Part 27 (1/2)
Present day 11:29 a.m.
For some reason I thought he'd look worse after the second surgery. When Finley dragged me out of the room, his skin was ashen, and his lips weren't the color of lips anymore. Tremors shook his muscles, and the monitors flashed. Nurses surrounded his bed. It was a nightmare painted in crimson.
But now the crimson has faded. Maverick's skin isn't as pale, and his lips are closer their natural peach hue. He's motionless on the bed again, the monitors showing steady lines and normal-range numbers. Laney was in here a few minutes ago, but she's gone now.
I'm back to studying monitors and waiting for a miracle to happen. I keep imagining the moment when Maverick's eyes open. I'm awake too, in my daydream, even though it's dark outside. We're alone, because Finley is asleep or in the cafeteria.
It takes me a second to realize what's happening. Even in my daydream I wonder if I'm daydreaming. Is this real?
His eyelids flutter. Then he blinks before he focuses on me.
I move closer, waiting for another sign. For him to move or say something that makes me believe his eyes opening isn't just an unconscious muscle reflex.
”Maverick?” I whisper.
”Alieya,” he husks out.
And that's it. I can't get past my name.
I play out a scenario where I fling myself on top of him, cut off his oxygen, and rip open the sutures on his chest. I don't like that ending.
Next is one where Maverick looks away from me. He's sad, disappointed, and it's too much like yesterday morning. I cut that off before it goes any further. It won't happen that way. I won't let it.
In a third, he forces a smile.
”I love you,” he murmurs, reaching for me.
I nod, a stream of relieved tears flowing down my cheeks. ”I love you, Mav.”
Then the monitors flash and his body convulses. Nurses run in again. I hear a long, solid beep from his heart monitor. I glance up to see a thin, red line going across the screen.
”Get the crash cart,” someone says.
”Ma'am, you should wait outside,” a nurse says to me.
I don't move.
Someone wheels the cart in beside Mav's bed.
”Clear!”
His back comes off the bed as metal presses onto his chest. The red line remains unbroken.
”Clear!”
”Ma'am.”
”Maverick,” I say.
”Ma'am, I need you to wait outside.”
”No response.”
”Again. Clear!”
”Nothing.”
”Mav!”
”Clear!”
”Maverick!”
”He's not responding.”
A moment of silence pa.s.ses. ”Note the time.”
I pull myself out of the daydream and squeeze Maverick's hand. The steady spikes in the heart rate monitor calm me, but not enough to wipe the image completely from my mind. I kiss Mav's fingers.
”I'm here, Mav, okay? I'm not leaving again.” I smooth hair back from his forehead. Kiss his brow. ”You hear me, Maverick? I'm not leaving. Never.”
Chapter 42.
Chicago, Illinois Five months ago Maverick took the afternoon off on the day of our first doctor's appointment. Finley volunteered to come too, claiming G.o.dmother privileges, but I politely declined. Good thing I shared the appointment date with her the day of, or she might've showed up anyway. Probably would've talked my ear off with baby shower ideas she's already planning. I'm supposed to get back to her with a guest list, even though it's not for another six months.
The receptionist hands me a clipboard and pen. ”Just bring it back up when you're finished.”
The first pages are easy, but then I get to family history.
”Does anyone in your family have heart disease?” I ask.
”Um, I think my great uncle did.”
”Do great uncles count?”
”Let me see.” I hand the form over to Maverick. He slides a finger down the list. ”Yes to this one... Yes here... No for the rest.”
”How do you know all that stuff?”
”I guess I figure if I know, then the answer is yes. If I don't, the answer is no.”
He gives me the clipboard back. ”Maybe I should call my mom. I know absolutely nothing about my dad's side.”
”You could, but then you'd have to tell her you're pregnant.”
”Oh, right.”