“Just one woman. Just my wife.” His eyes closed again, and he nodded slightly. “I know. It’s not the norm anymore, but there you go. We started dating when we were in high school, and we were always together. Until she died.”
“That’s so . . .” I was at a loss for words.
“Old-fashioned? Corny?” Noah suggested.
“I was going to say sweet and just . . . I don’t know. It kind of breaks my heart. I wish I’d known Angela. Everyone talked about her with such love.”
“She was incredible.” Noah sighed. “She was funny and bright and every time she walked into a room, everyone got happier. I know that sounds like I’m making it up, but you ask anyone, even people who only met her once. They’ll say the same.” He glanced down to where our hands were still linked on the edge of the bed. “When people die, especially when they die young, those left behind sometimes try to canonize them, you know? Make them better than they actually were, forget their faults, paint them as perfect. I don’t have any problem remembering Ang’s faults. She could focus on the wrong things. She could get consumed with material things, stuff like how our house looked, whether or not she was wearing the right clothes . . . when we first moved to Houston, our first team with the league, she worried a lot about how the other wives saw her. But the thing with Angela was that when you called her on shit like that, she never got mad or defensive. She would take it under consideration. Think about it. Sometimes, when I’d say something, Ang would come back and tell me I was wrong, but others, she’d say I was right.”
“That’s rare.” I pressed my lips together. “If you were only going to have one great love of your life, you were really lucky to have a woman like that.”
“That’s exactly what I told—uh, someone the other day. Why do I need anyone else in my life if I already had the best, right?” Noah’s head fell back onto the pillow.
“I know what you mean.” I leaned forward a little. “I don’t know if Emma ever told you, but I was engaged once. To a doctor I worked with. He died a while before I moved to Florida, about six weeks before we were supposed to get married. He was killed in a car accident.”
“God, no. I had no idea.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, Alison. That’s—damn. It sucks.”
“It really does. But you know, what the two of us shared was beautiful while we had it. One of my therapists asked me not long after Tom died if the love was worth the pain. She wanted to know if given the chance, I’d give up the time I’d had with him if it meant giving up the grief, the loss . . . I didn’t have to think about it for a minute. I wouldn’t have missed those months for anything in the world.”
“I feel the same way about Angela.” Noah let out a long, shuddering breath. “Jesus Christ, this is fucked up. By the time the damn doctor gets here, they’ll have to cut off the leg.”
“I don’t think we’re quite to that point yet, Mr. Spencer.” A nurse threw back the curtain and strode into the cubicle. “I’m sorry for the delay, but I’m here with your pain meds now, and Dr. Taleb is in the building. He’s on his way here.”
“Thank God,” I breathed. Standing up, I released Noah’s hand and moved out of the nurse’s way. “Noah, since it seems you’re going to be taken care of now, I’ll go check on my patient. Good luck with everything. I hope . . . well, you’re going to be fine.”
“Alison.” He called out to me, and I paused, glancing back over my shoulder. “Thank you. For staying with me, I mean. I really appreciate it.”
I managed a smile. “You’re welcome, Noah. I’ll see you at the wedding, right?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled long, his face relaxing slightly as the stronger meds hit his system. “See you there. Save me a dance, okay? Assuming I still have two legs, that is.”
“Sure. I’ll do that.” I shot him one last smile. “Bye, Noah.”
