“Alan Francis Doyle, I need you here now!” Buffy said urgently, nearly frantic, into the phone to her beloved husband.
“Lass, I’m on my way. I’m comin’, just relax,” the dark haired Irishman with the piercing blue eyes said into his cell phone as he stripped off his white “Pediatrician’s Garb” to reveal a crisp white button down. “I’m puttin’ on my suit jacket now and I’ll be on my way.”
“Hurry, please, I’m nervous.”
Doyle smiled, she sounded more than nervous. She sounded downright terrified. “I would have been leavin’ sooner had Billy not decided to throw up everywhere.”
“Oh God! Did he throw up on you? Do you smell?”
He laughed into the phone, “No, lass, I don’t smell. He got it on the floor before we could get him to the bathroom.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, sweets.”
“Flu?”
“Ay, just like I had last week.”
He could practically hear Buffy smiling on the other end. “And I nursed you back to health didn’t I?” she said saucily, conjuring up all sorts of memories that would have had Doyle straining in his pants if he continued to travel down that path and reminisce.
“Ay you did, but let’s not talk about that now.”
Buffy laughed then, an angelic laugh that made his heart soar. “Okay. Just get here, I need you.”
“Then you’re going to have to let me go, sweets.”
“Okay, hurry.”
Clicking off his cell, he quickly closed down his office and grabbed his backpack filled with the essentials: book, stethoscope he always took with him, a change of clothes and his wedding ring. The idea of losing the silver ring with the inscription 'Gra geal mo chroi' meaning ‘Love of My Heart’ in Gaelic, made Doyle panicky. He was a superstitious man at times, even if Buffy did chide him for it, and he felt that it would not bode well for them to have one part of that set lost. So, he opted to put his ring in his backpack in a beaten up, faded and well used navy velvet box. He set it at the bottom of his bag where he’d know it would be protected and safe. The last thing he wanted was for it to get lost while he poked and prodded the wee tots that tramped in and out of his small office in Sunnydale General Hospital. Reaching down into the bag, he moved his hand around, feeling for it.
“Where the--?” he muttered, feeling his heart kick up at the idea that it might not be there. Frustrated because he was already late, he grabbed the bag and turned it upside down, dumping the belongings onto his desk. The velvet box tumbled out and he sighed in relief. Opening it, he slid it on and smiled. Buffy had the same ring; just a smaller, daintier version and he felt the bond of their union instantly. He knew right about now she was twisting her ring around on her finger nervously as she waited for him.
Stuffing his things back in his bag, he waved goodnight to his receptionist and nurse and trotted to his car. Hopefully he had enough time to make it to the florist before meeting up with the love of his life.
********
Buffy Summers - Doyle twisted her silver wedding ring around and around on her hand, and gnawed on her bottom lip. Raising her wrist, she looked at her watch. Five forty-five.
“Buffy, he’ll be here,” her best friend Anya Jenkins, told her reassuringly as she set out a platter of scallops wrapped in bacon at the refreshments table. “However, if my waiters do not get here, I will be serving their balls as hors d’ oeuvre’s.”
Buffy giggled despite the nervousness she felt and glanced one more time at her watch. Walking to the front of her mother’s art gallery, she pushed the curtain aside carefully, careful not to draw attention to the natives outside waiting patiently for the doors to open.
No sign of her husband.
She jumped a mile when Anya laid a hand on her shoulder and put pressure on it, giving her the signal to turn around.
Buffy swiveled and faced her. “What?”
Anya had that face, ‘that face’ meaning she was about to give her a pep talk slash lecture. “Buffy Summers – Doyle. You need to relax. This place looks fantastic. You have done a fantastic job of carrying on your mother’s legacy. You should be proud of yourself. Those people out there are going to be singing you praises for bringing this gallery back to life.”
Buffy nodded, swallowing despite how dry her throat felt. “I know, I just . . .”
“Stop being so nervous. And stop twisting that ring before you burn a hole in it. You know Doyle would freak if anything happened to either one of your rings.”
Buffy grinned. “I know.”
“Now take a deep breath—“
“I’m going to call him again,” Buffy said and started for the phone.
“Buffy—“
“I just want to see how close he is!” Buffy called out and went to the back to get her cell phone. Pressing in the redial, she put the phone to her ear and tapped her foot impatiently.
“Lass, I’m comin’,” Doyle said immediately.
“Doyle, there’s so many people outside and I need you here. I’m scared.”
“I know, and I’m almost there.”
“If you left when I last spoke with you, you should have been here already. What are you doing?”
“Lass—“
“Don’t ‘lass’ me. Doyle, what are you doing?” she demanded.
“You’re going to make me later than I already am,” he pointed out calmly.
“Oh don’t do that!”
“You know I hate talking on this blasted thing while driving,” he muttered and she could see him in her minds eye talking out the side of his mouth.
She smiled, “Suck it up. I want to hear your voice until you can be here in the flesh. You soothe me.”
“I’m sure I – shit!”
There was a horrible screeching sound in the background and Buffy’s eyes widened, “Doyle?” Silence. “Doyle?”
The phone made a clicking sound and she looked at it. “Call Ended” it flashed. She tried calling him again and it rang and rang. Again she tried. It rang and rang. Twisting her ring, Buffy rushed to the front a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Something was wrong; horribly wrong.
“Anya, I have to go—“
“You are not going—“
“Something’s wrong with Doyle. I was talking to him and he swore and the call ended.”
“Call him back!”
“I tried that! I’m going.”
“Buffy, I’m sure he’s fine, he probably disconnected to avoid an accident.”
“I want to make sure.”
“Buffy!” Anya shouted as Buffy ran to the back and ran out the back door to her car in search of her husband.