I get my picture taken, and we hurry down corridors to find Michelle.
Susa bursts into tears again when we find her mom, and they hug, both of them crying as I get them sitting and Michelle tells us the latest update. He’s still in surgery, and listed as critical, but stable, but he’s not out of the woods yet.
“Where’s Carter?” Michelle finally asks.
“Deposition in Orlando,” Susa says before I can answer. “I told him to come later. Nothing he can do right now.”
Benchley is out of surgery and in the ICU, still unconscious, by the time Carter arrives around eight that evening. Susa’s spent the afternoon either in my arms or her mom’s, and I went in with the two of them when they allowed a brief visit after moving him from recovery into the ICU.
But when Susa sees Carter, she goes to him and I watch as he whispers to her, Susa tearfully nodding over words I can’t hear.
Frankly, I’m relieved he’s here.
Michelle leans in. “Must suck, huh?”
“What?”
“The woman you love, married to him?”
I’m emotionally frayed around the edges, worried on Susa’s behalf, and in no mood for games. “Who says it’s not the other way around?”
I mentally kick myself for saying it, but it was reflexive. Or maybe I’ve channeled too much of the bastard.
But Michelle looks at me, at them, then seems to not know how to process my statement. Which is fine by me.
When they join us I stand and, once Susa retakes her seat, I hug Carter long and hard.
“My good boy,” he whispers. “Thank you. You were perfect.”
Everything else melts away exceptHim. “Thank you, Sir.”
* * * *
Benchley pulls through, thankfully. Carter and I stay two days. Susa stays behind in Tallahassee through that weekend, because her father is a crappy patient and has no patience for Carter’s presence. Carter and I are slammed with work and the campaign anyway. Benchley warns us if we don’t get our asses back to the campaign trail, he’ll pull his endorsement.
So we ride back to Tampa together, leaving Susa’s car there for her.
Carter’s driving. The Snot Box gave way to a Mercedes a model newer than Susa’s two months after we started working at the law firm.
They’d already replaced my Subaru with a gently used Mercedes SUV our first Christmas together, while we were still in college.
And it wasn’t a disgusting shade of green, either.
I tearfully and gratefully accepted it, knowing it wasn’t merely a present from them.
It was the last tangible reminder of my mother’s former hold on me erased from my life.
We ride mostly in comfortable silence. We’re almost to Brooksville when Carter speaks. “Michelle asked me an interesting question that first night we were there, when I walked back into the ICU with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Did she say anything to you?”
I think back and remember my comment to her and tell him.
He smiles.
“Why?” I ask. “What’d she say?”
