feeble attempt to cover my nudity. Good-bye seemed inadequate. So did I hope it goes well .
I’m sorry might work better. Or even I understand , because I did, at least a little.
Instead, I said, “I’ll come with you.” And that, surprisingly, felt exactly right.
He paused, his arms halfway into his jacket sleeves. “Why would you do that?”
I grabbed my top and shrugged it on. “Because nobody should go to the hospital solo. Because I’m here. Because I have nothing else planned for tonight.”
Dylan slid his arms all the way into his sleeves and grabbed his bag. “Come on, then.”
~*~
We made an odd couple, with Dylan all business in his charcoal gray suit and me all sexual suggestiveness in my leather bustier and diaphanous skirt. The clerk in the hospital lobby didn’t seem to notice, but the nurse behind the counter gave me a sidelong look when Dylan announced himself as Persephone Krause’s husband. I nearly told her I was the slutty mistress but stopped myself in time.
When we got to the room, it was empty. Not even a bed. And certainly no ex-wife.
“Maybe she’s stepped out.”
Dylan gave me a look.
“She’s going to be okay. She’s not in ICU or surgery, or the doctor would have said. She didn’t tell you it was critical, right? It’ll be okay.”
I never went to the hospital after my father’s heart attack. I was too young. But the image in my head was this: A sterile room, with monitors and tubes and mysterious machines. An empty room, no patient, the darkness outside like a tangible thing.
Beside me, Dylan huffed a sigh and grabbed me, kissing me so fiercely my chin felt bruised and my lips smashed. So fiercely I couldn’t breathe. And even though it wasn’t a remotely sexual kiss, I felt a flame lick up my insides. I was alive. He was alive. And here we were, kissing in a hospital room out of a creepy indie drama. It felt like it meant something.
“Dylan! What are you doing here? And who is she?”
We broke apart as a frail blonde waif of a woman was wheeled into the room on a gurney bed. She had a cast on one leg and a big, dark bruise on her cheek. As the orderlies positioned the bed properly in the room, she raised herself up on her elbows, wincing. Her wrists were painfully thin. It didn’t look like they could support her. “Who are you?”
“Samantha Lilly. I work with your husband—I mean, ex-husband.” I started to proffer my hand, then rethought it. She must hurt all over. “If you want me to go…”
She gave Dylan a reproachful look. “You didn’t need to bring protection from me. I’m hardly going to attack you.” She lay back down against the pillows as the orderlies straightened the pole and adjusted buttons around her, then withdrew. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m your next of kin on the form. The doctor called me.”
“You shouldn’t have come. I’m fine.” She coughed, which clearly hurt. “Dammit.” She thumbed a switch that led to her IV drip, which presumably gave her a dose of some heavy-duty painkiller. “My throat is dry. All that poking and prodding and nobody offered me a drink. I missed lunch too. I went straight from the bike shop to the open road.”
I poured water into a paper cup and handed it to her. She drank the water, then crumpled the cup in her fist.
Dylan frowned at her. “You bought the motorcycle today?”
She nodded. “A real beauty. You should have heard the engine purr. Like a big cat. A tiger or something.”
“And you weren’t wearing a helmet?”
“I ditched it.” She grinned. “The feeling of the wind in my hair as I flew down the FDR was amazing . You should try it.”
He closed his eyes. Whether summoning patience or emotionally wrought, it was hard to know. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
For the first time, something like reality seemed to creep into her awareness. “I know. The EMTs told me.” She blinked hard. “But
I’m sorry might work better. Or even I understand , because I did, at least a little.
Instead, I said, “I’ll come with you.” And that, surprisingly, felt exactly right.
He paused, his arms halfway into his jacket sleeves. “Why would you do that?”
I grabbed my top and shrugged it on. “Because nobody should go to the hospital solo. Because I’m here. Because I have nothing else planned for tonight.”
Dylan slid his arms all the way into his sleeves and grabbed his bag. “Come on, then.”
~*~
We made an odd couple, with Dylan all business in his charcoal gray suit and me all sexual suggestiveness in my leather bustier and diaphanous skirt. The clerk in the hospital lobby didn’t seem to notice, but the nurse behind the counter gave me a sidelong look when Dylan announced himself as Persephone Krause’s husband. I nearly told her I was the slutty mistress but stopped myself in time.
When we got to the room, it was empty. Not even a bed. And certainly no ex-wife.
“Maybe she’s stepped out.”
Dylan gave me a look.
“She’s going to be okay. She’s not in ICU or surgery, or the doctor would have said. She didn’t tell you it was critical, right? It’ll be okay.”
I never went to the hospital after my father’s heart attack. I was too young. But the image in my head was this: A sterile room, with monitors and tubes and mysterious machines. An empty room, no patient, the darkness outside like a tangible thing.
Beside me, Dylan huffed a sigh and grabbed me, kissing me so fiercely my chin felt bruised and my lips smashed. So fiercely I couldn’t breathe. And even though it wasn’t a remotely sexual kiss, I felt a flame lick up my insides. I was alive. He was alive. And here we were, kissing in a hospital room out of a creepy indie drama. It felt like it meant something.
“Dylan! What are you doing here? And who is she?”
We broke apart as a frail blonde waif of a woman was wheeled into the room on a gurney bed. She had a cast on one leg and a big, dark bruise on her cheek. As the orderlies positioned the bed properly in the room, she raised herself up on her elbows, wincing. Her wrists were painfully thin. It didn’t look like they could support her. “Who are you?”
“Samantha Lilly. I work with your husband—I mean, ex-husband.” I started to proffer my hand, then rethought it. She must hurt all over. “If you want me to go…”
She gave Dylan a reproachful look. “You didn’t need to bring protection from me. I’m hardly going to attack you.” She lay back down against the pillows as the orderlies straightened the pole and adjusted buttons around her, then withdrew. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m your next of kin on the form. The doctor called me.”
“You shouldn’t have come. I’m fine.” She coughed, which clearly hurt. “Dammit.” She thumbed a switch that led to her IV drip, which presumably gave her a dose of some heavy-duty painkiller. “My throat is dry. All that poking and prodding and nobody offered me a drink. I missed lunch too. I went straight from the bike shop to the open road.”
I poured water into a paper cup and handed it to her. She drank the water, then crumpled the cup in her fist.
Dylan frowned at her. “You bought the motorcycle today?”
She nodded. “A real beauty. You should have heard the engine purr. Like a big cat. A tiger or something.”
“And you weren’t wearing a helmet?”
“I ditched it.” She grinned. “The feeling of the wind in my hair as I flew down the FDR was amazing . You should try it.”
He closed his eyes. Whether summoning patience or emotionally wrought, it was hard to know. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
For the first time, something like reality seemed to creep into her awareness. “I know. The EMTs told me.” She blinked hard. “But
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