“Do you think I would have missed this for anything?” she asks, swiping two glasses of champagne off a passing server. “I never say no to an open bar.”
She hands me a flute, and we clink glasses.
“Plus, I’m dying to meet Dr. McDreamy.”
I take a sip of much-needed champagne. “Dr. McDreamy?”
She grins. “It’s how I picture him. Older. Handsome. Brooding.”
She’s not far off. Hayden definitely gives off that Derek Shepherd vibe. Dark hair with flecks of gray. Dark eyes that look like they’ve seen too much and felt even more.
And God help me, I still want him.
As we continue skirting through the hundreds of people in attendance, a woman with kind eyes and a sleek navy suit approaches us.
“Rowan Montgomery?”
“Yes,” I draw out.
She extends her hand toward me. “I’m Marissa from The Organ Network.”
“Oh.” I place my hand in hers. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“I hope you don’t mind me approaching you like a crazed stalker. I recognized you from the photo in my file.”
“Not at all.”
“I just want to say how grateful we are that you’rehere. And we were so moved to hear the donor family wanted to meet in person.”
“Yes,” I manage. “Me, too.”
I try to act excited about the prospect of meeting the donor family after over a year of waiting, but I’m worried how Hayden will react when he learns the truth.
Will it be worse than the day he found out I’d had a transplant to begin with? The look on his face when I told him I was on borrowed time still haunts me. The fear. The anger. The grief.
And now he’ll learn the heart beating inside my chest, the one he’s pressed his palm against, belonged to his wife.
I sway slightly, debating if it’s too late to change my mind when Emily’s fingers tighten around my wrist, grounding me.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “Year of yes.”
I drag in a breath. “Year of yes.”
“Good.” She gives my arm one last squeeze.
“If you’re ready, I’ll make the introductions now.” Marissa smiles gently.
I don’t think I’ll ever truly be ready for this, but I nod anyway, setting my flute down on a nearby table.
Emily stays glued to my side as Marissa leads us through the maze of tables, past laughter and clinking glasses.
And then I see him.
He’s seated at a round table with his mother, Presley, and Jemmy. His suit jacket is off, his white shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms. Presley is coloring on the papertable covering. Jemmy sits in a high chair, cheeks round and pink, clutching what looks like a dinner roll.
My heart stutters so violently I wonder if everyone can hear it, especially when Hayden lifts his head and our eyes meet for the first time in weeks.
I brace myself for shock. For confusion. For the way his features might harden when he realizes the truth.
