Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I glanced at my suitcase and wondered if it would be terrible manners to open it up here in the lobby and dig out one or the other color. But before I came to a conclusion, I heard my name.
“Maren?”
I turned and saw an older, slightly less muscular version of Dallas walking toward me, holding a Styrofoam coffee cup. The resemblance was enough to make my belly flip-flop, although, as he got closer, I saw more differences. His hair was a little thinner and darker, his forehead had more lines, and his chin didn’t have a cleft. But when he smiled, I saw Dallas again.
“Hi,” I said, throwing my arms around him before I could stop myself.
He laughed and hugged me back a little awkwardly. “Hi. I’m glad you made it.”
“Me too.” I released him and stood back. “Although I’m a little mortified. I just realized I’m wearing two different shoes.”
Smiling, Finn shook his head. “Dallas isn’t going to care about your shoes, although that’s pretty funny. Your mind must have been elsewhere this morning?”
“Uh, yeah. So everything went okay?” I asked nervously.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Is he awake?”
“He’s sleeping right now. Follow me.”
While we walked to the elevators, Finn explained the surgery to me and said that even though he’d been awake, Dallas probably wouldn’t remember much and hadn’t felt any pain. “He’s got to be in neuro-ICU for at least a day so they can monitor him closely for bleeding, infection, or seizure activity. Barring any issues like that, he’ll be moved to the tenth floor tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Okay. Did the surgeon say whether the mass was benign or malignant?”
Finn smiled. “Looks benign. We’ll know for sure when the biopsy results are back.”
“Oh, thank God.” I touched my chest, breathing a huge sigh of relief.
“I didn’t tell him you were coming,” Finn said. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”
I bit my lip. “Will the shock of seeing me hurt him?”
Finn laughed. “No. I think he’ll be very glad to know you’re here.”
“Okay.”
Finn studied the lid of his coffee cup. “He told me what happened.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. We’ve …” He cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking a lot more over the last week or so. Last night, he sort of spilled his guts to me about you.” His cheeks went a little red.
“I’m glad. He probably needed someone to talk to.”
“I think he did.”
“I never got any of his messages until last night. I was at a silent yoga retreat center in Maine. No electronic devices.”
Finn’s eyes went wide. “Really? No wonder.”
The doors opened, and I went out first, still pulling my stupid suitcase. “Yes, and I have a room at a hotel here in Boston, I just haven’t checked in yet. I came straight to the hospital from the bus station.”
“Don’t worry about that. Bree or I can take you over to your hotel when you’re ready. I imagine you’re anxious to see Dallas.”
I nodded quickly. My heart was galloping inside my chest. “Yes.”
“It’s one visitor at a time, so I’ll wait out here. Bree has the kids in the cafeteria for lunch, so no one’s in there now. I can keep your suitcase out here in the waiting area.”
“Okay.”
He pointed toward a closed glass door. “Right through there.”
I turned toward it and took a deep breath. My legs felt shaky as I walked toward his room and slid the door open. They nearly gave out when I saw him lying there in a railed bed, eyes closed, oxygen tube in his nose, bandage on his head, an IV in his left arm and another in his right hand.
But his face was the same, and it took my breath away. The room was sort of dark—the blinds were closed—and I moved closer, careful not to wake him. My hands kneaded together. I wanted to touch him so badly. Stroke his hair, caress his cheek, hold his hand. His arms were lying on top of the blanket…
And that’s when I saw it.
Maren, in beautiful script on the inside of his left forearm.
Tears dripped down my cheeks. When had he done that?
I sniffed, and his eyes opened. He blinked.
“Hi,” I said softly, my heart spilling over with love.
“Hi.” He paused. “Is this real?”
I laughed gently. “Yes.”
“You’re really here?”
“I’m here.” Smiling through tears, I reached over the rail and took his hand.
He closed his eyes for a moment, almost like he was praying. When he opened them, they were shining. “You got my email?”
I nodded. “Yes. It made me so happy.”
“Good.”
“Finn said the surgery was a success.”
“That’s what I hear.” He spoke slightly slower and more quietly than usual, but not enough to worry me. It was probably from the drugs. He had to be drowsy.
“How are you feeling? Any pain?”
“No. Not even a headache yet.”
“That’s wonderful.” I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. “I like your new tattoo.”