“I know. My mom had MS really bad, and in her last months it was a struggle for her to just get out of bed and make herself a cup of coffee. She hated relying on me and my ex-wife.”
“You were married?” Paget jerked her head back, sucking in a deep breath. It dawned on her how little she really knew about Boone. His revelation shouldn’t matter. Other than his friendship, he meant nothing to her, and he certainly didn’t owe her anything, much less an explanation of his past love life, but it still came as a shock.
“Long story. Short marriage. But the point is, the worse my mother got, the less she liked having to be dependent on anyone. So, I understand why you would push me away because I can see the more your father has to rely on you, the more ornery he gets. But I get that and I can be sensitive to it, and since I lived something similar with my mother, I can do it in such a way that your dad might feel like he’s really in charge of his own destiny.” He laced his fingers through hers and rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand. “Henry likes me. We have a great rapport. I can help with whoever comes to do his physical and occupational therapy while you’re at work. I won’t take no for an answer.”
She took in a slow, deep breath, filling her lungs, holding it for a good five seconds before letting it out with a big swish. “I can’t afford to pay you or anything.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I wasn’t trying to. But you’re offering up a lot of your free time, and I want you to know that if you need to do something else, or just can’t, I will understand.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Also, my father has to think you’re just hanging around because you want to talk to him; otherwise, it won’t work.”
“I’m always asking him history questions, and he’s always yelling at me to get a haircut. We’ll be fine.”
She laughed, reaching out and fingering his long, soft locks. He had movie-star hair. It reminded her of classic gangster-style cinema, but he would be the good guy pretending to be bad. “Whatever you do, don’t listen to him about the haircut. I like your hippie—no, it’s more like a dark, mysterious, brooding look. It works for you.”
“I’m glad you like.” He leaned in, licking his plump lips. He pressed them over her mouth. It wasn’t an overtly romantic kiss, but it ignited a fire in her belly. Sparks flew across her skin, prickling her body from her head to her toes.
Boone threw her off-kilter, and at the same time, he grounded her in ways that made her believe she’d get through this with her father.
“Excuse me,” a female voice cut through the thick, cold hospital air. “Paget Sour. I’m the insurance specialist, and I need to have a word with you.”
Paget jumped, smacking her forehead into Boone’s nose.
He groaned, taking a step back, cupping his face. “That hurt.”
“Sorry,” the woman said. “I hated to interrupt, but I really need to speak with Paget.”
“No worries,” Boone said. “I’ll head in to see your dad.” He squeezed her shoulder. “See you shortly.”
Paget nodded as she lifted her fingers to her lips, still feeling the heat from his hot mouth and scorching tongue.
Damn, that man could kiss.
She sipped her nasty coffee that tasted more like tar as she watched him disappear into the hallway.
“Your boyfriend is quite handsome,” Leslie, the insurance lady, said as she fanned herself.
Paget opened her mouth to correct the woman, but she decided it was better to let her believe that lie than try to explain something Paget didn’t even understand. At some point in the very near future, she was going to have to get some answers from Boone about what the hell was going on, but for now, she’d just have to go with it.
“Yeah. He’s pretty spectacular to look at,” Paget admitted.
Leslie held up a folder. “Can we sit for moment?”
“Of course.” Paget pulled out a chair at the table in the center of the room. “I take it you have all the answers I don’t really want to know.”
“And then some,” Leslie said. “In a nutshell, your father’s insurance will cover much of his hospital visit.” She opened the folder and tapped a number on the bottom of one of the pages. “This is an estimate, but based on daily charges of medications, room rate, and what the insurance allowance is, this is what your out-of-pocket fee will be.”
Fifty-four hundred. Wasn’t the worst bill she’d ever seen. “What about the doctors’ bills? All the tests they ran?”
“I don’t have all the numbers on that yet, but my best guess would be this number.” She flipped the page. “Remember, this is both Medicare and your father’s Plan B. It’s a decent plan, but there are always out-of-pocket expenses.”
“Of course there are.” The new calculations brought it up to close to seven grand.
“Now. I’ve found out through the supplemental insurance agent that they believe this can be cut in half, so you need to resubmit all this to them.”
“That’s helpful. However, why do I feel like there is a but coming?”
Leslie nodded. “The problem isn’t going to be the hospital bill; that’s going to be peanuts compared to what you’re going to need once you leave here, and you really only have two choices, and neither one is inexpensive.”
“Lay them out for me,” Paget said, letting out a long breath.
“You could put him in a short-term care facility. Insurance would pay one thousand a month. Most are going to cost three thousand. That’s just the cost for him to be there. That doesn’t include physical and occupational therapy. There will be a co-pay for that. And, we’re looking at least a three-month regimen, if not longer.”
Paget did the math quickly and quietly in her head. “Okay. And what’s plan number two?”
“You do everything at home. His plan will allow for up to fifteen hundred in home healthcare. But that will only cover you for about twenty-five hours a week, and he can’t be alone, so you’re going to need more like twice that, which brings you to about the same cost. The therapy would stay at the same rate, so that won’t change.”
“So, what it really comes down to is if I want to put him in a home where he’ll be pissed off at me and the staff, or hire people to come to the house where I know he’ll be more apt to do what he’s told.”
“Knowing your dad, I think you should do a combination of the two options,” Leslie said. “The hospital is going to release him in a few days, but you won’t be ready to bring him home. I’d take a couple of weeks, maybe a month, and put him in short-term care while you set things up at home. That way, they can get him walking and talking, and it will make things easier on you.”
“That makes sense. But where do you recommend? I don’t want to send him to some shithole that’s going to leave him drooling in the corner.”
“I’ve jotted down three places that I think would be a good fit, but the best one is Morning Side right in town. It’s the most expensive, but worth it, and I called and checked. They have a bed, and I went ahead and put Henry’s name on it.”