And then he heard her sniffle.
He dared a look and saw a tear fall down her cheek. “I’m being such a bitch.”
His arms circled around her and she buried her head into his shoulder and started to cry. “Shhh.” There was a physical ache in Gio’s chest, hearing her cry.
“Why can’t the doctors look at the test results right away? They do in hospitals.”
“I don’t know, cara.”
“Maybe the news is bad and they don’t want to tell me.”
“They wouldn’t do that. They deal with this stuff every day.”
She sucked in a breath. “I’m scared.”
Gio stroked her hair. He was, too. “Shhh.”
“Two weeks ago we were crashing parties in Napa and now I’m waiting to hear from my latest doctor about my latest problem. How did this happen?”
He held her tighter. “I don’t know, amore. It doesn’t feel real most of the time.”
“I just want to wake up from this bad dream.”
Gio pulled away so he could look at her.
He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs and tried to smile. “In five years, we’re going to look back on this time and kick ourselves for all the worry we’re creating.”
“Are you sure?”
No.
“Yes,” he lied.
Emma lifted her chin and squared her shoulders as if his words impacted her in a way to move her forward. “I like your idea about the closet.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Back to the home improvement store?”
Her smile was heaven in his heart. “You don’t mind?”
“Are you kidding? I love that place.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Tuesday morning, Emma’s phone rang while they were having coffee.
Dr. Chow’s, the liver-ologist’s, name popped up on her screen.
She dropped the cup onto the counter, spilling coffee everywhere.
“Is that your doctor?” Gio asked.
“Yes.”
When she didn’t reach to answer it, Gio grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Can I speak to Emma Rutledge?”
The phone was on speaker.
“I’m here,” Emma said.
Gio reached for her hand.
“This is Dr. Chow’s office; can you hold for the doctor?”
“Of course.”
When elevator music came across the line, Gio placed a hand on her cheek and made her look into his eyes. “We got this.”
Did she?
She nodded, even if she didn’t believe her own motions.
They’d spent the weekend doing so much yet absolutely nothing. The closet was half-built while Emma painted one of the guest rooms . . . twice because she hated the color after it had dried.
They ate and tossed and turned at night.
Even though she loved having Giovanni at her side, they hadn’t made love all weekend.
He held her every night, and woke with her every morning.
Emma couldn’t ask for more.
“Miss Rutledge?”
“Yes.”
It was Dr. Chow. “I have the MRI results. As we expected, your liver is where the iron in your bloodstream decided to deposit itself.”
Emma looked at Gio.
“How bad is it?”
“Uhm . . . it’s pretty impressive. I’m surprised, given your ferritin levels and your lack of symptoms.”
That didn’t sound good.
“What does that mean, Doctor?” Gio asked.
“Do I have cirrhosis?” Emma blurted out.
Dr. Chow cleared his throat. “Iron in your liver was expected, or none of your doctors would have added me to your team. The MRI gives us a starting point to work off of while you’re going through treatment to de-iron the excess in your body. Do you have cirrhosis?” He paused. “We won’t know until we do a FibroScan.”
Emma’s shoulders slumped.
That wasn’t a no.
“I thought cirrhosis was diagnosed with a biopsy.” Emma had read that on the internet.
Dr. Chow sighed. “I believe a FibroScan will tell us if we need a biopsy. Biopsies are invasive, painful, and unnecessary at this stage. The FibroScan determines the degree of scarring of your liver and will tell us if we need to dig deeper.”
Another test . . .
Another fucking test . . .
Gio squeezed her hand. “Any advice at this stage, Doctor?” he asked.
“My specialty is the liver. Avoid alcohol until we know exactly where we’re at.”
Emma ran her hands down her face and tried not to cry . . .
Again.
The morning of Emma’s first date with the vampires, Dr. Andrews called with the genetic testing results.
She spat out some crazy series of letters and numbers and confirmed that, yes, this was a genetic marker for hereditary hemochromatosis.
“I’ll write orders for your immediate family members to get tested whenever they’re ready to come in.”
“Thank you,” Emma said.
“I’ll see you in three months. Standing orders are written for your lab work and treatment. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Thank you.”
Emma pulled out the notebook and turned it to her “Then what?” page.
She put a checkbox next to the words Genetic test and then underlined where she’d written Tell family.
That was not going to be fun.
Her father’s secretary had called again.
Her mother . . . three times.
And again, Emma ignored all the messages. Maybe once everyone heard the reason why, they’d understand.
The two of them stepped out of the house and started toward the car.
Raul slowed his truck and rolled down the window. “Good morning,” he said.
Emma waved.
Gio opened her door for her. “Good morning. We’ll be back in a few hours. If you need anything, call.”
“I’m checking water lines today. Unless you think there is a greater need somewhere else,” he said.
“Sounds good to me.” Gio turned to her. “Emma?”
She smiled at the man who was keeping things going with all the appointments she and Gio were juggling. “Thank you for all you’re doing.”
“My pleasure, Miss Emma. You have a nice day.”
Not likely, but she appreciated his words.
En route to the infusion center, Emma told Gio her plans regarding her family. “I’m going to ask that my father and Richard fly down for a family meeting this weekend.”
“Will he do that?” Gio asked. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who takes orders.”
“I’ve never asked. I’ll tell them I’ve been seeing a doctor and it’s important. How do you say no to that?”
“You don’t if you’re talking to someone you love,” Gio told her.
Emma wasn’t sure what to expect when she walked into the infusion center. Thankfully, no one she knew had cancer and she’d never had to congregate with people who did.
Until now.
They walked in holding hands, which, she had to admit, even to herself, was exactly what she needed. All around were patients of all ages, races, and colors. People in wheelchairs and others using walkers. Some with bandanas on their heads to hide their baldness . . . and every one of them wearing a mask. This was not optional in a place where nearly everyone had a compromised immune system.