Evan
I lay in bed,the blankets down at my waist, my arm draped around Bianca, who slept soundly on my chest. I was afraid if I let her go she’d disappear and everything would be back to the way it was before.
She’d fallen asleep in my arms shortly after four this morning, when we’d finally collapsed against one another for the third time. I dozed for about two hours before the reminder of what today was hit me.
I felt her stir against me, and she lifted her head, looking up at me.
“You’re awake? Everything okay?” she asked.
“I’ve been awake for a while,” I said, running my fingers over her arm.
“How long? What time is it?” she asked, lifting her head, trying to find my alarm clock.
“Long enough to allow my brain to think too much.” I chuckled. “Surgery is today.”
“Yeah, I guess we should probably get up,” she said, moving to kick the covers off her, only I stopped her.
“We have time,” I whispered.
“Oh, I know, I just thought…”
“Don’t think. Recovery is four to six months, maybe longer, and well, I just got a taste of you for the first time, and the thought of not being able to have you again for a while is driving me crazy.”
She looked up at me and brought her hand to my cheek. “I will be here when you’re able,” she whispered.
“So I guess that means you don’t regret what happened last night, now that morning is here?”
Shock lined her eyes. “No!” she cried. “Do you?”
“Are you kidding me? Please tell me you are joking.”
She smiled up at me. “Then you better make it up to me before we have to head to the hospital,” she murmured, looking at me with want in her eyes as she climbed on top of me, kissing me.
Beads of sweatlined my forehead as I lay in bed, my shoulder throbbing despite the pain medication Bianca had given me well before dinner. She was sleeping in her room, in one of my T-shirts she’d stolen from my closet because she said she wanted to feel close to me while I recovered.
I’d asked her to monitor my pain levels and only allow me pain meds as needed, and everything had been going fine until tonight. I’d told her I’d been fine when we went to bed and that I really needed nothing more for pain. Most nights she’d check inon me around three, waking me to make sure I was okay, except for tonight. It was a little after four and I hadn’t heard a sound from her room.
I carefully sat up, adjusting the sling, and padded down the hallway. Her bedroom door was open a crack, just like it had been the entire week. I knocked softly.
“Bianca?” I whispered.
I poked my head into her room and saw that she sat up immediately, rubbing her eyes. She reached for her bedside table and turned on the small lamp, bathing the room in warm light.
“Is it your shoulder?” she asked, concern lining her voice.
“No. I mean, yes, but that isn’t why I am here.”
She slid over in her bed. “Come in,” she whispered, patting the empty bed beside her.
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Her room smelled exactly like her, like lavender and vanilla.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No,” I said, sitting down, bringing my legs around, leaning back while she adjusted a couple of pillows behind me for support.
“You should have taken your pain meds,” she said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
I could feel her watching me as I sat there, looking straight ahead.
