Lovely Pink

waited for him to take it. He hesitated for a moment before accepting my gesture, but he did it in the sweetest way. He lifted my hand to his lips and kept them pressed to the back of my hand. “Gray, it’s a medical fact that an asthma attack is not brought on by stress. Other factors cause the airways to constrict, but stress is not one of those factors.”
“Your fiancée is right. You should listen to her,” said the guy in a white lab coat who strode confidently into my room to stop at my bedside. “Dr. Romero, Chief Consult, Emergency Medicine.” The good doctor extended his hand first to Gray, and then to me. “I heard we have some VIPs visiting us tonight. How can I help?”
“So what I’d like to do is get you in to see a pulmonologist in the next month or so,” Dr. Romero suggested. “How long has it been since you’ve been to one?”
“Not since high school, probably. My regular doctor writes the prescriptions for my rescue inhalers right now.”
“From what you’ve told me, the caffeine has done the job of self-medicating to control your asthma, but since you experienced a concerning episode tonight, I’d prefer to prescribe a daily medication that works pretty much like the caffeine in your coffee, but with regular consistency.”
“I knew that about the caffeine already, and I missed my usual shot this morning, because my corner coffee shop got shut down for a health code violation.”
“Seriously, Reese?” Gray scolded.
“How was I supposed to know? It’s not like Zeke’s is going to share with the public how they regularly violate the health code, Gray,” I mimicked back irritably.
“That’s not what I meant. I was referring to the fact that you knew about the caffeine and then missed taking any. That can’t happen again.”
“So, the new meds should solve that issue for you in the future,” Dr. Romero cut in, “and it’s likely that your rescue inhaler prescription may need an adjustment as well. Your pulmonologist can help you with that.”
“But my episodes have always been pretty intermittent. I wouldn’t classify my asthma at anything beyond mild.” I wanted Gray to hear it, because he seemed overly worried about me when I knew it wasn’t necessary.
“And you will likely continue to present with mild asthma in the same way,” Dr. Romero assured me, “but it’s important to remember as you age, you’ll experience changes in your symptoms that may require a new treatment plan to keep you status quo.”
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll find a pulmonologist then.” Gray squeezed my hand in support—the same hand he’d been holding since before Dr. Romero showed up.
“A pulmonology consult is also a good idea if you plan on starting a family. You’ll want to be seen by a specialist, preferably before you get pregnant, so you know all of the risks—”
“What are the risks?” Gray blurted, interrupting Dr. Romero.
I stared at Gray in surprise, waiting to hear why he was in need of such information.
Dr. Romero hedged the question neatly. “It would be best for the two of you to see the pulmonologist together whenever you decide to start a family. He or she can explain the best treatment options for Reese, to ensure a healthy pregnancy as well as manage her asthma symptoms efficiently.”
“So, it’s possible for Reese to have a safe pregnancy, even with her asthma?”
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Romero assured him with a smile. “I look forward to reading about your healthy babies in the news when they arrive. Those kids will be the closest thing to American royalty as we can get. You know, I hadn’t heard about your engagement, but congratulations to the both of you.” Dr. Romero took out his phone and held it up. “Can I get a picture with you guys for my wife? She won’t believe this. My charge nurse said you came in wearing your wedding dress. Please don’t tell me you’ve just gotten married and you’re spending your wedding night in the ER.”
“Ha-ha—no—um, that was just a Halloween party costume I was wearing.” I gave Dr. Romero my best-actress performance and a smile, while digging my fingernails into the palm of Gray’s hand. Hopefully, hard enough to draw blood.
He quickly extricated his palm away from my abusive fingernails and extended his hand to Dr. Romero. “Thank you, doctor, for all of your help tonight. I very much appreciate you straightening out my beloved, and getting her back to healthy breathing,” Gray said, while curling a possessive arm around me. “I won’t lie. I was terrified earlier, before you came in here to speak with us.”
Another skill Gray had perfected, was how to pile on the Southern charm until the person on the receiving end was practically drowning in it. Not that they minded even a little bit.
“Doctor, if you would give me your card, I would love to pass along an invitation to our wedding, for you and your wife—if your schedule permits, of course—that is, when the date is announced to the press.”
Super. Ultra. Gag. Vomit.
My lying “fiancé” had now dug himself into a trench comparable in size to the Gulf of Mexico. How on earth Gray was going to explain his way out of the mess he’d made tonight was a mystery, but I was sure eager to begin the discussion we were having the moment we had some privacy.
“Thank you very much. My wife and I would love that,” Dr. Romero said enthusiastically while handing over his card to Gray.
“When can I go home?” I asked.
“You can go now, actually. As soon as you’re dressed, we can check you out.”
“Fabulous.” One more time with the damn dress.
Oh…yeah. That dress had a very hot date with the incinerator in my building as soon as it could be arranged.

Chapter Five GRAY
Leaving the hospital was a lot more difficult than it should have been. Thanks to the technological world of cell phones and