That's when it occurs to me: I haven't eaten. Too much caffeine on an empty stomach.
When the lightheadedness subsides, I slowly turn toward the pastry case. All the usual suspects are there, but a particular apple fritter is calling my name. I don't love apples, but the thin slices and cinnamon swirls are calling my name.
"I'll take an apple fritter, please," I say, laying cash on the counter.
"Sure thing," the barista with the shiniest brown hair I've ever seen says. I watch as she reaches into the case, and my vision starts to blur.
"Fancy running into you here," I hear Fisher say, stepping up behind me.
"Hey," I answer, my voice small as I close my eyes to shut out the blurred vision setting in. I need that fritter ASAP.
"You okay?" he asks, his hand resting on my shoulder as I hold onto the counter.
"Yeah, just need to get some food in my stomach," I assure him.
"One apple fritter," the barista pushes my pastry across the counter.
I open my eyes to take it, desperate for the sugar and relief seconds away, when my heart quickens, and a ringing in my ears sets in. "Oh no," I say regretfully as I feel my knees buckle.
Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground. "Laney... Laney, can you hear me?" his voice echoes from somewhere far away, growing fainter with each repetition.
The warmth of his embrace is the last thing I feel before darkness takes me completely.
"Seriously,you brought me to the emergency room? Fish, I just needed to eat that damn pastry, and I would have been good. Now, I'll have to pay an ER visit bill. Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost me?" I fume as I sit in the stupid bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for bloodwork to come back.
"Oh, so it's my fault you didn't eat today? I suppose it's also my fault you were unresponsive longer than medically acceptable. For your information, the shop called the ambulance. You were a liability." He starts opening cabinets, being nosy as one does in a tiny exam room with nothing else to do. "Don't worry about the bill. I'll pay it."
"You don't need to pay my bills, Fish. I can handle them. I'm just saying it sucks to pay a thousand dollars because I didn't eat breakfast," I groan.
"Did you tell London?"
"I called and texted…no response," he says, closing the last cabinet and turning to face me, arms crossed with boredom.
"You don't have to stay. I'm fine. You can see that."
"Stop trying to kick me out. It's not happening." His eyes roam around the room. "I'm just not a fan of emergency rooms. They creep me out."
That makes me laugh. "Are you serious? Why?"
"Are you saying you haven't been sitting there, wondering how many people died on that bed you're waiting on?"
I can feel my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. "Umm, not until you just said that," I say, sitting up instead of lying down like I was. "Thanks for that." Trying to get my mind off the number of dead people who may have occupied this bed, I ask, "Did London seem okay when you saw him today?"
Fisher has been staying at Hale Ranch since he came to town. I'm not sure what his long-term goals are, but I know he's liked playing a hands-on role at the ranch. Before coming here, his role as a bloodstock broker was done behind a screen. I don't think hehas any plans of returning to Europe or living in a city. Country life suits him.
"I didn't see him this morning, so I couldn't tell you." He crosses his legs at the ankle. "Why? Did something happen?"
I drop my eyes to the blanket. Fisher can read me like a book, and I don't want to spill the beans on our engagement yet. I know London would want to tell his best friend in person.
"No, nothing happened. He just seemed a little distant when he dropped me off, is all. It's probably just me." I shrug it off. "I mean, look at me. I'm the one who can't remember to eat breakfast," I force a laugh into my tone, one that Fish clearly isn't buying.
He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the door swings open. "Sorry for making you wait so long, Miss Hart. The lab took longer than expected to process your results." The doctor's eyes shift to Fisher, his expression turning professional. "Before I discuss Miss Hart's test results, I'm going to need to ask you to step outside."
"It's okay; he can stay," I say quickly, and Fisher moves closer to my bedside, his presence steadying me.
The doctor nods. "As long as you're comfortable with that." He glances down at his clipboard then back up at us. "Your glucose levels came back below normal, which we expected given that you hadn't eaten before the fainting episode. Your CBC also showed low hemoglobin counts, which often correlates with low blood sugar." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "However, since you mentioned no prior history of fainting or blood sugar issues, I ordered an additional test."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with anticipation, and my stomach knots. I know what the other test was. The doctor's eyes move from me to Fisher, something like caution flickering across his features.
