Page 91 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

I was barely breathing.

Devin ran his hand down his face. He looked as if he was trying to hold back his tears, so I reached for his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “It’s okay.”

He cleared his throat and nodded but he was visibly shaken by the ordeal. “Luckily, Eddie knew what to do to keep Gabriel from hurting himself. But all these people were crowding around, just gawking.”

“What a bunch of assholes,” I said.

“Yeah. We know how much Gabriel guards his privacy so before they wheeled him into the ambulance, we asked the paramedics to cover his face with a sheet while all these assholes were taking photos. They already knew who it was.”

The fucking paparazzi. Someone must have tipped them off.

But this was no time to worry about any of that. “How long ago did this happen?”

Devin shook his head. “I don’t remember what time it was. Hours ago. We didn’t know what was going on or how bad it was, and we knew you had your show today, so we waited until we got some word. After they ran tests, the doctor, or maybe it was a nurse, I don’t know, came out to the waiting room and said that Gabriel asked to see you right away. We knew he wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t serious, so I came and got you.”

If Gabriel asked for me, he had to have been conscious, so I blocked out the words “seizure” and “bad” and “serious” and shoved my worries aside for now.

“Are you okay?” I asked Devin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry about your fashion show.”

Devin didn’t look fine, but I couldn’t blame him. It would have been traumatic to witness something like that.

“Gabriel is more important than a stupid fashion show. Everything is going to be okay. Gabriel will be fine.”

I don’t know if I was reassuring him or myself, but I had to believe it was true. Nothing bad could happen to Gabriel.

He was going to live to be one hundred and one.At least.

I suspected that the seizure was somehow linked to his headaches and now I was kicking myself for not insisting that he see a specialist.

My gaze drifted to the window. Rain lashed against the glass and the city had never looked so gray and gloomy as it did today.

It was Fashion Week and we were gridlocked in Midtown traffic. This taxi was barely moving.

I vented my frustration on the driver and smacked my hand against the partition. “Can’t you go any faster?” I yelled. My voice sounded so shrill I barely recognized it. “This is an emergency?—”

“Do you see a siren on my roof?” the taxi driver yelled back. “You don’t like sitting in traffic, lady, get out and walk.”

I debated for all of two seconds before making my decision. It didn’t look as if this traffic was going anywhere. I could walk faster.

“What floor is he on?” I asked Devin.

“Ninth.”

“I’ll see you at the hospital.” I shoved the door open, darted through the traffic and ran ten blocks in my five-inch-heeled ankle boots.

By the time I stepped off the elevator onto the ninth floor, I was dripping wet and panting like a dog. I hurried down the hall to the nurses’ station and leaned my forearms on the counter, trying to catch my breath.

“Excuse me,” I said, snagging a nurse’s attention. “I’m looking for?—”

“Cleo.” I turned and Eddie pulled me into a hug. “Thank fuck you’re here. He’s been waiting for you.”

“Is he…” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to know.

“He’s being his usual pain in the ass,” Eddie grumbled, but I could tell he didn’t mean it. He loved Gabriel. We all did. “He’s writing like a maniac and gave me a list of chores.” He escorted me to Gabriel’s room then turned on his heel. “I’ll see you later. I have to make some calls.”

I had no idea what to expect so I took a deep breath and let it out then turned the handle and stepped inside Gabriel’s room. He was scribbling on a notepad while a team of doctors studied a chart at the foot of his bed.