I made my way down the hall, turning into the room where the door was ajar. The lights were dimmed, and all of the sounds had been turned down on the machines monitoring Noah’s heart, breathing, pulse ox and blood pressure, so the room was nearly silent.
My eyes went to the machines first, reading the numbers there, finding comfort in what I saw. With a quick intake of breath, I finally turned to look at the man lying on the bed.
To my almost pathetic relief, he didn’t look much different. Even unconscious, his presence dwarfed everything else. A white sheet was pulled up about half way to his chest, which rose and fell with perfect regularity.
“Hello, mag man,” I murmured. “You know, you broke your word to me. You said we were going to lay around and watch movies, remember? Have food delivered? Instead, here you are, just lazing around the hospital.” I reached down for his hand where it lay at his hip. “I miss you, Noah. I know that we’d only just started to—we hadn’t . . .” I trailed off and found a different tactic. “You remember my complex about not deserving happy endings? Well, you’re not doing anything to change my mind, bud. I’m going to think I’m a black cloud of doom if you don’t wake up and convince me otherwise.”
I watched his face slowly, willing him to move, to blink, to open his eyes and give me that slow, sexy grin of his. I held my breath, needing him to give me a sign that he could hear my words.
But nothing changed. Noah’s breathing remained even, his eyes didn’t flicker, and his mouth didn’t move.
I stayed there for another few moments, just piteously glad to see him, to touch him. I was still desperately worried about him, but with my fingers curled protectively around his, I found more hope than I had felt since Emma had broken the news.
If I hadn’t known that his mother was sitting in the waiting room—and if the nurse hadn’t delivered her stern warning about my limited visiting time—I might have laid my head down on the bed and had the best sleep I’d experienced in weeks. But since Mrs. Spencer was waiting, and the nurse was probably timing me, I settled for squeezing Noah’s hand and bending over to brush a kiss to his forehead . . . and then, because no one else was there, and I was close to crying anyway, I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, too.
Was I rememberingSnow WhiteandSleeping Beautyand channeling my inner magical kiss? Maybe. But even when Noah didn’t wake up, I had no regrets.
“I’m got to leave now before the nurse and your mom send in the National Guard to drag me out,” I whispered into his ear. “But even when I’m not next to you, I’m here, Noah. Wake up, sweetie. I miss you.”
I straightened and turned to leave, emotion choking my throat. As I walked back toward the waiting area, all of the worries and what-ifs began to crowd my mind yet again. What if Noah never woke up? What if he came out of the coma but wasn’t himself anymore? What if—
I gave my head a quick shake and took a deep, cleansing breath, putting on my game face before I had to speak with Mrs. Spencer.
But when I turned the corner, Noah’s mother was not alone. She was sitting next to a pretty woman in a short, dark red dress with coordinating heels. Her blonde hair was picture perfect, and her face, though drawn with concern as she listened to Mrs. Spencer, was skillfully made up and fresh as the proverbial daisy.
I paused next to them, touching Mrs. Spencer’s shoulder. “Thank you for allowing me to visit. I . . .” What to say next eluded me, so I let my voice trail off.
“Oh.” She looked up at me. “Do you know Juliet?”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I’d heard it recently outside the Shakespearean play.
“Oh, no, I don’t think we’ve met.” The other woman stood, and I realized how petite she was, even with a pair of sky-high heels. “Hello, I’m Juliet Connors.” She eyed my badge. “Are you one of Noah’s new doctors?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m a friend of his. We’ve known each other for a few years.”
“Oh.” Juliet appeared momentarily nonplussed by this information, but then she brightened. “Did you treat his wife who died?”
Noah’s mother had asked me the same question, but coming from this woman with her bright little chirp of a voice was somehow offensive.
“No,” I replied stiffly. “I didn’t have the privilege of knowing Angela, but several of our mutual friends did, and so I feel as if we did meet.”
“Juliet’s the team’s nutritionist. She and my son met when she started working in Tampa, and I’m just tickled to hear that they’ve grown so close.” Mrs. Spencer held Juliet’s hand. “She’s been such a comfort to his father and me during this time—she’s here all the time, she brings us food and cooks for us at her own house—Noah helped her find it.”
Now I remembered when Noah had mentioned Juliet to me. It had been the day I’d dropped him off after the wedding, and he’d been annoyed by her texts. Or at least, he’d claimed to be. Was it possible that I’d misread Noah—or the situation between us—so horribly?
“We’ve been praying so hard for our boy to finally step beyond his grief and find a good woman . . . as trying as this time has been, at least we know that when Noah opens his eyes, he’ll have Juliet to stand by his side during his recovery.”
I was so shaken and shocked that I actually opened my mouth to remark that I found it hard to believe Noah had found time to start up a dating relationship with this Juliet when he’d spent two nights in recent weeks having lots of enthusiastic sex with me. Luckily, I recovered quickly enough to snap my jaw closed.
“Isn’t that wonderful.” I spoke with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Mrs. Spencer, again, thank you for your kindness in allowing me to see Noah. If there’s anything I can do, please let Emma know. I think you’re in touch with her, yes?”
“Oh—Emma.” Mrs. Spencer pressed her lips together, and I recalled that Noah’s mother hadn’t cared for my friend when she and Noah had dated. “Certainly. I appreciate the offer. And thank you for taking the time to come see Noah. I know that somehow, he’s hearing all of the loving words from his many, many friends, and that’s what will pull him around. That, and prayer.” She nodded. “I’m sure of it.”
“Let’s hope so.” I inclined my head. “It was good to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances. Good night.” I spared Juliet the smallest nod before I pivoted on my heel and got the hell out of there.
I almost set a new land-speed record getting out of the hospital and back into my car. I drove home in a zombie-state, not stopping until I was in my own driveway.
There was a huge bomb inside me, and it was on the verge of blowing. My chest was tight, my stomach was churning again, and I wasn’t sure if I needed a good cry or a long scream. I was tempted to call Emma, tell her everything and pour my heart out to her. The only thing stopping me was that I didn’t want her pity. If Noah really hadn’t meant what he’d said to me—if the whole mess with Juliet wasn’t just a huge, convoluted and upsetting misunderstanding perpetuated by that twit and Noah’s clueless mother—then I’d end up once again being poor Alison, the one who ended up alone.
If that was how this was going to end, I’d figure out how to go on. I just needed some fucking perspective. I’d been on one date with Noah, if I didn’t count the wedding, which, yes, sue me, I did count. So two dates. Two wonderful, life-changing, world-shattering dates. We’d spent hours talking, and I’d shared things with Noah that I hadn’t spoken aloud since Tom had died. Even more incredibly, I’d told Noah some things Tom had never known. The time we’d known each other didn’t matter—it was the depth of those short hours.
But if I’d been wrong, if it had all been a pipe dream . . . I’d deal with it the same way I did just about everything.
By myself.
