Love Me (The Elites of Cheshire shore #2)

9. Florence

CHAPTER NINE

florence

I drop my bag, slip off my sneakers, leaving them by the closed door, and slump back, letting my head fall back, absolutely exhausted. We lost a patient on the table today; it always drains me mentally and emotionally when this happens. I know it’s a hazard of the job, knowing that death and mortality are inevitable, but I carry every single patient I’ve lost in my career with me. Thankfully there haven’t been many. I know as my career progresses there will be more; it would be stupid for me to think I can go through my career without mortality looming over my head. In med school they taught us to compartmentalize death, to detach ourselves from our empathetic side. In theory it seems easy. Well, not easy, but doable. In practice though, adrenaline courses through your veins as the little voice in your head continues to tell you, Just keep going, just another chest compression . Watching the heartbeat flatline on the monitor knowing you’ve tried everything in your power to save the person’s life but it still wasn’t enough—it leaves a hollow ache in my chest and sends me straight back to the day my dad died.

My phone ringing interrupts my thoughts, and my mood starts to lift when I see the name on the screen.

“Hey, Livvy.”

Since meeting Livvy Blake a couple of weeks ago, we’ve kind of become fast friends. It’s hard to not love Livvy; the person she is online is exactly who she is in real life: genuine, funny, and super caring. We’ve been out a handful of times together since our night at Club Trix, when my schedule has allowed. Sof even added me into the group chat, while I haven’t met Kendall face-to-face yet—on account of her being in Paris—I can’t wait to meet her. Hopefully during the racing off-season Lottie will spend some more time in Cheshire Shore, and she can come hang out with the girl gang.

“Hey, Flo, I’m just calling to see if you were free this weekend to have a girls’ weekend? The guys have their poker night, and we thought we should have our own fun.”

“This weekend?” I bite my lip and lift the phone away from my ear, logging onto the app that the hospital posts our schedules on. After a quick check, I see I’m working Sunday, but I finish at a decent time on Friday and have Saturday off. “Yeah, I can swing it,” I say. Even if I have to leave early, I’d rather spend a few hours with them than cancel.

“Awesome, I’ll send you the details.”

“Perfect,” I reply, hanging up the call just as a knock sounds on my door.

Odd, I’m not expecting anyone. Unless it’s Luca? I called him right after I finished work and told him all about my horrible day. Though, talking to Luca about death isn’t the best idea; it doesn’t affect him as much, and comforting isn’t really his strong suit.

I open the door and look down to find a gold box with a red ribbon tied around it. No postage stamp or delivery details printed on it. Weird . I didn’t order anything. Lifting the box up, my eyes nearly bulge out of my head, it’s heavier than expected, not that I can’t handle it. I keep myself in shape purposely for picking up heavy presents left outside my door. I kick the door closed and cross the small foyer, placing the box on the table. I quickly type a message to Luca, a small smile touching my lips as my fingers fly across the screen.

Flo

Thank you x

Maybe I was wrong, he’s stepping up his comforting game. Unwrapping the ribbon, I lift the lid and tear the lilac tissue paper away. I inhale a sharp breath. Nestled in the box is five large glass jar candles, all with the words cannoli scented written on them. I lift the first candle from the box, removing the lid and inhaling deeply . It’s the same deliciously sweet scent as Bea’s dinner party candles.

The last candle in the box piques my attention; it’s slightly bigger than the others and has a pretty swirl piped on top. I pick the candle up and lift the glass lid, expecting it to smell like the cannoli candles. I’m pleasantly surprised to find it’s a completely different scent. I roll the candle around in my hand and, in a stunning calligraphy-style script, the word lollipop is printed on the gold label. It smells like a heady mixture of jasmine and cinnamon, definitely not a lollipop. Its strange combination is vaguely familiar. Inhaling again, I try to put my finger on it. Then it hits me. It almost smells like my perfume. Why would Luca get a personal candle made in my scent? That’s a little over the top, even for him.

My phone chirps, distracting me from the candles.

Luca

Don’t know what you’re thanking me for. But keep it up.

Well, that answers that question: Luca was not the thoughtful, caring BFF I gave him credit for, but he must’ve told someone who is. There is only one person who calls me lollipop. Tapping on Rome’s name, I quickly type.

Flo

Thanks for the candles. I love them.

Rome

Anytime, lollipop. Make sure you put one on and relax tonight in a bath.

Flo

Bath + Candle + Kindle = sounds perfect

Rome

After today you deserve it x

I guess Luca told him about my shitty day. A heavy feeling settles over my chest, rubbing the palm of my hand along the back of my neck, I roll my head from side to side to try and release some of the tension. I need a bath, to relax my tired muscles. Grabbing the lollipop candle, I pad my way down the carpeted corridor to the bathroom. I need to scrub the feeling of death off my skin .

The scent of smoke wakes me up. Thick and acrid. I must have dozed off in the bathtub. After such an emotional day I’m usually so drained I fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. I just don’t make a habit of falling asleep in my bathtub. I blink a few times and look around the room, something is on fire. I sit up quickly, water sloshes across the lip of the tub onto the tiled floor. Something is on fire. I shiver from how cold the bath water has become. Shit, how long was I asleep? In the distance I hear sirens wailing. I shake my head, clearing the sleepiness . What is happening? The hair on the back of my neck is raised, the smell of smoke only becoming stronger. Bringing me to the realization, something is very wrong.

I scan the room. My lollipop candle is still burning, but it’s safely contained in its little jar. While my bathroom isn’t on fire, something is. I need to get out of here, and quick. My heart rate kicks up when I see the smoke wafting through the gap in the bottom of the door, filling the space. I cough and cover my mouth with my hand. I grip the side of the tub, lifting myself out of the icy water. I quickly blow out my candle. Grabbing my fluffy bathrobe from the hook on the wall, I smash my arms through and tie it up, making sure to tuck my phone and Kindle in the deep pockets and bundle my wet hair in a towel. I cover my face with the arm of my robe before opening the door. The smoke is even thicker out here, it makes my eyes water as soon as I step out into the hall.

Fuck, remember your fire training . I never thought I would use the skills from that summer my mom insisted I spent a week at survival training camp, but it might be what saves my life tonight. I’ve got to remember to thank her. I stick low to the ground and grab the first pair of shoes I find lying around, I need to make my way out of the building. I crawl through the living room to my front door. The smoke fills the air, but it isn’t dense enough that I can’t see. That’s got to be a good sign, right? As soon as I open the door, I see my neighbors all trying to flee through the emergency exit, but someone catches my attention.

“Cover your face,” I call to my neighbor, Jane, a few doors down. From her doorway, Jane looks up at me, her eyes wide with fear. She is holding her five-year-old son, Tyler, in his Spider-Man pajamas. Sticking low to the wall, I crawl over to them, taking my hair out of the towel and wrapping it around the little boy’s body, trying to cover as much as I can so the fire won’t burn his clothes to him.

“I’m scared,” Tyler cries, the alarm continuing to wail at an obnoxiously high pitch.

“Don’t be scared, sweetie, tonight you need to be brave like Spider-Man. That’s why you have this cool cape, I need you to keep your sleeve over your mouth,” I tell him, yelling to be heard above the alarm, and I tighten the towel around his body. Flicking my eyes up to meet Jane’s, I nod to her, making sure she’s all right. Jane nods back, sharing my thought: we need to get out of this building ASAP. We have a long way to go, we’re twenty-seven floors up. Tyler nods his head and covers his mouth.

“We have to get to the stairs.” I cough, pulling them toward the emergency exit.

“I don’t think I can carry him down the stairs,” Jane whispers as Tyler slowly crawls beside her. We make it to the emergency exit, and pulling the door open, I look over at Tyler.

“I got it,” I whisper back. Bending down, I tell Tyler, “Hop on, buddy, we’re going to have a Spidey ride down the stairs.”

Tyler jumps on my back and I lock his legs around my waist, holding his thigh in place with one hand while the other holds his wrists around my shoulders. “Remember, buddy, you need to keep your cape on. It holds all your superpowers.” Jane lets me go down the stairs first, securing her arms around Tyler’s body and follows close behind us. We cough as the air continues to thicken, making my lungs burn with each breath.

“You okay, buddy?” I ask as we hit the halfway point.

“Yes,” Tyler replies. The emergency door opens as more residents flood the staircase.

“You’re so brave, Tyler,” Jane tells him as we continue to descend down. Tyler holds my shoulders in a death grip, but I compartmentalize the pain; my sole focus is getting Tyler and Jane out of the stairwell and to the exit.

It feels like forever, but we finally hit the emergency exit door and are spit out into the cold Cheshire Shore night. Emergency services line the street, hands reach forward and take Tyler from my back.

“Check him over for smoke inhalation,” I tell the EMT workers. A dozen emergency service vehicles line the sidewalk as more residents of the building keep spilling out. I can already tell the EMTs are being spread thin as ambulances leave to take the more critical patients to the hospital. Another rush of adrenaline courses through my veins as I set to work helping check over people, directing EMTs to people who immediately need to go to the hospital. I don’t stop, even after my bones have turned to jelly, any last remnants of energy have been used up. These people need me. Ten fire trucks line the curb, trying to contain the blaze as thick plumes of smoke rise from the top of my building.

“Thank you so much, Flo.” Jane squeezes my elbow before she follows into the van the EMTs took Tyler. Resting my hands on my knees, I take in deep lungfuls of fresh air.

“Florence,” Rome’s panicked voice bellows. “Dr. Florence Liu-Savino, where is she?” Warm hands wrap around my shoulders. “Flo.” It’s a hoarse whisper against my temple.

Turning, I fling my arm around his waist and bury my head in his chest. “Rome.” A warm tear slides down my cheeks as I breathe him in. The adrenaline suddenly leaks from my body and my knees threaten to give out. Rome’s grip on me tightens. “I’ve got you, baby.” Relieved he has me secured in his arms, I relax into his hold.

“I’m here, lollipop. I’m here. You’re safe,” he continues to whisper into my head. “You’re safe and I won’t let anything happen to you.” I didn’t know how much I needed to hear his words as more tears leak out from the corner of my eye and the realization settles: my apartment, all my belongings are gone.

Panicked I touch my chest. Oh no, everything in my life is replaceable, except my dad’s necklace; I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve left it behind. I breathe a sigh of relief when I brush it under my fingertips. A lot of things in my apartment are replaceable; my dad’s neckless, though, is not.