Part 18 (2/2)

I get dressed. At the door, I turn back to my fiance. He's so understanding, and after the nightmare that was Chris, it's still unbelievable that he's mine.

”Go,” he says. ”She needs you.”

”I love you.”

He grins. ”I love you.”

I close our door and knock on Finley's. She doesn't answer, so I let myself in. The lights are off, but I don't need them to see her crouched in the corner, arms around her knees. She's not sobbing; Finley doesn't cry. She just goes deathly quiet.

”You should be with Maverick,” she says.

”Not tonight.”

”Did you hear?”

”Yeah.”

I sit down on the floor and gather her up in my arms. Too many times to count, she's done this with me. Now it's my turn to hold her. Words pa.s.s unspoken between us, me for once bearing some of the weight for my friend.

I hold her tighter when I feel a sob push against her chest. I know this feeling, when you don't want to let it out, but it's too big, too powerful, and demands more from you than you can give. I rest my chin on the top of her head. Pat her back to let her know it's okay to cry. When she does, she wraps her arms around me too.

We stay like that all night. Me sitting with Finley as she mourns the first guy she ever loved.

Chapter 27.

Present Day 7:17 a.m.

It's funny that when you're young, you spend so much effort thinking about how slow time is. How you can't wait for your birthday, or for Christmas, or the weekend. How in five years you'll have your license and back then that equaled freedom.

Until eight hours ago I still thought about how slow time is. I've been looking forward to next year and the year after and the year after, when maybe Maverick would move up from being the green lawyer to one who only puts in eighty hours a week instead of one hundred.

Everyone tells you to enjoy the time you have, because it flies by so fast and soon you'll look back and wonder where it went. In an instant, they say, it'll be gone.

Those people haven't sat in this chair, in a hospital where the first twenty-four hours are critical. Here, time is all you have, and it's slower here than anywhere outside these walls. In here, time barely moves at all.

I don't know if that's good or not. All I know is that Maverick's twenty-four hours aren't up, and I've never wanted time to hurry the h.e.l.l up so bad in my life. Twenty-four hours and they'll consider his blood pressure stable. Twenty-four hours for him to wake from the concussion. Twenty-four hours to control his own heart rate.

Twenty-four hours stable and they'll move him out of the ICU.

I kiss his hand again, wondering if he can feel my lips on his skin. If he knows I haven't left his side. If he knows how much I love him.

I've told him over and over since I got here, but saying it now isn't the same. No, I should have told him before he left for work this morning. Should have swallowed my pride, my hurt, and told him. Because now may be too late.

I glance over at Finley. She's still asleep, and I'm not going to wake her.

I swing my attention back to my husband. Scoot my chair so I'm closer to his head. I lower the blanket I pulled over him earlier. Then I lean over the side of his bed and lay my cheek against his arm. He's warm now, and even in a hospital, in this bed with all the machines and medications and bandages, somehow he still smells like him. The faint scent of his aftershave comforts me.

”What do you think about Elliot James Tavare?” I ask. ”For a boy. I like Jayden too. Or we could go more traditional. I've always liked Jonathan.”

My eyes lift to Maverick's heart rate monitor. I want to see a change, something that tells me he hears me, but the lines remain steady.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

”You once said you liked Astrid for a girl,” I continue. ”I know, I know. I didn't like the name when you suggested it. It sounded more like the name of a s.p.a.ce station soda than a person.” I giggle, remembering how he'd rolled his eyes at that. ”But how about Astrid Grace? I realize you think Grace is an old lady name, but one for you and one for me? The names are pretty together.

”I still think boy, though. I don't know why. A gut feeling, I guess.”

There's still no response. I touch his face, the regrown whiskers scratching my fingertip. It used to annoy me, how when he kissed me, the stiff hair would poke my upper lip. I'd always ask him to shave. I don't care now, though. I want them to scratch me.

Crazy how all of those little irritations are no longer annoying. How I crave them, because they're his quirks, and they're more than what I have now.

It's been so long since I've had his arms around me. So long since we just lay in bed, holding each other and talking about silly stuff. So long since he kissed me and made the earth shake around us. Since we've been intimate.

I imagined our marriage would be like Cancun. Love, s.e.x, and smiles. And for awhile, it was. It was everything I'd hoped and more.

And then the last six months happened.

But now as I snuggle against his motionless body, I still remember all of those little touches. The pecks on the cheek. The smacks on the a.s.s. The playful way he'd grab me from behind and carry me to our bed. Once there, his touches ranged from desperate and rough to delicate and smooth. I love them all.

Regret kicks in, was.h.i.+ng away the cornflower color of the hospital blanket. I should have memorized him more. Should have basked in his embrace, in his mouth against mine, in the loving stares he pinned on me. His smile. Oh, I never want to forget the way that simple motion stirred my stomach and made me feel like the most precious thing in his life.

How did I ever doubt that? When did his declarations of love, his kisses, his smile stop being enough? Why did I ever question his commitment to us?

I allow a tear to fall from my cheek and absorb into the hospital gown covering Maverick's chest. I can't stand how I feel right now. Maverick used to pull me against him and become my anchor. He'd take my despair, and when he tilted my head to look me in the eyes, the only thing left would be love.

I'm a boat, sailing aimlessly on the ocean.

”As soon as you wake up, you pick, okay? Because you were right; a name would be good.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I wipe the tears away when J.J. arrives. She's pus.h.i.+ng the blood pressure cart, and I check the time. Only thirty minutes since last time.

”Is everything okay?” I ask.

”His lab work results indicated a slight increase in his red blood cell count.” She undoes the cuff and wraps it around his upper arm. ”It's just a precaution at this point.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Just a precaution.

Chapter 28.

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