Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
He dabs the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin before leveling his gaze at me. “You are perceptive. As always.”
My stomach clenches. “What is it?” Is he getting another divorce? No—does he have a third wife? And more siblings I need to meet?
He exhales slowly, his fingertips resting against the edge of the table. “Darcy, I’ve been diagnosed with atrial fibrillation. That’s an irregular heartbeat. And also, something called long QT syndrome.”
I blink. “That sounds… bad.”
“It can be,” he admits. “AFib makes my heart unpredictable, and long QT means I’m at risk for sudden cardiac events.”
A chill runs down my spine. “What is a sudden cardiac event?”
“It means your heart stops,” he says flatly.
My appetite vanishes. I push my plate away. “How long have you known about this?”
“The AFib for a while,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “The long QT diagnosis is newer.”
“Oh.” That’s all I’ve got. It never occurred to me that he could be sick. It doesn’t fit with this more-of-everything-please lifestyle. “I’m so sorry. What does that mean for you?”
“Some new medicines. Frequent testing. Possibly a procedure in the future.”
Yikes. “I’m sorry,” I say again. But I still feel like I’m missing something.
He shrugs. “It’s going to be okay, but they’re making me slow down at work, so that sucks. The thing is, Darcy, I’m not telling you all this for pity. I need to explain one more thing about my condition.”
“Which is…?”
He sets down his cup. “They believe my condition is acquired—triggered by medication or other lifestyle factors.” His voice is steady, but there’s something careful in the way he’s watching me. “But long QT can also be genetic.”
“Genetic,” I repeat, and the word weighs a thousand pounds. And then I catch myself lifting my hand to cover my own heart, as if I could learn anything just by feeling it beat against my palm.
My dad reaches over and catches my hand instead. “Hey, I doubt you have anything to worry about. I already had a genetic test, and I’m not a carrier for the gene that causes most of the cases. But I’d still like you to have a workup by a cardiologist. Just to be sure.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Okay? So you don’t have to feel guilty if I drop dead at thirty?”
“Darcy,” he says, his voice low and sad. “Do this one thing for me. If your EKG is normal, then you probably have nothing to worry about.”
I look away, staring at the overpriced flower arrangement in the center of the table. I can feel the weight of his request settling over me, pressing down on my chest.
His voice is quieter now. “Please?”
I let out a slow breath. The pianist in the corner shifts to something lighter, something airy. Outside, the sun glints off the pristine golf course. Everything is perfect, controlled, orderly.
Except for his heart.
And maybe mine.
I swallow, nodding once. “And you’re doing everything the doctor asks of you? Every single thing?”
He gives me a sad smile. He lets go of my hand and holds his up, as if taking an oath. “I am. I promise.”
“Fine. I’ll get tested.”
“Awesome.” His smile grows. “It’s not urgent, okay? Just get it done this summer, and let me know how it turns out. Try not to worry, Darcy. Really. I just want to be sure.”
I grab my water glass. “Okay.”
“And one more thing? Don’t mention this to Tessa.”
My glass freezes on its way to my mouth. “What? Why?”
He winces. “Because I haven’t told her yet. She’s so busy planning the wedding.”
“But…” I do the math. “Theo is the one getting married. And you told him?”
He nods. “I did. And I’ll tell Tessa right after the wedding, when she’s calmer. You know how she gets.”
I do. We all do.
“Now finish your lunch, kiddo. It’s a long drive back to New York. Oh, look! There’s your ride.”
I turn my head like a dog looking for its owner. And sure enough, here comes Eric, striding across the dining room with a smile on his handsome face. He stops beside my chair and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Afternoon! Is it okay if I join you?”
My father grins as if nothing is wrong and indicates the empty third chair. “Would you like something to eat?”
Eric is already shaking his head. “My mother filled me up with scrambled eggs and pancakes. I’ve had all the food I can handle. But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.”
My father signals for the waiter, and coffee is fetched and poured for Eric. He and my father exchange a few pleasantries. But at some point, I realize that Eric is shooting worried looks at me.
I pull myself together a little and try to contribute to the rest of the conversation. But I can’t say I’m sorry when the bill is signed, and I’ve accepted a hug from my father, who tells me to “take care of myself” in a more meaningful way than usual. And then Eric is finally wheeling my suitcase toward the Porsche and accepting his key fob from the valet.