I nod along. For the first time since I learned this was the path she chose, I get it. I see exactly why she’d want to take a more non-traditional route that doesn’t pay or put her at risk. “I’ll admit that I didn’t understand why you’d want to volunteer for that, but I get it now.”
“It isn’t forever. I figured if a grant was available to cover living expenses, I could complete my residency the way I’ve always dreamed of. My plan has always been to come back to the States afterwards, whether that’s here or back in New York with my mom. I'd like to find a smaller hospital for my fellowship and hopefully stay there afterwards. But I just…”
“You wanted this,” I finish.
She nods. “Now if I could just talk to the person who cut the funding and convince them I’m worthy, you could get rid of me and we’d both be happier.”
I try to smile at her joke, but I don’t know if I’d be happier if she was gone. I don’t have time to dwell on that because the memory of my conversation with Richard comes to the forefront of my mind.
I had a hand in her grant falling through.
“What exactly happened with your funding?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I had applied for this grant that wouldn’t pay much, but it’d be enough to cover health insurance, which I obviously need. Basic medical care, insulin, and the rest would go toward minimum payments on student loans since I’m like a quarter of a million in debt.”
Christ. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting my head fall to the back of the couch. I’ve spent a lot of time with Richard over the last fifteen years, especially once I finished my residency and fellowship. I’ve seen him do … questionable things to get what he wants. He’s mentioned from time to time that he wishes things had gone differently with Annaliese and that he regrets letting their relationship fizzle. Maybe it was foolish of me to believe that him wanting her in the city had more to do with their relationship than it was him disapproving of her career path.
“What are you thinking about?” Annaliese asks through a yawn. She raises her arms over her head, her torso stretching with the act. I can’t help but watch as her chest rises and her bare skin nearly brushes against my fingertips, which are still splayed over her stomach.
“You’re pretty incredible, you know that?” I tell her with sincere honesty. “There aren’t many people who can do what you do.”
She furrows her brow a bit. “There are a lot of type one diabetics in the world who do far more exciting things than me.”
I shrug. “Maybe. But you do it with such grace. You are tough, even if it is almost to the point of being stubborn.”
She goes to respond, but when she opens her mouth, another yawn escapes.
I reluctantly let my arm fall from her waist and stand, offering her a hand. “Want me to show you the guest bedrooms?”
“Are you going to sleep?”
“I’ll probably stay up a bit, catch up on sports.” And likely think about her.
“Do you mind if I lie here for a bit? I’m sure the beds are comfortable, it’s just…”
She doesn’t want to be alone.
I interrupt before she starts to explain herself, “Absolutely. Here, one second.”
I move down the hall toward my bedroom, bypassing the two guest bedrooms as well as the bathroom that still smells like her eucalyptus. Pulling the pillows from my bed, I tuck them both under one arm then grasp the corner of my comforter with the other hand. With a firm tug, it’s untucked and draped over my arms.
I carry the fluffy mess back to the living room, tossing a pillow on the opposite end of the sectional along with the blanket. I usher for her to sit up, and when she does, I switch out the couch pillow for my own. She hums in approval when she sinks into it, the sound a straight shot to my groin.
Fluffing the comforter once, I lay it on top of her and tuck it under her sides like a burrito. She happily burrows in, a smile crossing her face as she wiggles onto her side. I move to sit at the other end of the couch, reaching for the remote to change the channel.
“I hope you don’t mind sports highlights,” I tell her as I scroll through the options. And when she doesn't respond I glance over, finding her fast asleep.
I watch her for a few minutes. The fluttering of her lashes against her creamy skin. The freckles that dot her nose and the apples of her cheeks. I look forward to the morning when her curly hair is unruly and knotted. When her voice is scratchy from a heavy night's sleep.
I turn on my side on the other end of the couch, stretching out until our toes nearly touch. The comforter is big enough for the both of us, and I settle in for a night sleeping on my couch, ready to be there for her if she needs me. A silent promise to her that she won’t wake up alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Colter
I’mstandingoutsideRichard’soffice before he even arrives come Monday morning.
With two cups of coffee already in my system, I have yet to work off the nervous energy that’s filtering through my veins.
