Savannah did so, then prepared the defibrillator machine, attached the leads to the man’s chest.
“All clear,” Charlie ordered and everyone stepped away from the man.
Savannah pushed the button to activate the defibrillator.
The man’s body gave a jerk and his heart did a few abnormal beats.
“Let me know the second it’s recharged,” Charlie ordered, having taken over the chest compressions for Chrissie.
“Now,” Savannah told him.
“All clear,” he warned.
As soon as everyone had stepped back, Savannah hit the button, sending another electrical shock through the man’s body.
His heart did a wild beat then jumped back into a beating rhythm. Not a normal one, but one that would sustain life for the moment.
“I’m going to take him into the cardiac lab. He needs an ablation of the abnormal AV node, a pacemaker, and a permanent defibrillator put in STAT.”
“Yes, sir.”
By this time, other staff had entered the room and a transport guy and Savannah wheeled the patient toward the cardiac lab, Charlie beside them.
Chrissie called the lab, told them of the emergency situation and that Dr. Keele was on his way with his patient.
Savannah helped to get the patient settled in the surgical lab, then turned to go.
“Savannah?”
Slowly, she turned toward Charlie, met eyes she’d once loved looking into. Now, she just wanted him to hurry up and leave.
He searched her face for something, but she couldn’t be sure what, just that his expression looked filled with regret. That she understood. She had regrets. Dozens of them. Hundreds. All centering around him.
She’d been so stupid.
“You did a great job back there,” he finally said, although his words fell flat.
She swallowed back the nausea rising in her throat and wanted to scream. They were broken up. He shouldn’t be being nice. And if he said, Let’s just be friends, it might be him needing resuscitation because she might just choke him out.
Rather than answer, she gave him a squint-eyed glare, then turned to go.
When she got outside the lab, she leaned against the cold concrete wall and fought crumbling. Fought throwing up. Fought curling into a fetal position and letting loose the pain inside her.
Two months.
She could do anything for two months.
Only, really, wasn’t she just fooling herself every time she thought two months?
Wasn’t she really looking at the rest of her life because, with the baby growing inside her, she’d have a permanent connection to Charlie?
A permanent connection she’d been so happy about, but now—now she wasn’t sure. How could she be happy about a baby when the father didn’t want her?
Would he want their child?
When was she supposed to tell him? Before he left? After he left? Before the baby got here? After the baby got here?
Never?