My boyfriend laughs loudly. The warm sound is a balm on the weight of today. “Bye, dickweed,” he replies.
The door clicks shut and Teddy stares at it for a beat beforeshaking his head. “Fuck, I’ll miss them both. I need to see Mel, then we can go.”
We walk down to the second floor where the counseling offices are. Mel’s door is ajar, soft piano music drifting out. She looks up as we enter.
She appears to be in her late fifties or early sixties, her shoulder-length curls streaked with gray. There’s an ease about her, but also something formidable. Like she’s seen enough pain to never flinch, yet still cares every single time. Between that and what Teddy has shared, I’m a fan already.
“You must be Ivy. It’s nice to meet you in person,” she greets me with a warm smile.
I step forward to shake her hand. “You too. I come bearing gifts.” I pull the small plant out of the tote bag—an aloe vera in a blue ceramic pot with little hand-painted waves curling along the side. “He said you needed another low-maintenance office friend.”
Mel blinks and looks at Teddy fondly. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “It’s technically from both of us.”
Mel touches the rim of the pot gently and sets it on her bookshelf next to another potted plant. “Thank you both.” She steps forward and hugs Teddy tightly. “You did the work, Teddy. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“I am. Thank you for everything, Mel.”
“Let me know how the surgery goes. And remember: you’ll get through any outcome with the strength you have inside you. You hear me?”
He nods and takes a deep breath. “I hear you. And I’ll hold on to that when doubt creeps in.”
We share a few more words before finally stepping back into the hallway. Teddy exhales slowly, squaring his shoulders, and I slip my hand into his as we head out.
Our next stop is the hospital—the place where everything started.
Vitrectomy, the type of eye surgery Teddy is having, isn’t a long procedure, but they had to put him under. So I’ve decided to stay until he wakes up. To my delight, three other important people are here with me: Uncle Jake, Em and Jasper.
Jasper’s been cracking jokes, Jake brought coffee and snacks, and Em has been a calming presence. Being together has helped keep our spirits high, even as we all glance at the clock more times than we would like to admit. Underneath the chatter, each of us is mentally holding our breath until we see him.
The door across the room opens and a nurse steps through, clipboard clutched to her chest. “Mr. Seaborn is up and in recovery,” she tells us. “He’s asking for Ivy?”
I’m on my feet instantly. “I’ll take you up,” she offers gently, but I’m halfway down the hall, her words catching up to me. My heart pounds faster with every step, relief and worry tangling into something sharp in my chest.
The recovery wing is hushed. My sneakers squeak on the polished floor as I follow the signs, weaving past drawn curtains and softly beeping monitors until I find him.
Teddy is propped upright in the hospital bed, his hair a rumpled mess. There’s an IV in one arm, a monitor clipped to his finger, but it’s the bandages that stop me in my tracks, white gauze wrapped gently around his head. Suddenly I’m back to that very first time we met, when he looked just as fragile and breakable, and yet still managed to smile at me. The déjà vu aches and soothes at once.
It hits me how fiercely I love him—how I would sit through a thousand waits like today just to be there for my love.In a heartbeat, I’m at his side, wrapping my fingers around his. “Teddy,” I whisper, breath catching.
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” he murmurs.
“It’s even better to see you awake.” I tell him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got my ass kicked,” he jokes weakly. His hand squeezes mine, a little stronger this time.
I glance at the charts clipped to the end of his bed, brow furrowing. “Your vitals look good and steady. You’re doing better than you think.”
“Then get in here with me. I need you close,” he murmurs, tilting his head toward the space beside him.
I take off my sneakers and slip onto the bed, carefully curling against his side as best I can without jostling the IV. His arm comes around me, warm despite the chill of the hospital room, and I melt into the safety of his heartbeat. For the first time all day, my breathing evens out, matching his. The reality beyond this room feels impossibly far away. Once again, it’s just us two.
His expression softens into a content smile. “I love you more than anything else in this world.”
“Love you, too, my Theodore,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple, careful of the bandages.
“I hope the worst part is now over.”
