The Proposal (The Proposition #2)(5)

A whoosh of air deflated her chest. “I guess I could try.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, his face lighting up. “Good. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I could use some dessert. Want something?”

As if on cue, Emma’s stomach rumbled, and she grinned. “Even though I shouldn’t, would you bring me back some more of that homemade pound cake?”

Patrick smiled. “Good choice. I was going after a piece myself.”

She grabbed his sleeve. “Just make sure it isn’t Mrs. Forrester’s. I think she accidentally put salt instead of sugar this time.”

He chuckled. “Oh lord. I do believe she has a screw or two loose.”

“You shouldn’t say that. You know she’s sweet on you,” Emma teased.

“And don’t think I’m not going to keep running away from her. She’d probably kill me with food poisoning or something.”

Emma laughed. “You don’t have to run too fast. She’s just one of your many admirers.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. As he rose out of his chair, Patrick winced and rubbed his chest.

“Are you all right?” Emma asked.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. But when he took another step forward around the table, he gasped and then collapsed onto the ground.

“Patrick!” Emma cried, leaping out of her chair. She raced over to him and knelt down, grabbing his hand in hers.

“My heart,” he moaned.

“Someone call 911!” she screamed, trying to fight the rising panic that drummed in her chest.

“I will!” the bingo announcer replied, bringing his phone to his ear.

“Here give him this,” a lady said, thrusting an aspirin in front of Emma’s face. She took it from the lady and brought it to Patrick’s lips.

“Swallow this.”

He lifted his head and let her put the pill in his mouth.

“You don’t have any other medicine with you to take? Like nitroglycerin?”

Patrick grimaced. “Left it in my other pants,” he wheezed. At what must’ve been her horrified expression, he murmured, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

“Pray, angel.” A shaky hand came up to tenderly touch her cheek.

Tears stung her eyes. “Of course, I will. I am. And you do too! Say a Hail Mary or whatever it is you Catholics do!”

Patrick chuckled and then winced. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand tight and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“If this doesn’t go well—”

Emma’s body tensed. “No! Don’t you dare talk like that!”

He closed his eyes briefly before opening them. “Listen to me. If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll give Aidan another chance.”

“Oh Patrick,” she moaned.

“Promise,” he urged.

The last thing in the world she wanted to do was lie to a potentially dying man. Somehow she found the courage to nod her head. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good girl.”

When firemen came barreling through the door, Emma said a thanks to God that the fire station sat just across the street from the VFW. Since most of them had EMT training, she knew they could help Patrick until the ambulance arrived.

“Excuse us, ma’am,” a young guy said.

Emma reluctantly dropped Patrick’s hand. The two firemen inched past her and squatted beside Patrick. Entwining her fingers, she brought them to her lips that were murmuring prayers. She watched as one man put an oxygen mask over Patrick’s face while the other took his pulse.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t even hear the ambulance siren. The next thing she knew EMT’s had arrived and were putting Patrick on a stretcher. “Em!” came his panicked cry through his mask.

“I’m right here,” she called, pushing one of the firemen out of the way. Groping along the gurney, she snatched up his hand. “I’m here. You’re going to be just fine.”

The stretcher rumbled and shook along the uneven pavement as they wheeled him to the open doors of the ambulance. Emma had to fight to keep up with them, and she found herself winded as they started to load Patrick inside. His face crumpled when she was forced to let his hand go.

“I’m still here!” she cried, fighting the tears that scorched and burned her throat and eyes.

Emma felt a hand on her shoulder. A young fireman with kind eyes smiled at her. “Do you want to ride with him?”

“Please, can I?”

“Sure you can. Just come around to the front with me.”

Emma stepped closer to the doors of the ambulance. “Patrick, I’m going to be right up front. I’m not leaving you. Okay?”

He bobbed his head. “I love you, and I’m right up front,” she cried again, as the fireman pulled her away.

They walked around the side of the ambulance. He opened the passenger side door for her. “Up you go.”

She braced herself on the doorframe and tried hoisting herself up. With her adrenaline depleted, she was too weak. Hands came around her waist and pushed her forward. She gasped as she flopped onto the seat. Once she collected herself, she turned around.