She leans over the center console for a quick kiss, and then she’s out of the truck and walking up to the front door. Halfway there, she stops and blows me a kiss.

I’m going to marry her. Have wee babies with her, and build a home with her.

Maybe not in that order.

Now that she’s in my life, I have no intention of ever letting her go.

The drive to the pub only takes five minutes. I hurry in through the back door, but before I climb the stairs to the flat, something tells me to go check on the kitchen.

It’s just a feeling, a niggle at the back of my head, and I learned long ago to listen to feelings like that.

I push through the door of the kitchen and stop cold.

“Ma.” I rush to my mother, who’s doubled over and bracing herself on the counter. “What’s wrong, Ma?”

“My chest,” she groans. “And arm. My jaw. I don’t know what to do.”

I brace her in my arms as I pull my phone out of my pocket and immediately call 911.

“Emergency Services, what is your emergency?”

“I think my mother’s having a heart attack. I need an ambulance straight away.” I rattle off the address of the pub. “We’re back in the kitchen. The front door is locked, but the back door is open.”

“I’m dispatching now. Is she conscious?”

“Yes.” I describe what she looks like—gray and sweaty, with shortness of breath. My heart is in my throat as I end the call with 911 and immediately dial Maeve’s number.

“Hey,” she says in greeting.

“Get Da and meet us at the hospital. My guess is we’ll go to Seattle, but I don’t know yet.”

“What? What’s happening?”

“Ma’s having a heart attack.” I guide her to a chair and help her down. “Ambulance is on the way. I can hear the sirens now.”

“I hear them, too. Should we come to the pub?”

“I don’t think you’ll make it here in time.”

I hear Maeve running through her house. “I can’t find Da. Are you sure he’s not at the pub?”

“I’m fucking sure, Maeve. I have to go.”

I hang up as four EMTs hurry into the kitchen with a gurney and a whole host of equipment I know nothing about.

They nudge me out of the way as they immediately hook Ma up to machines that start to beep and flash.

“Definite heart attack,” one of them says. “Let’s load her up. We’re flying her to Seattle General. We’ll have her there in twenty minutes.”

“I’m going with you.”