He felt like a total slob in sweatpants, a ratty black hoodie and cross-trainers, but had to chide himself for giving a shit about his appearance when his father was about to go in for triple bypass surgery.
When the elevator dinged open, he hurried down the fluorescent-lit corridor toward yet another nurses’ station, where he had to show his ID in order to be taken to his father’s room. He hadn’t thought the intensive-care unit enforced its “family only” policy so strictly, but apparently it did, and as he and the nurse passed by the waiting area, Aidan was startled to see a familiar face.
“Wait,” he said abruptly. “That’s my father’s wife waiting in there. You have to let her in to see him.”
The nurse frowned. “She said she was his girlfriend.”
“Yeah, well, she’s his wife,” Aidan lied. He signaled to Veronica Hanson, who jumped up when she spotted him.
Veronica was a pretty woman in her fifties, with blonde hair streaked with gray and kind blue eyes that were brimming with tears. “Aidan!” she burst out.
The next thing he knew, he was enveloped in a breath-stealing embrace by a woman he’d only met once. Bringing his lips close to her ear, he murmured, “Play along”, then pulled back and glanced at the nurse. “Veronica and my dad got married a few months ago. She just hasn’t had the chance to go through the whole name-change process yet.”
“So much paperwork,” Veronica murmured.
The nurse eyed them suspiciously before shrugging in resignation. “Follow me.”
She led them through a pair of restricted doors, then down another long hallway until finally coming to a stop in front of his father’s room.
“He can only have one visitor at a time,” she said briskly. “His cardiologist should be here shortly to discuss the surgery.”
After the nurse left, Aidan turned to Veronica and said, “How is he? Did the doctors at least tell you anything?”
She nodded miserably. “They said he went into cardiac arrest twice in the last four hours. They’re worried he might not be stable enough to undergo the surgery.”
“What happens if he doesn’t have the surgery?” Aidan asked grimly.
Her anguished expression said it all.
Choking on the lump in his throat, he turned to the window of his dad’s room, but the blinds were drawn so he couldn’t see inside.
“Go,” Veronica urged. “You’re his son. You should see him first.”
He hesitated. Christ, he didn’t want to walk into that room. Didn’t want to see his father lying there, hooked up to machines. Their encounters were sad enough as it was.
But he had no choice. This was his father, for chrissake.
Taking a breath, Aidan opened the door and walked inside.
Tim Rhodes was lying on a hospital bed in the middle of the private room. His dark hair, still full and free of gray, looked greasy and unkempt. His dark eyes were closed but snapped open at Aidan’s entrance.
“Aidan,” his dad said gruffly.
As he approached the bed, he grabbed the nearby metal chair and dragged it closer to his dad. Sitting was a damn good idea—his legs were close to buckling from seeing his father so pale and beaten.
“Hey, Dad.” He swallowed. “How’re you doing?”
“Still alive, so that’s something.” The attempt at humor fell flat, and neither man smiled at the joke.
“They said you need surgery.”
“If my heart is strong enough to allow it.”
Aidan’s throat was so tight he could barely force out any words, but he managed one wobbly question. “Were you having heart problems again?”
“None that I knew of. I’ve been taking care of myself ever since the last one five years ago. Eating right, exercising, I even quit smoking last year.”
It spoke volumes that Aidan hadn’t known that. Conversations in which they shared any part of their lives were few and far between, and his heart constricted painfully as he realized he hardly knew the man lying on the bed. This was his father, damn it, and he knew nothing about him.
“I’m glad you came.”
The emotion lining Tim’s voice came out of left field, startling Aidan into saying, “You are?”
“Of course I am. You’re my son. Is it so shocking that I’d want to see my son before I died?”
Panic erupted in his chest. “Don’t fucking say that. You’re not going to die, Dad.”
“There’s a chance my heart will stop on the table. Doctors said so.”
“There’s also a chance it won’t.” Aidan battled a spark of resentment. “For once in your life, can’t you be positive about something? You’re always so damn pessimistic, so wrapped up in the bad things instead of focusing on the good ones.”
Rather than look upset by the accusation, Tim’s eyes took on a somber light. “You’re right. And that’s why I’m glad you came, Aidan.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Ever since you were born, I tried so hard to shield you from those bad things you just mentioned. I carried the burden alone, and I know sometimes the frustration and heartache and sadness bled through that strong front I was putting up.”