What Matters Most: The Billionaire Bargains, Book 2 (29 page)

Will opened his organizer with one hand and dragged his thumb over the screen. After a moment, he held the device out so Tony could read the number. Tony crossed to him and punched in the digits.

“Who is John Davis?” Sylvia asked.

“The best neurologist in the country,” Tony said. Reese was watching him with wide eyes and he felt the strongest yearning of his life—the yearning to be her hero. To have her look at him with admiration and pride and gratitude.

The phone continued to ring.

Will explained further. “John is the head of neuroscience at Harvard Medical School. He and Tony have…friends in common.”

Tony shot Will a sharp glance. He did not need Will telling everyone—including Tony’s new wife who was less than thrilled with him anyway—that he’d first met John when the older man had been invited to a special high-stakes poker game. Tony had won most of John’s money and two valuable pieces of art that night. But the men had hit it off and had become friends.

If anyone could consult on Maggie’s condition and treatment, it would be John.

But the other man wasn’t answering.

Tony looked at Will. “Keep trying to reach him.”

Will nodded.

“Thanks for trying, Tony,” Reese said. “But Maggie’s in good hands here. There’s nothing they can do right now.”

Tony felt the pressure building again. He cared about these people. Reese—God, definitely Reese—and he wanted to be the man she wanted him to be. More, he wanted to be the man she
needed
him to be. But hell if he knew how to do that.

What could he say to make this better? Nothing.

What could he do for her? Nothing. He couldn’t magically make Maggie be okay. He couldn’t even get a hold of the doctor who, incidentally, owed him for the fantastic seats at the Kansas City Chiefs’ game when they’d played John’s beloved Patriots. The least the guy could do was look at a little girl’s medical file for Tony.

Tony glanced around the room. “You’re all staying here?”

They all exchanged glances.

“You girls go home,” Reese said to Sylvia and Connie. “I’ll stay with Holly. The little ones need to be in bed.”

“No, we’ll stay,” Sylvia said. “We’ll ask to borrow some pillows and blankets from the nurses or something. These two can sleep anywhere.”

That might be true. Max was out cold against Will. Molly lay with her head in Sylvia’s lap, her thumb in her mouth. But the women looked just as tired. Sylvia was propped up in the corner of the couch that was covered in plastic fake leather and had almost no give. Connie had pulled a hard plastic chair over in front of the fake-leather chair she occupied so she could prop her feet up. Neither of them looked comfortable at all. Vincent looked like he was about to fall over. And Reese—she looked gorgeous, tough and wiped out.

Fuck that.

Tony turned on his heel and stomped out to the nurse’s station.

A tall brunette in purple scrubs was typing something into the computer.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I need you to move the people in this waiting area to a hospital room on this floor. We need a double room, one with one of the pull out couches and we’ll need three extra cots brought in.”

Tony knew all about spending the night in the hospital after Emily’s stay and he figured the little kids would be okay on the cot and he knew Reese would choose that and let Syl and Connie take the beds and Vincent the couch. They could all be here, together, but at least a little more comfortable.

The woman looked up at him, her eyebrows high. “Excuse me?”

“I understand that it’s not your job,” he told her. “I’m sure you’re very busy. Just tell me who to talk to.”

“Are you or anyone in your party bleeding from the head?” she asked.

“No.”

“Having chest pains?”

Tony sighed. “No.”

“Puking your guts out all over the floor?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

“I’m Tony
Steele
.” Maybe if his name specifically didn’t ring any bells with the woman, the emphasis on his last name would. Between him and Adam and Jaden, the hospital got a lot of money each year from the Steeles.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you puking your guts out all over the floor, having chest pain or bleeding from the head,
Mr. Steele
?”

He sighed. “Would the story be different if I did start puking all over your floor?” he asked.

“I’ll show you where we keep the mop and bucket,” she said.

Great. “How about if I give you a million dollars. Think you could find me a room in that case?” he asked.

She chuckled but didn’t sound particularly amused. She waved to a huge white board to her right. It had a list of first initials, last names, and room numbers.

“You just tell me which patient you’d like me to kick out so you can have their room.”

The board did, indeed, list every room number in the ER department and each had a name behind it.

“Besides, the rooms you’re describing are only in OB and oncology. Why don’t you go bother them?” she asked, grabbing a clipboard. “I need to go. You putting a million dollars in my hand right now won’t set the broken bones, perform the MRI or take out the nasty appendix I need to deal with, you know?”

Yep, he knew. That was the problem. His million couldn’t do nearly as much as he’d like it to do.

Fuck.

Okay, oncology. He knew that floor well and knew most of that department. He’d dated two of the nurses up there. If Laura was working, they’d get a room no problem. If Renee was working…they might be in trouble.

Ten minutes later, he was beyond frustrated. Neither of them had been working, but it hadn’t mattered one damned bit. There were no rooms. And his money couldn’t fix that. At least, not at the moment. He supposed he could donate money to add onto the hospital and add rooms that way, but that sure as hell wasn’t going to help tonight. And even Tony, with his sliding moral scale, wouldn’t ask a family dealing with cancer or a woman in labor to vacate their hospital room.

He got off the elevator in the ER and started to turn toward the waiting area again. But not before glancing longingly toward the exit.

The pressure was building, and he had nothing. In high-pressure situations where he held a losing hand, he usually folded and walked out.

Finally, he made himself walk to the waiting room.

His heart lodged in his throat at the sight that met him.

Vincent and Reese had pulled hard plastic chairs closer to where Will, Connie and Syl and the kids sat. Vincent had an arm around Reese and her head rested on his shoulder. Sylvia was stroking Molly’s hair and singing softly. It was an old hymn he only vaguely recognized.

Tony’s heart ached.

There was nothing he could do here.

Will was the first to notice him. “Dr. Davis is out of the country.” Will was whispering so he wouldn’t wake Max, who was sleeping peacefully against Will’s side. Even Will had been able to help in here. “He’ll return your call tomorrow as soon as he can.”

Tony nodded and swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Reese had gotten up as soon as she’d realized he was there and came to him.

Tony focused on Will. It was easier than looking into the eyes of the woman who expected so much from everyone, who he was going to have to disappoint majorly.

Because this was as good as he got.

“I want to see about getting some beds in here.”

“In
here
?” Will’s whisper volume went up slightly.

“There are no rooms available that can comfortably get everyone here a place to sleep, but there must be beds. If there aren’t, we’ll have some delivered from…somewhere.”

“Tony,” said Will softly, “there’s nowhere to call for beds at this hour.”

“Bullshit. Call Ray over at the furniture place. We have his cell, don’t we?”

“The furniture place where you bought your six-thousand-dollar couch?” Will asked.

“That huge ugly couch cost you six
thousand
dollars?” Connie demanded.

“It’s…very well made,” said Tony.

“You so got ripped off,” Connie told him.

“Anyway,” said Will, “I’m not sure Ray has what we’re looking for.”

“You’re telling me that we
cannot
make this room into a sleeping room for a tired, worried family who wants to wait here overnight?” Tony asked.

Will sighed. “I’m sure there’s a way to make it happen.”

There was
always
a way to make things like that happen. You just needed to know the right people to call and have a big enough wallet.

“I’ll call Ken Michaels back,” Tony said. “Then we can—”

Reese grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the hallway before he could finish that thought. She faced him and crossed her arms.

He hated when she crossed her arms.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to help everyone be comfortable,” he said with a frown.

“That’s very sweet. But ordering
beds
might be a little over the top.”

“That room can easily be converted and they can continue to use it—”

“Stop.”

“I can make this happen, Reese,” he said firmly. “I’ll call Ken—”

“Yes, I’m sure you can,” she interrupted. “I know you have all kinds of people to call, but this is too much.”

“Look, I know you would rather I somehow build beds with my bare hands and maybe hand stitch the quilts too, but…I don’t know how to quilt.” He felt ridiculous. That was a ridiculous thing to say. But the frustration was taking over. He couldn’t be responsible for making sense at the moment. “All I can do is make phone calls and write checks, Reese. That’s
it
.” As if she didn’t know that.

Reese’s expression was a combination of confusion and concern. “Are you all right?”

“No. Not even a little.”

“What’s going on?”

“You want me to
do
things. Be directly involved. Get my hands dirty. Not rely on my money for everything, but guess what? I suck at that. I can’t do a damned thing but spend money—and make more money. I can’t pound a nail. I can’t change a tire. I can’t comfort little kids. I don’t know the right thing to say…”

“Tony, you’ve been amazing with all of the stuff you’ve been trying to do. They told me about how you ordered dinner and how you keep checking on them and wanting to do more. I know you’re responsible for Dr. Foster being here tonight for Maggie.”

Trying to do
. Exactly. He had yet to actually
do
a damned thing. “I called in a favor and ordered pizza. Not exactly big stuff.”

“Sometimes the little stuff matters just as much,” she said gently.

“None of it has helped,” he said. “I asked Foster to come in, but that didn’t do any good. Maggie is still unconscious, she’s still in trouble.”

Reese squeezed his arm as tears filled her eyes. “No one can do anything about that. Everything that can be done has been.”

“And what about when I need something from you that you can’t buy? Or something that isn’t cured by a quick trip to Vegas?”

Her words came back to him again. He couldn’t cure this, couldn’t fix it.

He looked down into Reese’s eyes.

She’d been trying to convince him that they didn’t belong together. She’d said that the money would always be an issue.

But it wasn’t the money. It was him. He couldn’t give the money up, not because he was shallow or materialistic or selfish, but because it was all he could offer.

“Do you know why I was never able to skydive?” he asked.

She looked puzzled for a moment, but shook her head slowly. “Why?”

“With skydiving, once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no changing your mind partway through or walking out because it’s gotten tough. Once you jump, you’re going down. You
have
to deal with whatever comes.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

Tony took a deep breath and went on. “I don’t do things that don’t have a second option. I don’t do things that I can’t walk away from. I like being able to decide when I’m in and when I’m out of the game.”

He saw the tears well up again. She said nothing.

“You refer to it, I believe, as the easy way out,” he said.

Reese swallowed hard. “But marriage isn’t like skydiving, is it?

He shook his head. “Nope. There’s a way out.”

She pulled in a breath, almost as if she was surprised he’d agreed with her. “Yeah, there is,” she said.

“I’m sure my lawyer can get it all figured out quickly.”