Emergency Engagement

“No excuses, no protests. I’m a doctor, and if you want a second opinion regarding your physical condition I’d be happy to take you to the ER. Northwestern is right around the corner and I have some good friends there who would be happy to check you out, maybe even give you an IV.”

Quinton removed his arm and Beth let the soft pillow claim her head. No more ER visits—ever. Besides, she certainly didn’t have the money for another fifty dollars’ co-pay. “That’s okay. I’m not that bad off.”

“See, I knew you were a wise woman,” Quinton said. “Now, you’re going to stay right here and drink the rest of this. You’ve let yourself get run-down. If you were twenty years younger, I’d insist you go to a hospital.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“You have to rehydrate. Let me help you.” He cradled her head and supported it while Beth took another swallow of the milk.

“And then I’m getting off my couch.”

“No, you’re not,” Quinton said easily.

Beth sipped the grape-flavored sports drink until the cup was empty. Then he lowered her back to the pillow.

“That’s better.”

Beth gazed up at him. “I have to finish packing.”

Quinton ignored her. “Now that you’re done this, I’m going to get you some more. We’ll talk about your activities after that.”

Despite herself, Beth cracked a small smile. “Yes, Doctor.”

The smile Quinton gave her in return before he stood could have melted even the hardest of hearts. Beth found her own fluttering.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

I wish! Beth’s hand shook as she adjusted the ratty old blanket he’d covered her with. Had she really just thought that? She stared at the flat brown doors of her apartment. Then she glanced at the clock.

Panic overtook her. She had things to pack! Stuff to move! She couldn’t relax for another moment.

“I told you to remain lying down.” Quinton’s voice cut through the room.

Beth paused, her left foot halfway to the floor. “I have to pack the rest of my things. I have to be out by noon tomorrow and—”

“It’ll all to be taken care of. I’ve hired packers.”

Disbelief filled her as she stared at him. Was he serious? His gray eyes indicated that he was. But how? Quinton set a tray down and ran a finger under the collar of his long-sleeved polo shirt. “As I keep saying, you need to rest.”

She had to concentrate on her priorities, her symptoms and Quinton’s good looks notwithstanding. “My stuff. I have to pack my stuff.”

He shrugged. “No, you don’t. I said I took care of it. I called in a favor.” He saw her expression and smiled. “Yeah, a favor. A friend of mine owns a moving service. Everything for storage goes at first light tomorrow, and he’s got a two-man crew coming to box your personal things at the same time.”

“But I have no place to go!”

“Trust me.” Quinton opened another bottle of the drink that he’d brought up from his car. “Carly deserves a mother who’s well.”

Anger returned, and Beth winced as her head throbbed harder. “I am not one of your patients! You can’t order me about. I’m not drinking anything until you tell me exactly what’s happening. I can’t afford this.”

“Stop stressing yourself out. It’s not good for you. I can afford it.”

“But I can’t. I told you before—I’m not taking your charity or your favors!” Beth sat up completely, the blanket slipping to her waist. She glanced down in a panic.

“Don’t worry,” Quinton said. “You’re decent. Besides, I saw it all the other night.”

Beth shot him a dirty look. “If I drink this stuff, will you tell me what you want and then leave?”

“I want to help you.” He handed her the bottle of sports drink.

“What’s in it for you?”

Quinton frowned. “Am I that transparent?”

“Men always want something,” Beth said.

“That doesn’t say much for my gender. And I guess, in a way, I do want something. But it’s not what you’re expecting. At least, I hope not. What I think is that I have a solution to your problem, and in turn, you can be the solution to mine.”

“Wait. You’re telling me that you have a problem you want me to solve. That’s what you want? A solution to a problem?”

“What, you find it hard to believe that I have a problem? That’s a bit low, don’t you think?”

“I don’t mean for it to be. It just appears that you have everything going for you.” Beth thought for a moment. It was true that everyone had problems. There were health problems, relationship problems and money problems. Then there was… “You’re not on drugs, are you?”

Quinton’s head snapped backward and disbelief caused his eyes to narrow. “No! What gave you that idea?”

Beth waved a hand. “I was trying to figure out what type of problem you have. You’ve obviously got money, you appear to be in great health and with your good looks you can’t be lacking a girlfriend.”

“You find me attractive?” A teasing note entered Quinton’s voice, as he tried to lighten what was fast becoming an awkward moment.

Beth’s heart jumped, but outwardly she remained calm. “No. I said you were good-looking. That doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you. Anyway, if you don’t have those problems, maybe you’re like one of those guys in the soaps who’s the closet drug user.”

“Uh, no,” Quinton said. “Not even close, and I’m a bit offended that you thought that of me. Now, drink.”

“I’m sorry I keep offending you. I’m not trying to.” Beth took a drink. “Okay, so then what is it?”

“My parents want me to return to St. Louis to live.”

The drink almost fell from Beth’s hand, but she caught it before it spilled. “That’s all?”

This time Quinton really appeared offended. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, come on. You’re not dying. You’re not being evicted. You’re not on drugs. Your parents just want you to move to St. Louis, where I assume they live and you grew up. So you say no. No big deal. How hard is it to say no? You’re a big boy.”

“Yes, I am. But unfortunately, simply saying no to what you’ve been groomed to do since birth is a little awkward. It is a big deal. While my problem may not seem big to you, it is to me.”

Beth set down the sports bottle. He was correct and she was being totally insensitive. She normally wasn’t like this. Maybe she was feeling the stress of everything, but that was no excuse for her behavior. She’d simply dismissed his problem. The very least she could do was to hear him out. After all, he had rescued her when she fainted.

“I’m sorry. I usually don’t jump to conclusions. You’ve also been very kind to me. It’s the least I can do. Why don’t you tell me about it?”