He couldn't believe he was sitting around, waiting for Rosalie to call. The worst part was that he'd been waiting for three days and driving everyone around him nuts.
He returned the reports to their files and threw them in his briefcase. He was shrugging on his suit jacket when his cell phone rang. "Hello." "Having a bad day, Nick?" "Lee?"
"It's Rosalie."
"How are you doing? You sound different."
"I'm well. You?"
"Fine."
"Look Nick, my meeting broke for a minute, and I have to get back, but I needed to call-" She coughed and cleared her throat.
"About tomorrow night?"
"Well, yes, that, and you have my car. You said someone took it to Romeo's. I thought you would drive it over on Tuesday, but... well, I got sidetracked and forgot to ask about it."
"Sidetracked, huh? Is that what you call it?"
"Nick, tell me you have my car."
"I have your car."
"Good. Do you still want to get together tomorrow night?" "Sure. Dinner and movie?"
"Could we do takeout and a rental? I haven't been home all week, and Dave is feeling neglected. Besides, I'm working on less than five hours sleep in the last two days, and tonight promises to be another late one."
"No problem. You pick the menu. I'll pick up a movie. What do you want to see?"
"Anything that's not depressing."
"Done. I'll see you about eight at your place. Don't stay out too late. You don't sound so good."
"I have a cough and a sore throat, but it's no big deal. I need sleep.
Nick heard someone call her.
"I'll be there in a minute. Thank you, Gina." She coughed again. Her cough sounded awful.
"Look Nick, I've got to run. See you tomorrow." He heard the dial tone before he could say good-bye.
Nick stood in the drama section of the video store, trying to pick out a chick flick Rosalie might like. He grabbed the one with shoes in the title. Cameron Diaz was hot, and he'd never met a woman who didn't have a sick fascination with shoes that he'd never understand. He got the movie of that Broadway show what's-her-name had been in while they'd been dating. Damn, he hoped the movie was different from the play. He'd seen the play a dozen times. And a comedy-couldn't miss with Monty Python. He picked up a box of microwave popcorn, Goobers, and Raisinettes and drove the Mustang to Rosalie's.
Nick stopped to pick up a box of condoms and a bouquet of flowers in the market down the street from her place. All he needed was wine and takeout, and the evening would be complete. He rang Rosalie's apartment and saw Dave barking at the front window, but Rosalie didn't buzz him in. He checked his watch. He was right on time. Dave continued to bark. A man walked out the security door, and Nick caught it before it closed. He went down the hall and knocked on Rosalie's door. Dave whined, and Nick knocked again. He turned the knob. She'd left the door unlocked, so he poked his head in.
"Lee?"
The place looked as if someone had tossed it. That didn't bother him, but Dave did. He sat beside the door, whining.
"Lee, it's Nick, can I come in?" No answer. What to do? Aw, the hell with it. He walked in, prepared for Dave to jump all over him, but Dave turned and ran to the bedroom. Nick followed and found Dave lying on the bed with his head on Rosalie's lap, and Rosalie sound asleep, looking like someone who'd been dead a week. She wore a ratty T-shirt and held a box of tissues under her arm. Used tissues littered the bed all around her. A bottle of cough medicine sat on the bedside table next to an empty glass. Dave whined again.
Nick dropped the bag and sat beside her. When he brushed the hair from her forehead, her eyelids fluttered open. She was burning up.
"Nick?" Rosalie coughed for a minute. Damn, she sounded like she had pneumonia. "What are you doing here?"
"We had a date, remember? DVDs and takeout? Sound familiar?"
"Didn't you get my message? I called your cell... hey, how did you get in here, anyway?"
"Dave let me in."
"Oh." Her eyelids closed.
"Lee, wake up." She didn't move. Nick picked up the tissues, tossed them in the trash can, and took her glass into the kitchen. She needed juice and something to bring down her fever. He opened the fridge and found it emptier than his. There was one egg, three beers, a yogurt, expired milk, and the usual condiments. He grabbed a beer, opened it, and took a long pull. He filled a glass with water, got the bottle of acetaminophen out of the cabinet above the sink, and wondered where she kept her thermometer. He checked the medicine chest, but all he found was Midol and girl shit. No thermometer.
Nick sat beside Rosalie and gave her a good shake. "Wake up. Time to take your medicine."
She opened her eyes. "I hate pills."
"I know. Take these anyway. You have a fever." He popped them in her mouth and handed her the water. "I'm going out to get dinner. Where are your keys? I'll need to get back in."
Rosalie took the pills. "I don't know... there's an extra set in the drawer next to the sink. But Nick, you don't have to do this. I'm fine. I need a little rest, that's all."
"Don't worry about it. You rest. I'll be right back." He kissed her forehead, and she mumbled something about being tired. He stood and looked down at her. What had he gotten himself into?
Rosalie awoke in the middle of the night, coughing. Nick sat, as he had all night, with her between his legs and her back leaning against his bare chest. He'd been going back and forth, trying to decide what he should do-take her to the hospital, or wait for morning and get her to a doctor. Her fever was high, and the medicine wasn't helping.
She coughed so hard, he worried she'd break something, and she wasn't breathing well. He rubbed her back. "It's okay." Heat radiated from her, and she wasn't due for more acetaminophen for an hour and a half.
"Lee, your fever's up. I need to take you to the emergency room. This isn't a cold."
"Nick? What are you doing here?" "Taking care of you. Now come on, let's get you dressed. I'm taking you to the hospital."
Chapter Seven.
Nick stood at the pay phone in the ER. He couldn't use his cell phone in the hospital, and he wasn't about to chance a walk outside in case Rosalie's doctor came to tell him what was going on. He only had two numbers memorized besides his own-his mother's and his cousin Vinny's. There was no way he would call his mother for help with a girl. She'd be planning the wedding before he hung up the damn phone. Not that Vinny's wife Mona was much better, but maybe his luck would change and Vinny would answer. "Hello?"
So much for that. "Mona, it's Nick."
"Nick? Who's sick?"
"How do you know someone's sick?"
"I hear a doctor being paged in the background."
"Oh, right. It's Lee. We're at Brooklyn Hospital's ER."
"Is she okay?"
"I don't know. The doctors think it's pneumonia. They're taking X-rays. Listen, let me talk to Vinny." "He's not here. It's his week to take Nana to church." "Shit, that's right, it's Sunday." "What do you need, Nick?"
"Mona, have Vin go to my place and pack clothes for me, maybe enough for two or three days. Oh, and tell him to get my cell phone charger. It's on my desk in the study. He's got the key."
"Okay."
"And go to the store and get whatever I'll need for Lee. There's nothing but batteries in her refrigerator, so I need you to do major shopping. You know, get everything I need to make chicken soup and buy the basics so I can throw together quick dinners for myself. I need stuff for her fever, a thermometer, juice-whatever, and bring it to her place. I should have her home in a couple hours."
"You're going to take care of her?"
Nick scrubbed his hand over his face. "I can't leave her by herself, can I?"
"No, but you could call her family. Let them take care of her."
No way. He'd heard how that mother of hers spoke to her. Rosalie didn't need to deal with that nudje when she was sick as a dog. "Look, Mona, it's not a big deal."
"I never thought I'd see the day when Nick Romeo would care for anyone other than himself."
"Hey, I care for people. Look at you and Vin."
"You have to care for us. We're family."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."
"Don't try to pull that crap on me, Nicky."
"Mona, just get the stuff I need, will you?"
"Okay, I'll be there in a few hours."
He gave her Rosalie's address and hung up before she could start again.
Rosalie wanted to go home. She'd never been in a hospital before in her life, except for when she was born, and she didn't want to start hanging out in one now. She pulled the oxygen mask off her face to tell the nurse putting a clothespin-type thingy on her finger that she was leaving.
"Oh, no, you don't." He said in a Mike Tyson voice.
Leaving wouldn't be easy. Nurse Gus not only sounded like Mike Tyson; he was built like him, too. Rosalie didn't have the strength to fight him.
"You need the oxygen," he said as he repositioned the mask on her face.
"I need my clothes."
"We're going to take a little trip to Radiology for a few chest shots." He released a brake and rolled the bed through the curtained area. Rosalie moved her hand to hold the side-rail, and it hurt like a son of a bitch. Oh, my God! There was a tube stuck in the top of her hand. She'd forgotten about that.
Rosalie hadn't forgotten that Nick had brought her there. Where was he? "Nick?"
The nurse patted her arm but kept rolling her down the hall. "Don't worry; your man's still here. He's pacing the waiting room. He hasn't stopped barraging us with questions, not that we're complaining. He's a cutie."
Rosalie shot the nurse a you-haven't-got-a-snowball's-chance-in-hell look.
"Girl, jus' 'cause the store's closed don't mean I can't window-shop."
By the time she got back to the ER, Rosalie was ready for a nap. Who knew X-rays were so draining? Maybe it wasn't the X-rays. Maybe it was all that moving around while trying to keep her butt covered. Nurse Gus parked her bed in the little cubicle where the doctor was talking to Nick. Dr. Deena Jansen was your usual nightmare- tall, thin, blonde, and gorgeous, with the best boobs money can buy. Did doctors give each other discounts? She could see it now... "I'll trade you a boob job for an appendectomy and a tonsillectomy." "Hey, that's no fair..." "I'll trade you a boob job for an appendectomy and a tonsillectomy." "Hey, that's no fair..."
"What do you mean? You got two boobs. It's twice the work."
The doctor's husky voice drew Rosalie from her mental meanderings.
"We gave her a heavy antibiotic in her IV, so she doesn't need to start this..." she handed Nick a prescription, "... until tomorrow morning. We've also given her IV steroids, so start these..." another prescription changed hands "... first thing in the morning as well, six for the first three days, then decrease to five for three days, and so on. The breathing treatments are every four hours around-the-clock, but if she's asleep and not having trouble breathing, don't wake her."
Nick folded the pile of prescriptions and placed them in his wallet. "Thanks, doc."
They were talking about her as if she wasn't there. Like she was in a coma or something.
"Who gave you permission to talk to Nick about my condition?" Rosalie meant to sound forceful, but even to her own ears, she sounded weak.
Nick and the doctor, who looked curiously like a Barbie doll, turned and stared at her. The doctor gave Rosalie one of those condescending smiles they must practice in med school and patted her hand. "You did, Ms. Ronaldi."
The nurse put the sides of the bed down and giggled.
Rosalie had never seen a 250-pound man giggle, but Nurse Gus did. It wasn't pretty.
"Well, that doesn't mean I want you talking about me as if I'm not here."
Nick reached for her hand, which she moved before he could catch it. Rosalie folded her arms, forgetting the darn IV. Shit, that hurt! It tugged on the blasted tape holding the IV in place. Ow!
Nick patted her shoulder. What the hell did she look like? A freaking dog?
"I'm going home."
The doctor looked at Nick, and Nick nodded. Then Dr. Barbie cleared her throat. "I'm releasing you, but only because your fiance said you'd get around-the-clock care. Frankly, I'd rather admit you, but he insisted that you'd refuse to stay."
Fiance? Nick smiled and squeezed Rosalie's shoulder... then he added a wink for good measure. Rosalie bit the side of her cheek. Jeez, she was sick, not stupid. She got it.
"Fine. Nick's right. I wouldn't stay. So tell me what's wrong with me, what I need to do, and let me out of here."
Nurse Gus started futzing with the IV and then pulled the tape off. Ow! The next thing she knew, he was pulling a needle the size of a coffee stirrer out of her hand.
The doctor tore a sheet off the top of her chart. "You, Ms. Ronaldi, have pneumonia. Here are the instructions I gave your fiance. He's already arranged to have the nebulizer delivered." She laid the instructions on the bed.
"Nebulizer?"
Nick patted Rosalie's shoulder again. "Don't worry, honey, I took care of it. Let's get you home."