“Is he out?” I ask as Freida comes into the exam room. She nods, and drops the syringe into the wastebasket.

“I already told Gordon. He’s pissed, but I don’t think he’s going to call the cops.”

When Rick passed out on the Panther again on the way back from New York, I didn’t need Gordon’s evaluation to tell me that Rick’s idea had worked, but at a tremendous cost. If it wasn’t for the speed of the plane and having a medical helicopter waiting for us at the airfield, Rick might not have made it.

Freida knew as well, and went to work. When she approached me while Rick was unconscious with her plan, I realized again not only how smart this woman is, but how devoted and devious she can be as well. Thankfully she’s on our side.

“You know he still might,” I tell her, pulling my shirt on and giving her a hug. “I still don’t like that part.”

“He had to go into a coma for you to get the power of attorney,” Freida explains again. “Now you have the power not only over his company, but his medical care as well. Gordon knows it, he’s not an idiot.”

“Will Rick hate us if he wakes up?” I ask as we leave the exam room heading for Rick’s room.

“If it works, then who cares? I’m willing to risk jail for attempted murder, if a prosecutor wants to go that route. I don’t think losing my job is that much more,” Freida says. “And you love him. That’s worth the risk, don’t you agree?”

I smile, nodding. “You’re a romantic.”

“Perhaps,” Freida acknowledges. We get to Rick’s room, where Dr. Gordon and a nurse are checking the monitors that are attached all over Rick’s chest, his mouth and nose covered in a mask. “So Doc?”

“So… I really wish you’d told me about this cockamamie idea of yours,” Gordon growls after dismissing the nurse with a jerk of his head. “Jesus, after all that he’s pumped himself with, and you go and give him more… you’re both lucky that our code blue team is fast or else you’d be looking at a dead billionaire.”

“Mayo’s the best,” Freida explains simply. “Now, what’s his condition?”

Gordon rolls his eyes at Freida’s supposed nonchalance and turns to me. “Mrs. Kelley, I’ve got your husband stabilized in a medically induced coma. He’s on a ventilator, but I don’t want to insert a breathing tube unless absolutely necessary.”

“What about maintaining his health?” I ask, speaking for the first time. “Can you keep him alive?”

“With Trikala Syndrome?” Gordon asks, slightly surprised but nodding. “For four months, five months maybe. Mrs. Kelley, what Rick did to himself… he’s facing systemic organ failure unless the Trikala is reversed, and even then he may never be the same man.”

“Half of Rick is still more than enough for me,” I tell Gordon.

“But Rick refused treatment,” Gordon says. “Without the treatment, I’m just delaying the inevitable. And I must respect Rick’s wishes, regardless of your power of attorney. He refused the treatment using the fetal cells.”

“There’s another source of genetic code,” I reply, rubbing my stomach. “Five months? You might just have enough time.”

* * *

The house feels empty, even if all of the staff are here and it’s only Rick missing. I’ve asked the housekeepers to clean up our bedroom, and moved back into what was originally mine. Right now though I’m in the gym, not doing wushu but just walking on the treadmill while in front of me a widescreen TV plays a movie. I’m not going fast, just trying to keep myself moving and in shape for my babies.

The door opens, and Freida comes in, dressed casually like she always is now. “How’s the movie?”

“Barely paying attention,” I reply honestly, wiping at my forehead with a towel. “It’s just noise.”

“If you’re looking for a recommendation, I’d watch Iron Man,” Freida says. “It’s about a billionaire who gets injured, has a major change of heart, and becomes a superhero.”

I shake my head, smiling a little. “Already seen it. And I don’t find Robert Downey Jr. sexy.”

Freida gawks in mock disbelief, then smiles. “Okay. Well, to each their own. I’ll take tall, dark and snarky any day of the week.”

“I would have too… before I met Rick,” I reply. “And Harvey still doesn’t know?”

“So far, he’s behaving himself,” Freida replies. “If he does know, he isn’t raising hell. Probably because he knows that with your power of attorney, you can block anything he does. And he knows I’ve got your ear.”

I nod, turning my attention back to the screen. “Well, let me get another half hour on here before I’m done with my morning exercise. If you don’t mind, unless there’s an emergency I would like to be alone.”

“Of course,” Freida says. She turns, pausing at the door. “By the way, when you get back to your room, check the top drawer on your right hand dresser. I put some clothes there that I think you’ll enjoy for your exercise sessions.”

“Thank you,” I reply, putting it out of my mind as I keep walking. I’m not trying to be strenuous, but it helps distract me from the pain in my heart. Waking up and knowing where Rick is, I want to not even be here, I want to be in that room at the hospital, spending all my time with my husband. The only thing that’s gotten me out of bed the past four days is our twins. I want Rick to hold them some day soon, and that means I have to make sure all three of us stay healthy.

“Well Alexander, I guess I’ll spend plenty of time telling you about your father,” I tell my stomach, rubbing it through my t-shirt. “You too, Roxanna. You’re both going to get tired of me talking to you for the next few months.”

I keep up my steady pace, not sweating heavily but not strolling. The television keeps making pictures on the wall in front of me but I’m not really conscious of them as I tell my babies a story about how Rick and I met, switching between English and Mandarin the whole time. I know what the books say, that the babies probably can’t understand me even if their brains are conscious at this stage of development. But right now talking to them is as much for my comfort as it is for them.

When the treadmill beeps I lower the incline and reduce speed to a slow stroll, letting the show in front of me finish before stepping off. I look around the gym as I stretch, seeing everything that’s been sitting around unused since Rick’s disease started really taking a toll on him. “I’m going to change that,” I say to myself. “I’m going to learn how to use all this equipment, and use it right. So that when Rick gets better, I can be right beside him.”

That decided, I go up to my room, where Freida’s last words come back to me. I go over to the righthand of my two dressers, opening the top drawer. What I see brings tears to my eyes, as folded in nice, perfect squares are a pile of Rick’s exercise shirts. On top is one of his favorites, a silly picture of Albert Einstein’s head attached to a bodybuilder’s body. I pick it up and inhale, smelling the scent that is undeniably Rick.

To hell with it, I haven’t cried since Rick went into a coma. I can let myself cry for now.