Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
We needed that time.
That distance.
Time apart to let the pain settle until true love could stand on its own in the fresh light of a brand-new day.
And now that I’ve found Grant again, I never want another day away from him for the rest of my life.
I’m pretty sure my thoughts are written all over my face and everyone can see them.
Though I’m probably being too self-conscious about it, reading too much into the curious glance of the checkout girl and everyone I pass on the streets as I finish running errands and head back to Grant’s house—home.
It really is.
He’s made it so clear he wants me to stay.
I go to work happily in the kitchen. A couple hours later, there’s a spicy lasagna slow-baking in the oven next to a version I can actually stomach without my gut catching fire.
By the time I blow through the house, tidying up and showering, the lasagna’s ready.
I cut off a huge chunk and drop it into a Tupperware container, leaving the rest in the oven to stay warm, then head out into the icy late afternoon wind to make my way over to the medical center, humming contentedly under my breath.
It’s so strange to break out of this holding pattern I’ve been in for so long.
It’s bizarre to actually feel alive for the first time in ages.
But it also leaves me bursting and bright, feeling cheerful enough to warm me against the cold, even if I’m cursing myself once again for not picking up a coat as winter muscles in, promising the first snow.
Idiot.
That coat always slips my mind every time I’m out shopping.
I’m grateful for the burst of warm air as I step into the lobby. The nursing staff wave me through, familiar with my daily visits by now, including pointedly pretending not to see the container tucked under my arm and shielded with my body.
We share a subtle smile.
They get it.
Back when I was a nurse, I looked the other way on things like that all the time.
When I get to Ros’ room, I’m surprised to find it empty.
Her bed’s still disarrayed and her clothes are in the dresser, so she’s around somewhere, I guess.
Frowning, I walk over to the nurses’ station and offer a smile to the woman behind the computer.
“Hey, Brandy,” I say. “Have you seen Rosalind? I’m just dropping in to keep her company before she makes you pull your hair out.”
Brandy glances up at me, blinks, and does a double take. A huge smile curls her lips.
“Ophelia! I was just about to call you.”
I blink back at her.
Common sense tells me that smile can’t be bad news, but my heart turns into an anxious little knot anyway.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“About Ros,” Brandy says, almost slyly. “You might want to check your mother’s room.”
Oh?
It takes a minute for what she means to really click.
But when it hits me—
I’m barely aware of dropping the lasagna container on the desk like a brick.
I turn so fast I almost fall over.
My lungs are about to burst as I sprint down the hall.
Hope floods me, a fragile thing that could break again so easily, but please, oh please—
I nearly slam into the door of Mom’s room face-first as I go sliding in.
For a frozen second, I’m staring in disbelief.
I stand there with my chest heaving and my eyes filling up with the most wonderful tears.
There she is.
My mother, sitting up in bed, her cheeks flushed with life, her eyes open.
Smiling.
She’s never looked happier as her fingers tangle with Ros’. My sister buries her face in our mom’s shoulder and sobs.
The choked sounds rise over everything inside me right now.
“Mom,” I whisper, the only sound I can make.
Then it’s my turn.
I start bawling like a baby as my mother looks up, meets my eyes, and beams her too-bright smile right at me.
Her free arm stretches toward me.
I practically throw myself into the tangle of my family until we’re just a mess of happy hugs, grateful tears, sniffles, and incoherent words.
Holy hell, it’s not a dream!
She’s still weak and frail and recovering, sure, but she’s alive.
She’s conscious.
She’s here.
And so is Ros.
I never let either of them go.
Thank God I didn’t.
“I was so scared,” I rasp, burying my face in Mom’s shoulder. “I was so scared for you, Mama.”
“I know you were, baby,” she says, kissing my hair. “I know you both were. But I can’t go anywhere just yet. I know when my girls need me and I had to stay to take care of you.”
That’s enough to trigger a new cascade of tears.
We’re like that for a while, just the three of us and enough sweet relief bursting out of us to make a statue cry.
By the time the emotional bubble breaks, I’m worn out. Ros looks just as tired as she sits up, wiping at her eyes with a frayed laugh.