My tongue feels like it’s been shrink-wrapped. “Water,” I croak again.
She pours from a carafe, guiding the cup to my lips like I’m a geriatric toddler. I sip, almost gag, and spill half of it down my gown. For some reason, this feels like the worst indignity yet.
I try to summon a memory.
Something about an intersection, and then a roar, a flash of gold fender, a blonde head behind the wheel. Mira. Her Mercedes. The pieces click one by one, each one worse than the last.
There are too many hands on me. Strangers’ hands. Someone is shining a light in my eye and someone else is asking about my legs and I can’t look at any of them because something on the wall has stopped me in my tracks.
Children’s drawings, taped up in a crooked row. Crayon suns. Lopsided hearts. At the bottom of each one, in a child’s careful block letters: WE LOVE YOU. And underneath, in handwriting I recognize: Colton and Livy.
The monitor spikes. A nurse says something sharp to someone I can’t see.
I keep looking at the wall next to me. There’s a mosaic of Post-its, every color, overlapping at the edges. One for every day.
The monitor climbs again as I read all of them.
Each note is dated, time-stamped down to the minute. Some of them are smudged, like he wrote them with wet hands. Some have little hearts, drawn as though he’s embarrassed by them but can’t help himself. I read each one, methodically. It’s the only thing I have the strength for while the doctors and nurses do whatever they are doing. Each is an update, a breadcrumb, a pulse of hope.
By the eighth note, my eyes are watering, and I’m not sure if it’s because my eyes are dry or because I’ve never, ever had anyone do something this desperately loving for me. It’s almost too much. I want to reach through time, grab Colton by his ridiculous, stubborn face, and shake him for making me feel so much.
I read on.
The urge to see him is a physical thing now. I want to tell him I read every word, that I never thought I’d want someone like him, and now I can’t imagine waking up alone.
As if summoned, the door swings open with all the delicacy of a SWAT raid. And Colton stands in the doorway, arms full of coffee cups and a muffin tray. He stops when he sees me, eyes wide, and for a second, he looks terrified. He sets the food down on the nearest flat surface and just… stands there, like he can’t quite trust what he’s seeing.
I want to say something profound. Maybe, “Hey, tough guy,” or “Took you long enough.” But I can’t. I just manage a hoarse, “Hi.”
He’s across the room in two strides but refuses to touch me right away, as if he’s afraid I’ll break. “I can’t believe it. You are awake.”
I nod, which is all I can do, and suddenly his big bear hands are cradling my face, careful not to mess up the IVs or the EKG leads.
His eyes are red-rimmed and frantic, and I realize—maybe for the first time—that this giant, terrifying man is just as breakable as I am. And shit, my eyes burn too.
“Don’t cry,” he says, and it’s so useless, so perfectly him, that I laugh and cry at the same time.
“Fuck,Solnyshko. I love you so much. Do you hear me?” he says and I nod. “I am so sorry for what I said. Or what I didn’t say. I love you. I don’t want to spend a second without you. I love all of you. Your imperfections, your flaws, your freckles, your laughter, your heartbeat, your scent, your hobbies, your…” he clears his throat and a tear runs down his cheek. “Your everything. Do you hear me? It was always you. Even in high school. I was just an idiot who couldn’t place one thought right. I loved you when you sent me your little insulting letters. I loved you when I saw you in court. I loved you as my lawyer, as myfake wife, as my real wife. And I will never ever let you go again. I will now tell you every day that I love you because there won’t be a day where you even doubt it ever again for one single beat of your heart.”
I’m still crying. It’s like all I can do.
I cry because everything hurts.
I cry because his ex wanted to kill me.
I cry because he loves me.
Truly loves me.
“Colton, I love you too,” I whisper, even though I want to shout it at him.
He looks at me like I’ve handed him the Stanley Cup.
“Will you stay married to me forever, Jenna?” he says with tears in his eyes.
“Yes. Yes to forever.”
So, this is how love truly feels.
