ALoveSoDeep (10 page)

I roll my eyes, but I can’t keep from grinning, because I can tell he means every word. “Fine, but you’re an idiot if you can’t see the similarities.”

“I’m not an idiot.” He leans into me, brushing a kiss across my forehead. “I’m very clever, and forward-thinking, except when it comes to other people we’ve slept with. That just makes me sad, so I’d rather not talk about that any more, if that’s all right.”

“It’s better than all right,” I say, grin slipping. “I wish there hadn’t been anyone else. I wish I’d never been with anyone but you.”

“Me too,” he says, setting the box on the edge of the sidewalk and reaching for me. “I’ve never done it right with anyone else, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” I come into his arms, hooking my wrists behind his neck, marveling all over again that we fit so perfectly together.

“It should mean something…everything,” he says, sending warmth spreading through my chest. “After tonight, I don’t think I could get it up for something like what I had with Kimmy. You are the only woman I ever want to be with.”

“Good.” I stand on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his chin. “Because I’ll be hanging on to you.”

Gabe hugs me until I grunt. “Hang on tight.”

“I plan to.” I seal the words with a kiss, but I don’t really think I’ll have to cling too tightly. Even after all we’ve been through, I’m still stupid enough to think the worst is over, a belief that would soon be proved very, very wrong.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gabe
“I love you more than words can wield the matter,
Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”

-Shakespeare

The next time we make love is slow and sweet. I come into Caitlin with my heart so full it feels like it’s about to burst, and by the time we shatter—within seconds of each other, our cries muffled by a kiss—I am even more hers than I was before.

I am a part of her, and she is a part of me, and I am home.

After, I’m more exhausted than I can remember being since the surgery, but I stay awake as long as I can. I lie with my eyes open in the dark, staring at the flat white paint of the hotel ceiling, memorizing the miracle that is Caitlin asleep on my chest, before I finally drift off around two in the morning.

When the pounding on the door comes three hours later, it feels like I’ve only been out for a few minutes. Caitlin is up and out of bed, tugging on my gray tee shirt, and hurrying across the room before I’ve managed to lift my head from the pillow. She cracks the door, sending a shaft of light piercing through the gloom to fall across the foot of the bed.

I hear an urgent mumble from outside, then Caitlin whispering something soft and reassuring, and then a voice that sounds like Danny’s saying—

“No, now, Caitlin. I’m fucking worried. I need to go.”

I swing out of bed, running a hand down my sleep-slack face as I move to join Caitlin at the door, but she shuts it just before I reach her side, plunging the suite back into semi-darkness.

“What’s wrong?” I draw her into my arms, relishing the fresh-from-bed warmth of her body.

“Danny just got off the phone with his girlfriend in Hawaii,” she says, resting her cheek on my chest with a sigh. “Her parents are getting a divorce, and she’s really upset. He’s saying he wants to fly back right now, but there’s no way I can let him fly alone, not when there’s no one there to meet him at the airport.”

“Isn’t it the middle of the night there?” I ask, trying to calculate the time difference with my brain still only semi-functional.

“Yes,” Caitlin says, yawning. “That’s part of why Danny’s so upset. Sam’s never called him so late. Or early…whatever time it is.” She hugs me tight before pressing a kiss to the center of my bare chest. “I’m going to put on some shorts and see if I can settle him down before he wakes Sherry, and the rest of the kids. Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’ll come help,” I say, running my hands up her hips, underneath my tee shirt to circle her waist. “But I’ll need to reclaim my shirt first.”

She laughs. “No way. It’s soft and comfortable, and it smells like you.”

I smile and pull her in for a kiss, touched that she loves the smell of me as much as I love the smell of her. She is my favorite smell. If I could smell nothing but Caitlin scent for the rest of my life, I would consider myself a lucky man.

“Besides, I think I should handle this alone,” she continues, mumbling the words against my lips before she pulls away from the kiss. “At least at first. Danny likes you a lot, but he isn’t comfortable with having feelings, let alone having feelings around someone he hasn’t seen in a while.”

I nod and reluctantly let her slip from my arms. “All right. But come get me when you need me. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Thanks,” she squeezes my hand. “Be back soon.”

I return to bed, certain I won’t be able to fall back asleep in a lonely room with no Caitlin in it, but I do. I sleep and dream of the morning I woke up from the surgery, when the sun was sifting through the filmy curtains of my hospital room, painting the world in miracle colors, but for some reason all I could feel was fear, sadness, and the overwhelming certainty that something so much more important than a chunk of my brain had been lost.

When I wake, my throat is tight and my jaw clenched so hard the centers of my teeth feel bruised. I shift my head, glancing at the clock, shocked to find it’s already fifteen after eight.

That means that Bea, my former nurse, will be up walking her dog before she leaves for her nine o’clock shift at the hospital. If I call her now, I might catch her before she gets in the car. I reach for my phone on the bedside table and scroll through my contacts as I prop up against the pillows.

Bea gave me her number the day I woke up from the surgery. She’d spent the afternoon talking me down from bouts of panic and rage that frightened my parents and the other nurses, and seemed to understand how devastated I was in a way no one else could. At the end of her shift, she’d pressed her number into my hand and promised that she would always pick up the phone, no matter what time I needed to call.

I never used the number—knowing Bea would be back at nine almost every morning was enough to help me hold it together—but I have to use it now. I need answers, and Bea is the only person at the hospital that I trust to tell me the unvarnished truth.

I tap her number and put the phone to my ear, heart racing.

She picks up before the second ring and answers with a smile in her voice. “Mr. Gabriel! So nice to see your name this morning. How are you doing, sweet pea?”

“Much better, thank you, Bea,” I say, realizing it’s the truth. For the first time since the surgery, I feel nothing but hope for the future…assuming Caitlin and I can put the past to rest. “But I was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” she says, the words followed by the sound of a door closing. “Biscuit and I are just back from our walk. I can chat while I feed him, and get my lunch together.”

“Thanks,” I say, nervous now that I actually have her on the line. There’s a chance that this conversation will prove I was an asshole who abandoned Caitlin without a second thought, but I have to know the truth.

“Don’t be shy,” Bea says, when I’m silent a beat too long. “Never knew you to be shy. Cranky as hell in the morning, and damned fussy about your eggs, but never shy.”

I smile. “I’m not a morning person.”

She snorts. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“But I’m in a good mood this morning. Just looking for some answers, and I thought you might be able to help.”

“Assuming I can, I’m happy to,” she says. “As long as you’re not looking for confidential information on another patient, or wanting to know my dress size.”

“No, nothing like that.” I stand to pace the carpet beside the bed, too anxious to sit still. “I was wondering about when I first came to the clinic, about what kind of…head space I was in.”

Bea clears her throat. “Head space?”

I pace a little faster. “You know, did I seem upbeat and optimistic about the procedure or was I—”

“Hell no,” Bea interrupts. “Pardon my French, sweet pea, but upbeat and optimistic are the last words I’d use to describe you.”

My lips twist. I’m grateful Bea is as frank as I remember. “What words would you use? I’d be grateful to hear them. And don’t bother treading softly. I’m hunting hard truth this morning.”

Bea sighs. “Well…I can’t say I’ve ever met another pre-op like you, Gabe. Anxiety and depression are pretty common in patients getting ready to roll the dice with a surgery that has a better than average chance of ending badly, but you were…something else.”

“Something like…” I prod.

“The day you were rolled in, it was like a dark cloud took up residence in my wing,” Bea says, her Midwestern twang getting stronger the way it always did when she got riled up about something. “I swear, even the fluorescent lights seemed dimmer in your room.”

“But I signed the consent forms for the surgery,” I say. “I saw my signature the day I was released.”

“You did. No one was holding a gun to your head, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way you acted the day your dad brought you to check in.”

“So I wasn’t happy to be there?” I try to keep the relief from my tone, not wanting to bias Bea’s account.

“No, you weren’t happy. You were...” She’s quiet for a moment, before continuing in a soft, sad voice. “Haunted is the word that comes to mind. It was like your spirit had already shriveled up and died, and you were just waiting for your body to follow suit. I honestly didn’t expect you to make it through the surgery, honey. It’s hard enough when people want to live, let alone when they’ve already given up.”

I frown. “You don’t think I wanted to live?”

“Sure didn’t seem like it,” she says. “You did ask me for the hard truth. Let me know if you want me to start sugar coating.”

“No, I don’t want sugar coating, I just…” I shake my head. Surely I would have wanted to live. I knew Caitlin was still out there somewhere, waiting for me…didn’t I?

“Did I ever mention a woman to you, Bea?” I ask. “A girlfriend who was waiting on me back home, someone I cared about?”

“Not that I can remember,” she says, making my stomach knot before she adds, “But you did call out a girl’s name in your sleep that day before the surgery. Yelled it real loud a few times. I think it was…Kathy…Katy? Something like that?”

My bones melt with relief. “Caitlin?”

“Could have been. I’ve never been the best with names,” she says, grunting softly. “There you go, Biscuit. You be a good boy today, and don’t poop on my new rug again. This dog still isn’t going on the puppy pad, Gabriel. Can you believe that? I’m beginning to think you’re right, and I should have gotten a cat, instead.”

“Don’t listen to me, I was never allowed to have a pet, not even a fish,” I say, still distracted, wondering why I was in such a hopeless place. Was it because I assumed the surgery wouldn’t go well, or something more? And I still don’t know how my parents convinced me to have the surgery without at least calling Caitlin first.

They must have had ammunition of some kind. Something serious enough to make me play along, no matter how much I objected to their plans.

“Well, I think that’s a shame,” Bea says. “Every kid should have a pet. I had a collie when I was growing up, sweetest thing in the world, treated me like one of her puppies.”

“My parents aren’t fans of things that drool and smell,” I say with a grim smile. “Not human babies, let alone furry ones.”

Bea makes a disapproving sound. “Well, just between you and me, I’m not the biggest fan of your parents. A little too chilly for my taste. I know you rich people like to keep your feelings to yourselves, but…”

I laugh. “Not me. Not anymore.”

She coos, and I know she’d be pinching my cheek if we were in the same room. “Aw, Gabriel. You’re in love. Good for you, honey. You enjoy it and don’t look back. Those dark cloud days are behind you. It’s going to be clear sailing from here on out, I can just feel it.”

“I hope so, Bea.” I thank her and wish her a wonderful rest of her summer before hanging up and reaching for my shorts from the day before. I pull them on, stuff a room key into my back pocket, and pad barefoot down the hall to the two-bedroom suite at the end of the hall, where Sherry and the kids are staying, past ready to see Caitlin again.

Even a few hours apart feels like too much.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Gabe

I’m about to knock on the door when it opens from the inside, revealing a sleepy looking Sherry in bright orange pajamas that clash with her wild red curls.

“Oh, hey,” she says, laughing. “What’s up? I’m going down for coffee and cinnamon buns. You want anything?”

“Coffee would be great,” I say. “Do you need help carrying everything?”

“No, I can get it,” she says, waving a hand as she eases past me and I reach out to hold the door open. “And Caitlin would probably appreciate your help at drama central. She and Danny are out on the balcony talking again, and Isaac has called five times this morning. I don’t think Caitlin’s answering, but I can tell it’s stressing her out.”

Sherry turns to go, but spins back. “Oh, and the other boys are still asleep, but Emmie was making noises, so you might want to keep an ear out. I’m not sure Caitlin and Danny will be able to hear her out on the balcony. The traffic noise from the street is pretty bad.”