Page 48 of The Wrong Husband

"She has a pulse," I managed to choke out.

"Call 911," Moana cried out, shaking her friend.

If I called 911, the media shitstorm would be unbearable. I called Doc and demanded he get to Emilia's lost asap. He said he'd be there in ten minutes max. While he drove, he asked me several questions.

"Is she breathing?"

I put a hand on her chest. "Yes."

"What's her pulse at?"

I held her wrist and then told him.

"Any blood anywhere?"

Moana, who had already looked shook her head.

"No, no blood."

"Okay. Color."

"Lips are…fuck, Doc, her lips are blue. It's cold here."

"Pick her up, get her into bed. Warm her up."

Moana pulled down the covers and Emilia groaned when I carried her. "Baby, Em."

"Hmm."

Her eyes were still closed, and her head lolled. I put her in bed and started to pack the comforter around her.

"Damian," Moana murmured, "grab another blanket from the closet."

I looked around and found a large cedar closet. There were clothes inside, sheets, towels, and blankets. I pulled out a thick blanket. We layered it over Emilia, tucking it tightly around her to trap in as much heat as possible.

"Doc's on his way." I trembled with worry. "He said to keep her warm and monitor her breathing."

Moana nodded, her face tense with concern. "Emilia, honey, can you hear me?"

Emilia's eyelids fluttered, but she didn't respond. I felt a knot of fear tighten in my chest. What happened to her?

Doc arrived a few minutes later, carrying his medical bag. He quickly assessed Emilia, checking her vitals, and asking us more questions.

"She's done this before," Moana told Doc, tears in her eyes.

"What?"

Moana nodded. "She…paints when she's upset, and she doesn't sleep or eat. She did that once a year ago…."

"Fucking hell." Doc pulled out things from his bag and set up a portable IV stand. "She's severely dehydrated and hypothermic. We need to get fluids into her and warm her up slowly. Damian, keep talking to her, keep her engaged."

"Emilia, baby, you gotta wake up, darlin," my voice didn't sound like mine, it was thick, clogged with emotion and fear.

Moana and I watched anxiously as Doc worked. The IV drip began to restore some color to Emilia's face, and her breathing became steadier.

"Why the fuck is it so cold here?" I demanded.

"The building has shit insulation and her heat is broken."