“I do.” Looking at my friend, I instinctively know I’m not going to like what she says next.
“You have to consider what happens if he remains in a coma indefinitely. If the choice is made to keep him like that. It’s already been a year. How long are you going to wait for him? Two years? Five? Ten? More? How long are you going to be able to keep doing this? How long will you let life pass you by while you hope and pray for him to wake? God.” She sighs before temporarily burying her head in her hands. “I feel terrible just voicing these things. It feels so disloyal to Garrick.”
“Because it is,” I calmly reply though I’m not angry at Hadley for putting words to some of the thoughts I’ve had on occasion. It’s actually a bit of a relief to hear it. To know it’s normal to think this way.
“Yes,” she readily agrees. “But it needs to be said, and I’m not sorry I said it. You need to start seriously considering your options.” She stares off into space for a few seconds before swinging her gaze to mine. “What do you think he’d want you to do?”
“He’d want me to fight for him, to fight for us, until all hope was lost. Then he’d want me to live my life even if it meant walking away.” It physically pains me to speak those words aloud, but I have thought about what Garrick would expect of me a lot in the time since the accident. I’m pretty confident I know him well enough to know this is what he’d want. He wouldn’t want me unhappy and pining for a lost love. “But this conversation is premature. All hope isn’t lost, and while there is still the potential for him to wake, I won’t abandon him. I don’t want to, and I couldn’t. I know he wouldn’t leave me.”
* * *
Returning to the apartment, we find a familiar dark-haired man sitting on the floor in front of the door with his long denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him.
“You’re early,” I say when Beck notices us, quickly scrambling to his feet, holding a large brown envelope in his hand. He had texted me while we were at the park to ask if he could drop by. He has something for me. He did mention it last night, but in all the commotion, I had forgotten.
“I was actually already here when I texted you,” he admits, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t want to put you on the spot and make you feel like you had to rush back.”
“You’ve been sitting here the entire time?” I ask as Hadley opens the door to our apartment.
“Nope. I checked out the roof terrace. It’s awesome, like you said, and I went for coffee downstairs. I’ve only been sitting here five minutes.”
“Thank you so much for the yummy chocolate,” Hadley says, pushing into our apartment.
“Yes, thanks,” I add. “It was a really sweet gesture, and you have fans for life in Mom and Nana.”
“I’m glad you liked it. It’s my favorite chocolate.”
“I suspect it’s about to become ours too.” I stare at him through a new lens. His dark-brown sweater brings out multiple tones in his eyes, and it emphasizes his broad shoulders and well-developed physique. Dark jeans hug muscular thighs and toned legs, and he’s wearing navy Vans on his feet. “You look different without the suit,” I admit as we traipse after Hadley into the apartment, shutting the door behind us.
“Less YOM?” he quips, and I bark out a laugh.
Hadley looks back at us with slightly wide eyes.
I arch my neck and meet his eyes, grinning. The height difference is more noticeable when I’m not in high heels. “You’ll always be a YOM to me, but yeah, you definitely look less ancient dressed like a normal mortal.” My eyes drift over him quickly. “Casual looks good on you.”
“You too.”
I laugh again. “Puh-lease. This isn’t casual. This is a hot sweaty mess. I’m going to grab a quick shower, but make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Except the chocolate,” Hadley calls out from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Those babies are ours.”
When I return ten minutes later, Hadley has made herself scarce, and Beck is sitting alone at the island unit, nursing a cup of coffee and munching on chocolates.
A laugh bursts from my chest. “She’ll kill you—and ask me to help bury your body—if she finds out you dipped into the forbidden chocolate.”
Beck shrugs. “I’ll buy her more. I’ll keep Hadley regularly supplied so she can’t ever complain.” His boyish grin lights up his face, making him look more youthful.
“That would do the trick,” I agree, walking to the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup. “Want a refill?” I ask, lifting the pot.
“Thanks.”
After filling him up, I peer at the massive open box of chocolates on the counter, wetting my lips as I decide which one to choose.
“Try thechocolat irrésistible pêche,” he says in a delectable French accent, trilling the R’s on his tongue in a slightly guttural fashion. He chuckles. “You should see the look on your face.”
“Do you speak French?” His accent is too polished for someone who only casually knows a few words.
“Oui, mademoiselle.” He chuckles again as he hands me an oval-shaped milk chocolate. “Try it. The peaches they use to make it come from my grandparents’ farm in the South of France.”
