, I groan. I need to be in court in three hours, and despite how badly I want to stay right here beside my little girl, I don’t exactly have the kind of job that offers me freedom.
I pull my phone out and bring up Logan’s number before pressing it against my ear. It rings three times before his too-cheery voice sails through the line. “Yo, what’s up?”
“You got any plans today?” I ask with a cringe. It’s the beginning of a new hockey season, and since he has his first game at the end of the week, he should be back in training. I’m hoping like fuck today is a rest day for him.
“Just have a team meeting this morning, then free as a bird,” he tells me. “Why? What’s up?”
Relief fills my veins, and I let out a heavy sigh. “Do you think you guys could watch Georgie for a few hours? I’ve got to head into court.”
“Sure, but it’s Monday. Doesn’t Georgie usually go to preschool today?” he questions.
“Usually, yeah,” I explain, letting him hear the exhaustion in my tone, not needing to mask it with my family. “We had a shit night. By the fourth asthma attack, she ended up in the hospital unable to breathe. We’ve been here all night.”
“Fuck,” Logan curses, cutting off my explanation of our horrendous night, sounding as though he’s getting up and racing around his home, his keys already in hand. “Is she okay? We’re coming down.”
“No, don’t come down. She’ll be discharged soon. She’s doing much better, but I need her to be with someone I can trust, especially today. I’ve got the Sanchez case, and I can’t afford to be distracted. I know the school is good and on the ball with her asthma, but there are fifty other kids there for them to worry about. I can’t have anything slipping through the cracks, not today.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “Sure thing, man. Just bring her around whenever you need. I can Zoom the team meeting. Management will understand.”
“Thanks, bro,” I tell him. “We’ll be there in roughly an hour, depending how quickly Georgie gets discharged.”
I end the call and am delighted when a nurse comes in and gives me all the discharge papers, but no one is more delighted than Georgie. I get straight to work and sign everything that needs to be signed before collecting Georgie and finally leaving the room.
Georgie chatters away, and we’re halfway down the hall when I find myself pausing and doubling back to the nurses’ station. A young nurse, maybe twenty-five or so is sitting at the table, her head and shoulder practically glued together as she holds the phone between them, clearly bored while waiting on hold.
She looks up at me as I approach, and I give her an awkward smile, not really knowing what I’m doing. “Hi, uhh . . . Mel,” I say, glancing down to read her name badge.
She gives me a welcoming smile, and her eyes sparkle as though she knows something she shouldn’t—something I see way too often with the guilty pricks I face in the courtroom. “Hi there,” she says politely, though something tells me she’s anything but. “How can I help you?”
“I know this is probably a long shot, but I was wondering if the nurse who took care of my daughter was here. I’d like to thank her.”
“Really?” she questions, looking as though she’s about to burst. “That wouldn’t be Gigi, would it? Petite brunette, super cute with a killer smile and an ass—” She cuts herself off, glancing at Georgie in my arms before correcting herself, “booty to die for?”
“Yeah, that’s her,” I say, feeling a little odd agreeing to those things, but she’s not wrong. “Is she around?”
“No, actually. She isn’t,” she says with a cringe before quickly glancing up and down the hall. I can practically see the lightbulb go off in her mind, and not a second later, she pulls her phone out of her scrubs and writes something down on a pink Post-it note. “Here,” she says a moment later, handing me the little piece of scrap paper. “That’s Gigi’s number, but don’t tell anyone you got it from me.”