“Thank you.”
“Looks like I’m the last of us to find the one.”
Salena was beautiful, spicy . . . self-assured. “You will.”
Silence followed. “Whatever.”
Salena stood, opened her arms. “I look forward to meeting her.”
Once Salena left, Gio picked up his phone and sent a text to Emma.
Good afternoon, cara.
When she didn’t reply right away, he set his phone down and got back to work.
He smiled into the things Salena had said. “I’m off the market,” he whispered to himself.
Tuesday morning arrived after a night of tossing and turning.
Emma’s father’s secretary called. Emma didn’t pick up the phone.
By nine in the morning Dr. Sandy had confirmed what Emma knew in her heart was true. The lab work wasn’t a fluke. “I’m sending you to the hematologist to manage this. They’re going to want to do some genetic testing to confirm the cause. Which is likely genetic.”
“Likely?”
“I won’t say a hundred percent until they test. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s the cause. The other causes of iron overload, hemochromatosis, don’t apply to you. You’re not being treated for cancer or are on any drugs that would cause this. I’ve already called Dr. Andrews and she will get you in this week.”
“And my liver? According to what I read, the extra iron in my body is absorbed by my liver but doesn’t leave and, if left untreated, could cause cirrhosis.” Emma shivered when she said the word cirrhosis.
“Which is why we want the MRI and the liver doctor to see you.”
“Jesus.”
“I have no doubt we’ll find some iron in your liver. Dr. Chow is excellent. I spoke with him yesterday and he’d like you to come in this week. We’re going to get the ball rolling and start taking care of this.”
Fear crept up Emma’s spine. “And the treatment . . .”
“Phlebotomy. We need to take blood out of your body. Sounds archaic but it’s—”
“Leeches. Didn’t bleeding people to better health end in the Middle Ages?” Emma had been shocked when she’d read that online.
“I thought the same thing until I was in medical school. But no. The treatment is to remove blood from your system, half a liter at a time . . . consistently until your body is no longer overloaded with iron. Diabetics have insulin to control the sugar that their bodies can’t process. You need to remove red blood cells that are saturated with iron so your body is forced to make new cells that have no iron in them. That blood circulates and pulls the iron into those new blood cells—almost like a sponge—and they are discarded again. Over time the excess is depleted from your system.”
“How much time? How many trips to the vampires do I have to have?”
Dr. Sandy chuckled. “I don’t have the answer to that. This is where Dr. Andrews comes in and monitors the progress. Once you’re no longer overloaded the phlebotomies slow down.”
“What are we talking about?” Emma found herself “then what-ing.” A term Gio had coined when it came to everything wine and vineyards.
“Routine trips to the blood bank. I have other patients on maintenance with this, and they donate blood three or four times a year. But when they were first diagnosed, they went in every week, some twice a week or every other week. For months . . . or years, depending upon how it’s spread out.”
Emma’s stomach twisted. “I’ve never donated blood in my life.”
“That’s about to change.”
Emma paused. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Dr. Sandy’s voice softened. “Are you getting any sleep?”
Emma couldn’t help it . . . she laughed. “No.”
“I know this is hard, but try and stay off of Dr. Google, okay? I will be in constant contact with the doctors on your team and touch base with you every week until we have all our answers.”
Tears formed. “I have a team.”
“Yes. A good one. Make your appointments and then take a walk. Have your boyfriend give you a massage and try and get some sleep.”
Her boyfriend . . .
Gio knew nothing about any of this.
“Thank you.”
Emma hung up the phone and stared at it.
“I have a team.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Gio tried calling Emma Monday night. She didn’t pick up.
Her text messages consisted of two or three words, none of which matched the energy she’d had coming out of the weekend.
By Tuesday afternoon, he was channeling every insecurity in his mind. They’d spoken almost every day since coming home from Italy. And their text messages were so often that Gio felt like he was always by her side.
All of that felt like it came to a crashing stop.
Gio sat on the terrace with his phone in hand. Emma hadn’t called him back, and her last text message was the night before.
He’d sent three messages that day and zero replies.
“Screw it.”
He dialed her number.
Every ring that didn’t go answered dropped his heart further in his chest.
Right before the fifth ring, she picked up.
“Hey,” she said.
Gio smiled. “I needed to hear your voice. I haven’t heard from you and was starting to worry.”
“Uhm . . .” Emma cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about that.” Her voice wavered.
Gio lost his smile. “What’s wrong?”
“Uhm . . .”
Was she crying?
“Is it your dad?”
“No. No . . . I haven’t talked to him.”
“That was today, right?”
“I, ah . . . didn’t take the call.” She sniffled.
“You’re crying.” He could hear it in her voice.
“Yeah . . . I’m having a bad day.”
Gio ran a hand through his hair. “Amore, talk to me. What’s going on?”
She hesitated. “Remember how I said I saw my doctor?”
Doctor? “Yeah. Clean bill of health.” Gio stilled. Was that wrong?
“Sexual health . . . and that’s still good. But she did some other bloodwork and that isn’t good.”
Five minutes into Emma’s monologue about the “not good” bloodwork and the need for doctors and tests and MRIs, Gio walked into his room and started shoving clothes into a bag.
He scratched a note on a piece of paper, grabbed his keys, and jogged down the stairs.
“Hey?” Luca caught him.
Gio put a finger to his lips and handed his brother the note.
Emma needs me. I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’ll call later.
Before Luca could ask anything, Gio was out the door and in his car.
“. . . and what does that mean?” Gio asked.
“It means it’s probably genetic . . . ,” Emma continued.
His car picked up the call and put it on speaker as he pulled out of the drive.
As Emma talked, her tears dried up.
As the tears went away her voice grew stronger.
So many new words were thrown in Gio’s direction so quickly he couldn’t process them all. Liver doctors, blood doctors . . . “Emma, why didn’t you tell me this was going on?”