“That makes you a good husband,” Chase piped up. “Worry.”
“I hate worry,” I grumbled, the muffin suddenly going dry in my throat.
The guys gave me that look — the same look I was sure doctors gave their patients just before they were about to tell them there was nothing they could do. It sucked balls.
The door to my room opened. I straightened a bit, hoping it was the nurse. I was pleasantly surprised when it was Andi who walked in, though she was connected to an IV.
“Hey.” She gave me a small smile and cleared her throat, arching her eyebrows at each of the guys.
“Uh…” Tex scratched his head and stood. “…I’ll just go… to the bathroom.”
“Me too.” Phoenix followed him.
Chase remained.
Andi cleared her throat again.
Chase leveled her with a glare. “What you gonna do? Drop kick my ass?”
I sighed. “Chase, just go. She’ll beat you up later.”
He stood, albeit slowly, and patted me on the leg then walked out of the room.
“How are you?” I blurted.
Andi shrugged. Her face was pale; her smile a bit weak. Her bruising looked like shit around her face, but she was still beautiful to me. Always beautiful.
I patted the bed.
She took a seat, rolling the IV with her. “I need blood transfusions three times a week.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “I’m assuming that’s good, right?”
She looked down at the ground. “No… I mean it sounds good, right? Fresh blood!” Her shoulders sagged. “But typically, in a case like mine it just means the end is—” She swallowed. “—close.”
I reached for her hand. She pulled away. “You don’t have to go through this with me, Sergio. If you want me to leave, if it’s too hard, I would understand.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I swear to you, I’d get it if you want me to just stay at the hospital until the end.”
“Hell no!” I yelled, gripping her hand, pulling her as close as I could without hurting her. “I’m with you until the end, whatever that means for us. I’m here.”
She nodded. A tear fell down her cheek. “They said I can stay here, or we can do hospice, and when I heard the word hospice I just freaked. I mean, I thought I had come to this place where my heart and my head were one. But now? Now it just sucks, Sergio. And I want to stay positive. I want to be happy. For you I want to be those things, but I need at least an hour where you let me cry.”
My heart shattered.
“Please,” she pleaded. “I can be strong the rest of the time. I can be optimistic. I can be happy — because honestly, that’s how I’ve always been, but I think… I think I need to grieve first. I need to grieve over us. I need to grieve over what should have been — what could have been.”
My eyes were so blurred with tears I couldn’t make out her small form. “Come here,” I whispered.
She burst into tears and crawled into me, her tiny body sitting halfway across my body as I held her tightly.
“I love you, you know.” She sobbed into my chest. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“You’re my best friend too.” My voice cracked. I needed to be strong for her; this was not the time for me to cry. I’d do plenty of that, I imagined, in my future. But for now… I was going to be her rock. “I’ve never had one of those before. Does this mean we get to exchange bracelets or something?”
Her sob turned into a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to get one made.”
“You do that.” I squeezed her tight and kissed her head. “Cry as hard and as long as you want, and when you’re done, if you have to cry some more, that’s okay.”
She took my words to heart, sobbing her little heart out, while I hugged her, kissed her face, squeezed her hands, and told myself not to break.
When she quieted down about a half-hour later, I set her back and looked at her tear-stained face.
“I was your punishment.” She sniffled.
“Wrong.” I tilted her chin up. “You were my gift.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Sergio
COMING HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL WAS bittersweet. Damn, I was using that word a lot lately. After spending a week there, I was more than ready to be home — and so was Andi.
She was getting weaker by the day.
Watching someone you love deteriorate before your very eyes was indescribable. I was getting healthier; she was getting sicker. And there was nothing I could do to stop the clock; it seemed each minute I took in a hearty breath I noticed hers was more labored. She’d done three transfusions over the last week, and though she said they’d helped, I knew they’d only done so much.
“Home!” Andi spread out her hands then clung to me to keep from falling. Her balance had been seriously suffering, and I knew it would only get worse.
I had to blink back tears. Soon my house would be silent again — no more baseball bats and pans, no more arguing, yelling, fighting.
I pushed the morose thoughts away just as the doorbell rang.
Frowning, I set Andi down on the stairway and walked over to answer the door.
“Do you have Cheetos?” Bee asked, hands on hips, then pushed past me. “Phoenix promised you’d have Cheetos.” She walked briskly by and gave Andi a high five on the way to the kitchen.
“Sorry.” Phoenix moved into the doorway. “She’s on a Cheetos kick. God help me if this pregnancy has her eating every color of the rainbow. You know how I feel about color,” he joked. Once upon a time he refused to eat anything that wasn’t a leafy green — long story.