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.”
“Yeah?” A shadow of his old smile.
I nodded. “When did you get that?”
“Last week.”
“I thought it was against your rules to tattoo a name on someone.”
“Not when the someone is me, and not when the name is yours.”
My throat closed, and I squeezed his hand.
“I still won’t do it for anyone else, because I don’t know how they feel. But I know how I feel.” His blue eyes looked dark and intense. “And I know it’s forever.”
I sniffed again, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “I love you, too.”
“No more tears, you.” He closed his eyes. The talking was tiring him out, I could tell.
“No more tears,” I promised, looking around for somewhere to sit while he slept. “And you need to rest. I’ll just sit here in this chair, okay? I won’t leave.”
“No. Come here.” He tugged on my hand.
“What?”
“Come here. In bed with me.”
“Dallas, I can’t—”
“Please?” His eyes opened again. “I missed you so much.”
My heart couldn’t take it. I glanced at the nurse’s station. “Okay. But only for a minute.”
Somehow, despite the rails and the oxygen and the IVs and machines, I managed to crawl into the twin bed next to him and cuddle up to his side.
“Much better,” he said.
I kissed his scruffy cheek. “Yes.”
“So you want to move to Portland?”
Smiling, I patted his chest. “Why don’t we wait until after the drugs wear off to talk about that?”
“I’m not high, Maren. I’m just done wasting time. I want you to live with me.”
“You do?” I could hardly breathe. Was this the same guy who told me he was too selfish to be a good boyfriend?
“Yes.”
“Won’t … won’t everyone think it’s a little sudden? And maybe crazy?”
“Fuck everyone. I don’t care what they think.”
Yeah, it was him.
I snuggled closer. “I’d love to. Let’s get you better first, and then we’ll figure it out. Deal?”
“Deal.” With effort, he shifted a little and kissed my head. “I’m just going to say it once more, and then we’re leaving the past behind. I’m sorry for what I put you through. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course I can.”
He kissed me again. “If you told me I died on the table and this was heaven, I’d believe you.”
I smiled. “It’s not, babe. This is your life. And it’s only gonna get better.”
He sighed contentedly. “Good.”
I lay there with him for a few more minutes, listening to him breathe, reassured by the solid warmth of his body and by his words.
We would have our second chance.
Maybe it was sudden. Maybe it had always been destined.
Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it made perfect sense.
Maybe love was a game of chance, played at the whims of Cupid, as random as the roll of the dice.
Or maybe it was a story written in the stars, about a boy and a girl whose hearts wouldn’t rest until they were together again.
Either way, it was always and only him.
Three Months Later
Dallas
The shop was nearly empty, and everything was in place.
Even so, I was still a little nervous. Not about what I was about to do, just about making everything perfect. Maren deserved perfection.
“You ready?” Beatriz came by my station with a grin.
“I think so.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Fuck, I hope she says yes.”
“Are you kidding me? This girl fell in love with you twelve years ago, you broke her heart—twice—she takes you back, moves across the country to be with you, nurses you back to health after brain surgery, says she’ll move to bumfuck Oregon with you to live on a ranch she’s never even seen and teach yoga to a bunch of angry teenagers, and you’re wondering if she’s gonna say yes?” She thumped me affectionately on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”
I laughed. “It seems too good to be true, that’s all.”
“Well, you deserve it. You’ve been through a lot.”
“What if she thinks it’s too soon?”
She rolled her eyes. “When you know, you know. And trust me—she knows.”
“Thanks.” I stood up and gave her a hug.
“Okay, I’m getting out of here. The champagne and cake are in the fridge and the food will be delivered as soon as I let them know to bring it, so text me when that ring is on her finger.” Beatriz, Evan, and a few other friends were going to wait at a bar down the street, then come back to celebrate with us.
“I will.”
She gave me one last smile as she headed for the front. “Good luck.”
I double-checked my station to make sure I had everything I needed, then wandered up front to wait for Maren.
“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.”
“Yeah?” A shadow of his old smile.
I nodded. “When did you get that?”
“Last week.”
“I thought it was against your rules to tattoo a name on someone.”
“Not when the someone is me, and not when the name is yours.”
My throat closed, and I squeezed his hand.
“I still won’t do it for anyone else, because I don’t know how they feel. But I know how I feel.” His blue eyes looked dark and intense. “And I know it’s forever.”
I sniffed again, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “I love you, too.”
“No more tears, you.” He closed his eyes. The talking was tiring him out, I could tell.
“No more tears,” I promised, looking around for somewhere to sit while he slept. “And you need to rest. I’ll just sit here in this chair, okay? I won’t leave.”
“No. Come here.” He tugged on my hand.
“What?”
“Come here. In bed with me.”
“Dallas, I can’t—”
“Please?” His eyes opened again. “I missed you so much.”
My heart couldn’t take it. I glanced at the nurse’s station. “Okay. But only for a minute.”
Somehow, despite the rails and the oxygen and the IVs and machines, I managed to crawl into the twin bed next to him and cuddle up to his side.
“Much better,” he said.
I kissed his scruffy cheek. “Yes.”
“So you want to move to Portland?”
Smiling, I patted his chest. “Why don’t we wait until after the drugs wear off to talk about that?”
“I’m not high, Maren. I’m just done wasting time. I want you to live with me.”
“You do?” I could hardly breathe. Was this the same guy who told me he was too selfish to be a good boyfriend?
“Yes.”
“Won’t … won’t everyone think it’s a little sudden? And maybe crazy?”
“Fuck everyone. I don’t care what they think.”
Yeah, it was him.
I snuggled closer. “I’d love to. Let’s get you better first, and then we’ll figure it out. Deal?”
“Deal.” With effort, he shifted a little and kissed my head. “I’m just going to say it once more, and then we’re leaving the past behind. I’m sorry for what I put you through. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course I can.”
He kissed me again. “If you told me I died on the table and this was heaven, I’d believe you.”
I smiled. “It’s not, babe. This is your life. And it’s only gonna get better.”
He sighed contentedly. “Good.”
I lay there with him for a few more minutes, listening to him breathe, reassured by the solid warmth of his body and by his words.
We would have our second chance.
Maybe it was sudden. Maybe it had always been destined.
Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it made perfect sense.
Maybe love was a game of chance, played at the whims of Cupid, as random as the roll of the dice.
Or maybe it was a story written in the stars, about a boy and a girl whose hearts wouldn’t rest until they were together again.
Either way, it was always and only him.
Three Months Later
Dallas
The shop was nearly empty, and everything was in place.
Even so, I was still a little nervous. Not about what I was about to do, just about making everything perfect. Maren deserved perfection.
“You ready?” Beatriz came by my station with a grin.
“I think so.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Fuck, I hope she says yes.”
“Are you kidding me? This girl fell in love with you twelve years ago, you broke her heart—twice—she takes you back, moves across the country to be with you, nurses you back to health after brain surgery, says she’ll move to bumfuck Oregon with you to live on a ranch she’s never even seen and teach yoga to a bunch of angry teenagers, and you’re wondering if she’s gonna say yes?” She thumped me affectionately on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”
I laughed. “It seems too good to be true, that’s all.”
“Well, you deserve it. You’ve been through a lot.”
“What if she thinks it’s too soon?”
She rolled her eyes. “When you know, you know. And trust me—she knows.”
“Thanks.” I stood up and gave her a hug.
“Okay, I’m getting out of here. The champagne and cake are in the fridge and the food will be delivered as soon as I let them know to bring it, so text me when that ring is on her finger.” Beatriz, Evan, and a few other friends were going to wait at a bar down the street, then come back to celebrate with us.
“I will.”
She gave me one last smile as she headed for the front. “Good luck.”
I double-checked my station to make sure I had everything I needed, then wandered up front to wait for Maren.
