He smiled, closed his eyes, and drew her hand to his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he said.
“Me, too, you.”
A nurse entered the room; Maddie remained standing, Rex’s hand still on hers, his heart beating softly against her palm. The nurse checked the monitors and two tubes snaking into his arms. She asked if Maddie wanted to sit.
“Okay,” she replied, determined to keep her hand where Rex had placed it.
Maddie watched as the nurse went over to a chair and removed a large item from it, which she placed atop a storage cabinet. The item looked like a neck brace. A very large one.
The nurse noticed Maddie staring at it. “We’re weaning him off it now,” she said. “He’s been in it since the accident. Except, of course, during surgery.” She slid the chair to Maddie, who had almost forgotten that Rex had surgery—two surgeries, she was told, though she supposed there could have been more. But, as last night’s majordomo had reminded her, Maddie wasn’t family.
She managed to sit while her hand kept contact with his chest.
The nurse made some entries on her iPad, then looked at Rex.
“PT at eleven thirty,” she said. “They can’t wait to see you. And, by the way, welcome home.”
Rex lifted the hand that was not holding Maddie’s. “Thanks, Ruth Ann. It’s great to be back.”
The nurse waved back and left.
“I was in school with her,” he told Maddie. “All twelve years.” He started to laugh, then abruptly stopped.
“Does it hurt to laugh?” Maddie asked.
“Nah. I’m a tough guy, remember?”
“I don’t care if you’re a total weakling. I only want you here. Well, not here in this bed, but here. Near me.” She didn’t know if it was okay to say that, but the words had tumbled out. “It’s been a long haul for you.”
He smiled. “You’re wearing your bracelet.”
She glanced at her wrist; she smiled back. Then she thought about Annie Sutton. But the idea of Annie being—or not being—there no longer mattered. What did matter was that Rex was there and seemed happy to see Maddie.
Glancing around the room, she asked, “How long do they think you’ll be in here?”
“No idea. Days, hopefully. Weeks, maybe. It depends on if I cooperate.”
She knew he’d dredged up his sense of humor to minimize the drama of his situation. If humor helped healing and recovery, Rex was sure to be raring to go in no time.
“But let’s not talk about me, okay?” he said. “I want to know what’s going on with you. Kevin said the bookshop’s coming along, that your dad’s been a big help, and that you’re opening on Memorial Day weekend. That’s kind of incredible.”
“It sure is. Kevin was right. My dad put all the start-up systems in motion—financial stuff, inventory, even a marketing plan for Rafe to handle. But Dad left yesterday, and he’ll be gone until …” She couldn’t very well say, “Until the baby’s born.” She blinked and reassembled her words. “Until our grand opening.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Kudos to him for helping out.”
“Kevin’s been terrific, too. And his painter, Dave Erikson? You probably know him, too?”
Rex frowned. “I don’t know Dave well, but I’m glad he’s working out. I’ve known his father, Bud, since I was a kid. He’s a miserable old salt. Not one of my favorite people.” He snorted. “Then again, he might say the same about me.”
Shifting on the chair, Maddie knew this wasn’t the conversation she wanted to be having.
“So …” she said slowly, “you feel okay this morning?”
“Better than okay for seeing you. Probably not okay enough to dance, if that’s what you have in mind.”
She closed her eyes a second. “Well, dancing isn’t on my calendar, either. But I do have some other news for you. But if you’re tired or in pain, it can wait ’til later.”
“No, I want to hear all the news that I’ve missed out on. And I want to hear it now. Don’t make me drag it out of you. Wait. Let me guess.” He pressed the fingers of his free hand to his lips and squinted as if pondering. His cinnamon eyes widened. Then he offered her a wide grin—the grin that she had missed so much. “I know!” he said. “You’re pregnant!”
