Adrien crosses his arms. “We found it. And we put it down.”
“Good.” Doc bobs her head, her silver braid settling over her white lab coat. “I’ve been meaning to call you, Adrien. About that puppy.”
Adrien begins to shift on a pair of loafers so shiny they must be from his post-guivrecloset.
“I’d really love your thoughts on breeds, and—”
“Doc?” I cut her off. “Can you just tell us if anything’s new with Cadence?”
Her cheeks brighten. She gently shoos Alma off the mattress, eyes the machines and scrolls through some information on a tablet she pulls from the foot of the bed. She shines a pen light into Cadence’s eyes and taps something onto the tablet screen. “For now, no change. But, like I said a couple of days ago, she’s breathing on her own, shows no signs of brain damage, and no signs of infection.”
Also, no signs of life.
“She’s a strong girl. She’s going to come back from this.” Doc puts the tablet back into the pocket at the foot of the bed. “I need to go check on a few other patients, and then I’ll head home. If anything of note happens, one of the nurses will contact me immediately, and I will contact you.”
“Thank you, Sylvie,” Adrien says quietly.
She smiles as she walks out, and then the room falls silent except for thebeep-beep-beepof the machines.
I glance at my Daytona: 4:25 pm. Twenty-two minutes to go before Slate Ardoin is no more.
“Can you all give me a bit of privacy with Cadence?” I study the wrinkled plastic IV sack, refusing to look at any of them. Refusing to see the pity in their eyes.
They all reluctantly shuffle out.
I sit on Cadence’s bed, lace my fingers through hers, and say for the hundredth time, “I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t respond.
I set my gaze on the darkening sky, but all I see is my reflection in the glass. I’m pale and drawn and pretty damn pathetic-looking. Grief has pooled into my eyes and dragged the corners of my mouth down.
Grief at losing Cadence. At abandoning Bastian. At leaving this life.
So much for making my own luck.
Cadence’s chest rises and falls quietly. Steadily.
“You know, princess, I’d feel a hell of a lot better about tonight if you’d pop those beautiful eyes of yours open and give me a kiss goodbye.”
Her lids flutter. I want to hope they’ll do more than that, but I know miracles don’t happen.
I part my lips to speak again when her fingers twitch.
The words I was about to utter die on my rushed inhale.
Her eyelids quiver, and then they lift, and I get to look upon the most priceless jewels—Cadence de Morel’s aquamarine eyes.
“Slate?” Her voice is broken, hoarse.
My heart expands so suddenly I think it might injure my ribs. My dying wish came true. Not only is she awake, but she remembers me. I lean over, thread my arms between the wires and tubes and take her face in my hands. “Thank fucking God.”
She raises a hand, knuckles my week-old stubble.
I swallow the rawness that’s gripped my throat. “How I’ve missed you, Mademoiselle de Morel.”
“I would hope so.” Her smile ignites something in me. Something that hurts, because it’s about to burn out.
I lean forward and graze her bruised, pale skin with my lips—her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, her nose—before finishing with a soft kiss on her mouth.
