I paid for the pizza and drove us back to our apartment. Calla fell asleep in the passenger seat, her head against the window, her breathing slow and even. I glanced at her every few minutes, watching the streetlights paint shadows across her face.
This woman. This impossible, brilliant, infuriating woman… She kept so much of herself locked away that sometimes I felt like I was married to a stranger.
I loved her anyway. God help me, I loved her anyway.
When we got home, I woke her gently, my hand on her shoulder. She stirred, disoriented for a moment, then focused on my face.
"We're home," I said.
She nodded and let me help her out of the car, her body heavy with exhaustion. We walked up to our apartment in silence, my arm around her waist, her head resting against my shoulder. When we got inside, she headed straight for the bathroom to shower off the hospital. I heard the water running, and I sat on the edge of our bed and tried to remember what I'd planned to say to her tonight.
I had prepared a speech about the things I wanted to tell her regarding our marriage and our future. I'd rehearsed it in the car on the way to Lucia's, picking words carefully because Calla didn't respond well to emotion thrown at her without warning.
None of that mattered now. The moment had passed. The night had slipped away from us, consumed by rebar and blood loss and all the chaos that defined our lives.
Calla emerged from the bathroom in an old t-shirt of mine, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders. She looked younger and softer like this, more like the woman I'd married and less like the surgeon who kept the world at arm's length.
She climbed into bed beside me and curled against my chest without a word.
I held her and breathed her in, trying not to think about all the things we weren't saying.
"Happy anniversary," she whispered.
"Happy anniversary."
"I'll do better. I promise,” she murmured so softly I nearly missed it.
I wanted to believe her that things would be different and we would find our way back to the couple who'd danced barefoot at their wedding and promised each other forever.
But promises were easy to make in the dark, when exhaustion stripped away all the defenses.
Keeping them was the hard part.
I kissed her hair and closed my eyes, her heartbeat steady against my chest.
"I know," I said.
She was asleep within minutes, her breathing slow and even, her body warm against mine. While I lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that this was enough.
That we were enough.
That love, on its own, could carry us through.
CHAPTER FIVE
CALLA
PRESENT DAY
I arrivedat the conference room at six fifty-eight. Not early enough to seem eager. Not late enough to draw attention. Just exactly on time, the way I approached everything in my life that required control.
I'd barely slept the night before. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cassian in that cafeteria, laughing with residents, looking settled and content in a life that no longer included me.
Felice had found me at two in the morning, standing in our dark kitchen with a glass of water I wasn't drinking.
"You're spiraling," she'd said.
"I'm hydrating."
