“Hey,” Evie said, dropping her bag by the door.
Maggie looked up, and the relief on her face was almost painful to see. “Hey.”
Evie crossed to her immediately, no hesitation, no distance. She climbed into Maggie’s lap, straddling her, and kissed her like they’d been apart for weeks instead of hours.
Maggie’s hands came up to her waist, pulling her closer, kissing her back with something close to desperation.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Maggie rested her forehead against Evie’s.
“I hated that,” Maggie said. “Every second of it.”
“I know,” Evie said. “Me too.”
“It felt unbearable. Seeing you in that elevator and not being able to touch you?—”
“I know.”
“This is going to be?—”
“I know,” Evie said again, cupping Maggie’s face. “But we’re here now. And for the next twelve hours, you’re mine. No hospital. No distance. Just us.”
Maggie’s eyes closed. “I don’t know if I can do this for six months. Six fucking months.”
“Yes, you can,” Evie said firmly. “Because the alternative is not having this at all. And that’s not an option. The damage is done. We’re already in love.”
Maggie opened her eyes, searching Evie’s face. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Evie said. “Are you?”
“Yes,” Maggie said without hesitation. “God, yes.”
“Then we do the hard thing,” Evie said. “We survive the days at the hospital, and we come home to each other at night. And in six months, we get to have both.”
Maggie nodded slowly, something settling in her expression. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Evie echoed.
They ordered Thai food and ate on the couch, legs tangled together, talking about everything except the hospital. It felt like a small rebellion—claiming this space as theirs, separate from the professional distance they’d have to maintain everywhere else.
Later, in bed, Maggie held her close and whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making this bearable.”
Evie pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Always.”
They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, choosing closeness over the distance the world was trying to force between them.
The pager went off in the middle of the night.
Evie bolted awake, fumbling for it on the nightstand. The number was from Oakridge—the palliative care floor.
Her heart sank.
Daisy.
“I have to go,” she said, already climbing out of bed.
