her attending physician?” I ask.
He nods. “I make rounds in the morning and evening, so if you have questions you’ll need to be here then. You can always leave a message through a nurse or email me, and I’ll get back to you.”
I nod firmly, my head feeling too light, the outer world reeling.
This is fucked.
How did we go from the high of winning over Winthrope earlier today to wondering if Grandma will even pull through to hear the news?
Dr. Than’s eyes trace from my tense face to Nick’s. “You two can relax. She’s in great shape for a seventy-two-year-old woman. I wish my overall health was as good.”
“She walks two miles a day,” Nick says proudly, puffing up his chest.
“Well, she’ll need to slow down she’s home,” Dr. Than says.
I hesitate, clearing my throat.
“How long do you think she’ll be in here?” I ask.
Than shakes his head. “I can’t say before we’ve assessed her. However, I can tell you that even once she gets home, she’s going to need plenty of relaxation with no stress. Some activities will be okay and could even boost her cardiovascular system, but nothing strenuous like running.”
“She’s going to be off work for a while,” Nick says slowly, the realization dawning on him.
“Indeed, she will,” the doctor says. “A substantial leave of absence would do her well. She’s still in recovery, but they should be bringing her in soon. It’s a pleasure meeting you both.”
He walks away, and I shut the door again.
“Fuck,” Nick says, doubling over and grabbing his head. “This is the worst time for this.”
“You mean there would be a good time for Grandma to have ‘minor’”—I put finger quotes around the word minor, because the heart seems fairly fucking vital—“heart problems?” I finish.
A slow, sad smile crawls across Nick’s face. “Ah, Wardhole, it hasn’t hit you yet, huh?”
“What?”
“What’s the big news today?” he asks, his face looking pale.
“Grandma had a heart attack,” I say. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “See? It’s worse when you actually say it. I mean, the doctor didn’t say heart attack, but—”
“No, dumbass, people always have heart surgery for fun, right?” I snap.
He glares at me.
“I know you don’t want it to be true, but it is what it is,” I say with a sigh.
“Whatever. It still hasn’t hit you.”
What’s he on about?
“Can we stop being vague? What hasn’t hit me?”
“What happened right before Grandma had her minor heart surgery?” He air quotes the last few words.
“The tentative acceptance of the—” I stop as it hits me between the eyes. “The Winthrope deal.”
“Bingo.” Nick snaps his fingers like a gunshot going off. “And the doctor just said Grandma can’t be stressed.”
Shit, he’s right.
“It’s not the end of the world,” I say glumly, shaking my head. “We’re just going to have to figure it out. We’re grown men, brother. We can handle filling Grandma’s slippers for a few weeks, months, whatever it takes.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? How? Ross Winthrope made it crystal clear he trusts Grandma. Us, not so much.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll keep doing what you do best—ensure the design process is flawless, and make sure it fits Grandma’s vision. That’s more critical than ever now. Vision won us the job.”
Nick nods like a bobblehead. “What about the mile-wide rod up that guy’s ass?”
“I’ll handle client relations. If you ever have to talk to him, I’ll be there.”
“Do you really think we can do this?”
Good question.
Our last few projects were rave successes worth hundreds of millions. But carving a hotel from the sky for one of the world’s richest men is next level.
“We’ve been doing it our whole lives,” I say, steeling my voice.
“We’ve been helping Grandma do it forever, you mean. Without her...”
“No.” I shake my head. “We’ve always been a team, Nick. She’s one of the best designers on earth. You implement those designs, and I deal with the clients, contracts, and money. The Winthrope concepts are all but done. And we’ve got Paige, the first competent assistant ever. We’ll pull her in if we need to. We’ve got this.”
“I hope you’re right, Ward. Because if something goes funky with the Winthrope property, Grandma could have her heart wrecked a second time,” he says darkly.
“Nothing’s going wrong. I promise.”
The doorknob clicks as it turns, and I sweep out of the way.
Four people push Grandma in on a rolling bed, moving her into the room. Nick and I get out of