Lily waited.
“He didn’t…” I stopped, hating how small the words made me feel. “He didn’t move.”
“Oh, honey.”
I laughed once.
Wrong sound.
Sharp.
“Don’t honey me. I’m not a tragic widow. I’m not even the fiancée. I’m the nurse who saved his life and then had an emotional breakdown in his ICU room like an idiot.”
“You are not an idiot.”
“I told him I loved him.”
“He might not have heard.”
“That might be worse.”
Lily winced.
I wiped under my eyes even though I was not crying.
Yet.
“I saw the ring again,” I said. “It’s pretty.”
“Of course it is.”
“Don’t sound so offended.”
“I’m offended by the entire situation.”
“She was there, Lily. She stayed. She waited. She cried in the family room while I was in the OR with him. She has loved him through whatever version of half-life he gave her, and she still showed up.”
“So did you.”
“I’m not his fiancée.”
“No,” Lily said softly. “You’re the woman he called for.”
The words went through me like a match.
Bright.
Dangerous.
I shook my head. “Don’t.”
“It’s true.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.”
“No.” I pushed away from the shelf. “It doesn’t. Not if he wakes up and chooses her. Not if he keeps his hand in hers. Not if he decides guilt and promises matter more than whatever happened between us.”
