All the Way (Romancing Manhattan 1)

“Me too,” Finn says grimly.

I hate the smell of hospitals. Disinfectant that seems to cling to my nostrils. They all smell the same, including this one. We’re walking down a long hallway, after a receptionist gave us Maggie’s room number.

Carter and Finn are walking like two men on a mission, and I have to practically jog to keep up with them. Their faces are fierce.

I definitely wouldn’t want to go up against them in a courtroom.

“I’m telling you, I’m perfectly fine,” we hear Maggie yell down the hallway, and I glance up in time to see Finn’s lips twitch with humor.

“She’s well enough to yell,” Carter says, relief in his voice.

We get to the doorway, and both men hurry in. There’s a third man, dressed in an old rock concert T-shirt and worn jeans, sitting in a chair across the room from her.

He looks just like Finn.

I hang back near the door and watch the scene before me. All three men are at the older woman’s bedside, and even in her hospital gown, she’s clinging on to her handbag, her face in a scowl.

“What’s going on, Mom?” Finn asks as he takes her hand in his.

“That fool,” she begins, pointing to Quinn, “called the ambulance for me.”

“Back up,” Carter says. “Why did he call the ambulance?”

“Because she passed out,” Quinn replies. “She went into the restroom and passed out, fell over, hit her head.”

“Mom?” Finn asks.

“I had a headache,” she says.

“You could have had a stroke,” Quinn says. “She called me, all disoriented, and told me she fell. So naturally I called 911 and hauled ass to her house.”

“Watch your language,” Maggie snaps. “Yes, I have a headache. And its name is Quinn, you little shit.”

“Did you have a stroke?” Carter asks.

“No,” she says.

“Maybe,” Quinn interrupts. “The tests aren’t back yet.”

“She doesn’t seem to have paralysis, slurred speech, or any of the other warning signs,” Finn says.

“It could have been a mild stroke,” Quinn insists, and then notices me standing here. “Who’s this?”

“I’m London,” I reply. “Sorry, I was with these two when you called.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Maggie says, and smiles at me. “I see one of my boys is doing something right. Quinn, take notes.”

“Oh, for fucksake,” Quinn mutters.

“I said watch your mouth. Hello, London. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, but I wish it wasn’t in a hospital.”

“Quinn’s fault,” she says again. “And not only did he call the ambulance, they came barreling down my street with the lights and sirens going. How am I supposed to explain that to the neighbors? It’s humiliating, that’s what it is.”

“No, it isn’t,” Carter says gently. “We need to make sure that you’re okay. You’re the only one like you that we have.”

“Although, Quinn is a bit paranoid,” Finn concedes.

“Making sure my mother didn’t have a stroke is paranoid?” Quinn demands. “Besides, I need to be on top of it. People in this family have a habit of not telling us all the full story when it comes to medical issues.”

There’s an awkward silence, and I make a mental note to ask Finn what Quinn meant later.

“There’s no need to go over that again,” Maggie says, her voice softer now. “What’s done is done, and we can’t change it. But you can’t coddle me.”

“I’m looking out for you,” Quinn says, clearly frustrated.

“Next you’ll be saying that I shouldn’t live on my own anymore and you’ll all try to put me in a home or something. And let me tell you right now, I’m not going to live in any home.”

“No home,” Finn confirms.

“We can afford a full-time caregiver,” Quinn suggests.

“I’m not going to have a stranger living in my house,” Maggie says.

“Mom,” Finn says with a sigh. “Why don’t we back it up again. Why did you pass out?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug, and examines the handle on her bag.

“What was happening?” Carter asks.

“I just walked into the bathroom, and then I woke up on the floor and called Quinn. Which I now regret.”

Quinn covers his face with his hands and rubs hard.

“You said you had a headache?” I ask, and sit at her hip, take her hand in my own, and watch her carefully.

“Oh no, you’re starting on me too,” she says.

“No, ma’am, I’m just a friend, not your child, so maybe I’m easier to talk to.” I give her a wide smile and she laughs for the first time since we got here.

“You might be onto something there. I do like you, London.” She pats my hand. “I hope my son plans to hang on to you for a while.”

I lean in as if I’m about to tell her a secret. “I plan to hang on to him for a while.”

“Good.” She nods and closes her eyes, as if she’s suddenly very tired. “I did have a headache. I’ve been getting them more often lately.”