CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Lo
“Baby, don’t lean back on your chair like that,” I tell Axl as I set his plate of food in front of him at the dinner table. A week after Axl’s party, I’d invited Arturo to have dinner with us on one of the rare nights that the restaurant is closed. A chef, I am not. So it’s no surprise he wound up taking over when he saw I was burning the onions.
Axl was excited to have Arturo here, but he’d been acting up ever since Art had commandeered my kitchen. Granted, a hungry, naughty seven-year-old didn’t make for a great dinner date, but it was important to me that any man I dated knew that my son was never an afterthought. If they want me, they have to love Axl too, because we’re a package deal.
Arturo sets our plates at the table while I pour the wine and the thump, thump, thump of Axl’s chair hitting the ground drives me freaking crazy.
“Axl!” I shout, just as his chair topples and he goes down in a heap. A beat passes where I’m trying to catch up with the events that just happened and then my son lets out the most blood-curdling scream and I sprint toward him.
Arturo is already there, telling Axl to lie still, but my brain effectively shuts down as I stare at the way the bone in my son’s little arm is sitting up at an unnatural angle beneath his skin.
“Lo, we need to get him to a hospital,” Arturo says.
Axl’s face is waxy and pale, and his little body tremors in shock. I don’t know if we have time to wait for an ambulance. As if he’s reading my thoughts, Arturo bundles up my screaming son as I grab Art’s keys from the kitchen counter and I follow him outside. I climb into the back seat and Arturo places Axl on my lap. He’s in and out of consciousness as I cradle him in myarms and whisper that he’ll be okay, and that I’m here. Arturo drives like a maniac, swerving in and out of traffic and running several lights.
When we reach the hospital, I throw open the car door and climb out with Axl in my arms. He’s awake again and crying for Gabe and my heart is breaking because I can’t do anything for him.
“I need to get out of this ambulance bay,” Arturo says. “Go. I’ll find you.”
The automatic doors of A&E open and I plead with the nurse that they see my son. Axl’s screams must tug at their heartstrings too, because she leads us past all the people in the waiting room to a bed in their clinic.
I smooth the sweaty hair back from his forehead as he writhes in pain.
Axl pulls away from me. “No. I want Daddy. I don’t want you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest as if he just plunged a knife right through it.
“I know, buddy,” I whisper, holding his good hand tightly in mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
It feels like hours before a doctor takes one look at my son’s arm and orders an x-ray.
Two nurses wheel a mobile x-ray machine up to the bed. Axl is given a mild sedation before they’ll move the arm, and he lies back against the pillows, finally able to relax with his pain gone.
The team is incredible—x-raying and then setting and splinting his arm before they wrap it in a bright blue cast. He’s still out cold, but I wipe my hands over his little cheeks to rid them of his tears and hold on tightly to his uninjured hand the whole time.
He’s disorientated when he wakes and asks for Daddy, but I don’t have my phone with me, so I ask the nurses if they cansearch the waiting room for a handsome Latino man in a blazer and jeans, because I’m sure Arturo is out there wondering what the hell is going on.
A few minutes later, he strides in with the nurse, who gives me a wink, “You’re right, he wasn’t hard to find.”
She saunters away and I climb off the bed and throw my arms around Arturo. I’m one step away from losing my shit completely, but I feel marginally better in his embrace.
“How is he doing?”
“Sore. Tired. He wants his daddy.”
“I tried calling but he did not pick up.”
“You called Gabe? How do you even have his number?”
“He’s your Next of Kin, mi amor. Of course I have his number.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and smiles. “Plus, I did cater your wedding.”
“Right.” I forgot that at one stage Gabe and Arturo could be amicable.
“Do you mind if I try? I left my phone at home.”
“Of course.” Arturo pulls his cell from his pocket and places it in my palm. “I will be a poor substitute, but I’ll wait with Axl until you come back.”