Dreams of Her Own (7 page)

No. Ian couldn’t take all the blame for her mishaps. But his shoulders were more than broad enough to carry some of them.

Ian shook his head. Millie was a strange one. But he couldn’t help but notice her body in what were obviously
Darcy’s jeans and sweater. She looked good in something besides brown. The curve of her breasts, a trim waist. And her ass. Well, it was worth seeing, especially in those snug jeans and fitted sweater. Who would’ve thought she hid such treasures?

He also couldn’t help but notice how she took care of Darcy. Granted she got paid for it. Well, most of it anyway. But she clearly went above and beyond, preparing lunch, picking up muffins every morning on her way there, fussing over Darcy’s stair-climbing. He doubted any other author’s assistants, which he’d recently learned from Darcy was her job, took their occupation that seriously.

He’d just picked up the sander when his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He frowned at the number—Maimonides Medical Center—then got a sick feeling.

“This is Ian.”

“Mr. Brand?”

“Yes.”

“This is Dr. Ackerman from Maimonides Medical Center. Mrs. Ruby Sinclair has you listed as her next of kin.”

His knees went weak and he dropped the sander to the worktable with a thud. “Yes?”

“She’s being admitted for acute respiratory distress. We’ll need your permission to put her on a ventilator.”

He thought about a conversation he’d had with Ruby a couple of years ago—no life-prolonging procedures.

“A ventilator?” Ian struggled to get the word out. “Is this permanent?”

“No,” Dr. Ackerman said. “We think she’ll recover some lung function. We just need to get her stabilized.”

“Then, yes. Put her on the ventilator. I’m on my way.”

Chapter 9

Millie carried the cake as she and Darcy made their way back to the brownstone. She’d caught up to Darcy just as she’d entered the bakery and withstood Darcy’s lament about being a grown woman, needing exercise and being perfectly capable of picking up a cake by herself.

When they rounded the corner at Darcy’s street, Millie noticed Ian’s motorcycle was gone and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.

After opening the door, Millie headed for the kitchen with the cake, and spotted Darcy’s phone on the foyer table. “You left your phone.”

“I wondered where that was. I’m getting so forgetful these days. Baby brain, I guess.” She picked up the phone and frowned.

“What is it?”

“A text from Ian. He said something came up and he had to leave. He doesn’t know if he’ll be here tomorrow, but he’ll let me know.” Pocketing her phone, she ambled over to the closet to hang up her coat. “Maybe something with that renovation in the Upper East Side.”

“How do you know what he’s working on?” Millie asked in confusion.

Darcy shrugged. “I talk to him. You should try it sometime.”

Talk
to him? About what? She couldn’t think what she would have in common with someone like Ian. Someone whose idea of reading was probably
Construction Today
. Someone who probably attracted women by the dozens. Beautiful, sexy women. Women who didn’t let soup get the better of them.

“Did you know he renovates historic buildings? I think that’s fascinating.” Darcy paused in the process of hanging up her coat. “Hmm. I wonder how he’d feel about me picking his brain for a character. Anyhoo, what else do we need to do for the lunch tomorrow?”

“If you want to autograph a stack of books, I’ll bring them down.”

“Sounds good.”

Millie climbed the stairs to the third floor, passing the room under renovation, and thought about what Darcy had said. Maybe she’d try striking up a conversation with Ian. Surely she could think of
something
to say.
That is,
if she could keep her brain functioning around him long enough.

Ian approached th
e bed where a frail Ruby lie, a ventilator tube protruding from her mouth, the hissing of the machine breathing for her loud in the room. Other machines beeped and flashed. An IV bag hung by the bed, dripping something into her arm.

The nurse had said she was sedated, but Ian pulled up the visitor’s chair and took her thin hand in his, his thumb stroking its papery surface.

Dammit.
Tears stung his eyes and clogged his throat. This woman, who was more mother to him than his own mother, was all he had left in this world.

Sure, he had Caleb, but Caleb had a wife, and in seven short months, would have a child. Ian and Ruby were more than friends, they were family. He’d been there five years ago when Curtis had died of complications following a stroke. She’d been there when, well, every day since that day Ian had first hid in the public library.

After his mom died of cirrhosis, a by-product of her alcoholism, he had no family left. He certainly didn’t count his stepfather or stepbrother family. The death of his mother gave him the perfect excuse to permanently remove himself from their cruelty.

If she’d been his teacher and his friend, Ruby had also become his surrogate mother after his own mother’s death. What was he supposed to do without her?

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m Dr. Gupta, Mrs. Sinclair’s oncologist.”

Ian stood and turned to see an attractive woman with an East Indian lilt, a stethoscope draped around her neck. “Oncologist?” he asked in confusion.

“Ah.” Dr. Gupta wore a chagrined expression on her face. “She hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Ian rubbed a hand over the brick that had found its way into his stomach.

“I suspected as much.” She took a deep breath. “Mr. Brand, Mrs. Sinclair has stage four lung cancer,” she said, her voice soft and full of compassion.

Ian sank back in the chair. Cancer? Why hadn’t Ruby told him? That would more than explain her frailty and lack of appetite. “How did you know my name?”

“Ruby talks about you all the time.” Dr. Gupta smiled warmly.

He absorbed that a moment. “When did she find out?”

“We diagnosed it about a year ago.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he said, “A year ago. But she, nor her late husband, ever smoked.”

“One in five women diagnosed with lung cancer never smoked.”

“And surgery?”

“The tumors were inoperable, so we began chemotherapy and she responded well, but . . .”

“But?”

“Therapies can lose efficacy after a time.”

“So this is it? This is how it ends?” His stomach ached, and his heart thudded heavily in his chest as he turned to gaze at Ruby.

“Not yet. We haven’t given up. There are other therapies. There’s also a clinical trial she may qualify for. This is a setback to be sure, but antibiotics should get the pneumonia in hand.”

“Pneumonia?”

“It can be a complication of the cancer, but it’s very treatable. The ventilator is just to provide a bridge until the lung function has improved.”

“Can I stay here?” he asked, never taking his eyes off Ruby.

“Not while she’s in ICU. But once she moves to a regular room, you’re welcome to stay with her.”

Ian nodded.

“I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow morning. I’ll call if there is any change.”

“Thank you.”

Ian sat in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the beeps, blips, and hisses of the medical equipment, staring out the window at the snow that had begun to fall.

“You can’t leave me. Not now. Not yet,” he said to Ruby. Laying his head on the bed, he placed her hand beneath his cheek and held on for dear life.

That Friday evening, Millie helped a
s Darcy put the finishing touches on the table setting. Darcy’s best friend Laura and her husband Nathan were coming for dinner.

“You shouldn’t be going to all this trouble,” Millie chided. “You’ll wear yourself out.”

“Come on, Millie. I put a roast in the oven, I’m tossing a salad, and I’ve got a cake from Aunt Butchies. It’s no trouble.”

Millie harrumphed.

“And the invitation still stands if you’d like to join us.”

“And listen to Josh and Laura taunt each other all night? No thanks.”

“Actually, Laura’s mellowed a little since she got married,” Darcy said, her head tilted as if that had just dawned on her.

Millie snorted.

“I think Nathan’s Southern Gentleman demeanor has rubbed off.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Millie folded a napkin, tucked it next to the plate.

“Then stay and see it.” Darcy lifted her brows in challenge. “Don’t you want to hear about their honeymoon?”

Millie heaved the sigh of the put-upon. She’d planned to go home and delve into the chapter ‘Main Courses,’ in
The Joy of Sex
. But, the way Laura liked to brag,
er
, overshare about her sex life, she might learn more if she stayed. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

Josh strode into the dining room, messenger bag draped across his body. Law firm partner and creator and head of the firm’s new mediation division, Josh hadn’t let success go to his head. No briefcase and designer suits for him. “What’s good?” He placed his hands at Darcy’s waist and pressed a kiss to her belly.

“Millie’s staying for dinner.”

“That
is
good.” He glanced at Millie and gave her a welcoming smile.

It warmed Millie’s heart to see Darcy and Josh, together at last. It took Darcy long enough to recognize that her best friend was also her soul mate.

“What time are Laura and Nathan coming over?”

“In about an hour.”

“Good. Gives me time for a shower.” He kissed Darcy again. “Smells delicious! I’ll be back.”

Darcy watched Josh exit the room, a dreamy look on her face, as the oven timer buzzed.

“Darcy?”

“Hmm?”

“The timer’s going off.”

“Right.”

An hour later Darcy and Josh opened the door to Laura and Nathan.

“Morgan le Fay.” Josh greeted Laura with a nod.

“Gargamel,” Laura returned.

“Some things never change,” Millie muttered as she took Laura and Nathan’s coats.

“How are an apple and a lawyer alike?” Laura asked.

“They both look good hanging from a tree,” Millie replied, and received the evil eye from Laura for spoiling the punchline.

“Millie, you look good enough to eat,” Nathan said in his Southern drawl, as he touched his lips to her cheek.

Millie knew he was lying, but she gave him points for trying. She could understand how a man-eater like Laura fell for him. He had more charm than Rhett Butler.

As the men headed into the living room, Laura turned to Darcy, eyeballing her belly. “You’re not going to do the hand-grabbing thing, are you?”

“I might.”

“Can I at least have a drink before we get intimate?”

Darcy snorted and led the way to the kitchen with Laura and Millie in tow.

Pouring a glass of wine for Laura, Darcy said, “God, I miss wine.”

“That alone is enough reason not to get pregnant,” Laura said as she offered a toast to Darcy’s baby bump.

“Don’t you want children?” Darcy asked Laura.

Millie read the look on Laura’s face, and waited for the quip, but then her expression changed. “You know, I never thought I’d want kids, what with the whole pregnancy thing, childbirth—” she shivered “—diapers, and spit up, but I really think Nathan would be a great dad. I wouldn’t want to deprive him of that.” She finished with a rare dreamy look on her face. Then she took a sip of wine, and shook it off. “Wow. What was that? You really need to keep your baby hormones to yourself.”

Darcy snorted. “Come on, admit it, you’d love a little Nathan running around.”

Laura shrugged. “Maybe.” She jabbed a finger at Darcy. “But don’t start planning a shower or picking out baby names. I’ve got a few things to accomplish before I go down the motherhood road.”

If she lived to be a hundred, Millie never thought she’d hear Laura even consider children. Maybe Darcy was right, marriage to Nathan had mellowed her.

“Like becoming the most powerful woman in advertising.”

Or not.

Laura eyed Millie over the rim of her glass. “I see you’re still dressing like
a hobbit
.”

Millie drew herself up. “Better than Vampirella.” Not that she really thought Laura was trashy. In fact, she thought she always looked sexy, in a polished sort of way. But she’d rather admit she was still a virgin than tell Laura that.

“One of these days, Millie.” Laura wagged her finger at her.

Millie rolled her eyes. Laura’s threat of the dreaded makeover had lost most of its bite over the years.

“Shall we eat?” Darcy chimed in.

Halfway into dinner, talk turned to the nursery renovations, and Millie’s ears perked up.

“How’s the nursery coming along?” Laura asked, tucking a strand of her perfectly straight blond hair behind her ear with a perfectly manicured hand.

“It’s been going well, but it’s at a standstill at the moment.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Nathan asked, as he sliced his roast beef.

“Ian, the contractor, has a good friend who’s very ill and in the hospital,” Darcy supplied.

Millie wondered where Ian had been, but had refused to ask and raise eyebrows at her interest in someone she supposedly disliked. She wondered who was ill.

“Which reminds me, Josh, Ian wanted some legal advice on estates. I told him to talk to you,” Darcy added.

“Sure. Just tell him to give me a call.”

Estates? Was Ian’s friend that ill?

“Now, tell us about the rest of your honeymoon,” Darcy prodded. “How was Zermatt?”

“Fabulous!” Nathan said, then took a sip of wine. “We saw Prince Albert and Princess Charlene of Monaco. And then there was the great food, delectable wines, and incredible skiing.”

“And don’t forget the outstanding sex,” Laura added matter-of-factly.

Josh choked on his wine.

Darcy covered a laugh.

And Nathan grinned. “That’s my girl.”

No, marriage to Nathan hadn’t mellowed Laura at all.

“Ian, have a seat,” Josh said after welcoming him into the house.

Ian liked Josh. The
ir interactions had thus far been brief, but he recognized his warmth and sincerity.

“How is your friend?” Josh asked as he took a seat in a wingback chair.

“She’s out of ICU at least.” Ian sat on the sofa, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He was physically and mentally exhausted. Spending nights at the hospital with Ruby, running home, showering, and heading off to the jobs that couldn’t wait. He really appreciated Josh and Darcy’s understanding.