Jesus, Stella. Is she a freaking sailor?
I finally get it undone, and creep back out into the hallway, looking both ways before— POP.
I unfurl the note to read the next clue.
Roses are red. Or are they?
I frown, staring at the message. “Or are they” . . . Oh! I picture her face from the other night, the white rose tucked carefully behind her ear. The vase. I head straight for the atrium, sprinting down the steps of the main lobby and into the glass-enclosed room. Pushing open the doors, I see the yellow balloon floating, its string tied tightly to the vase.
I wave to the security guard, who peers at me suspiciously as I rip the balloon off the vase, struggling to catch my breath, my lungs protesting all this running. I grin at him, popping the balloon loudly, and shrugging sheepishly in explanation. “It’s my birthday.”
I grab the message from the inside, opening it up to read:
If only I could hold my breath for this long . . .
I barely finish reading before I spin around to the tropical fish tank, the bright oranges and yellows of the fish jumping out at me as my eyes scan furiously around the outside of the tank for a balloon.
Did I get it wrong?
I think again. The pool.
I hurry out of the room, heading to the gym in Building 1, the last note clutched in my hand as I go. Pushing open the doors to the gym, I move past all the empty exercise equipment and see the door to the pool is promisingly propped open with a chair. Stepping inside, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the yellow balloon floating on top of the water, a few feet from the edge.
Looking to the side, I see the pool cue from Friday.
Sweeping the cue under the balloon, I grab the string and pull the balloon out of the water, noticing a tug at the end as something on the bottom of the pool weighs it down.
Pulling it up, I laugh, recognizing the bottle of Cal Stat from Stella’s video.
I use the pool cue to pop the balloon, sifting through the dead remnants to get to the message inside.
At exactly forty-eight hours from our first date . . .
I flip the note over, frowning, but that’s it. I check my watch. Eight fifty-nine. One more minute until it’s forty-eight hours from our first— My phone chirps.
I swipe to see a picture of Stella, looking cute as hell in a chef’s hat and holding a yellow balloon, a big smile on her face. The message reads: . . . our second date begins!
I frown at the picture, zooming in to see where she could possibly be. Those metal doors are just about everywhere in this hospital. But wait! I slide to the right edge of the picture to see a corner of the milk-shake machine in the cafeteria. I power walk to the elevator, taking it up to the fifth floor and down the hall and across the bridge into Building 2. I hop on another elevator and swing back down to the third floor, where the cafeteria is, catching my breath and smoothing out my hair in the reflection in the brushed-stainless-steel walls, pool cue still in hand.
I casually swing around the corner to see Stella leaning against the door to the cafeteria, a look of pure joy filling her face when she sees me. She’s wearing makeup, her long hair pulled away from her face with a headband.
She looks beautiful.
“I thought you’d never find me.”
I hold out the pool cue, and she takes the other end, pushing open the door and leading me across the dark cafeteria.
“It’s late, I know, but we had to wait until the cafeteria closed.”
I frown, looking around. “We?”
She looks back at me as she stops in front of a pair of frosted-glass doors, her expression unreadable as she punches a code into the keypad. With a click, the doors open, and a bunch of voices yell out, “Surprise!”
My jaw drops. Hope and Jason, but also Stella’s friends, Mya and Camila, just back from Cabo, sit at a completely set table covered in a hospital sheet, white candles sitting on either end of it casting a warm glow on a basket filled with fresh bread and a perfectly chopped salad. There are even medicine cups with red-and-white Creon pills set in front of three seats at the table.
I am completely stunned.
I look from the table to Stella, knocked speechless.
“Happy birthday, Will,” she says, tapping my side gently with the pool cue.
“He’s real!” Camila (or is it Mya?) says, and I laugh as Hope rushes over to me, giving me a big hug.
“We felt so terrible ditching you!” she says.
Jason hugs me too. Patting me on the back. “But your girlfriend over there tracked us down through your Facebook page and convinced us to surprise you.”
Mya and Camila high-five at his word choice, making Stella shoot them a glare before glancing over at me. We share a look. Girlfriend. That has an awfully nice ring to it.
“This is definitely a surprise,” I say, looking around at all of them, so full of appreciation.
Poe appears, wearing a face mask, a scrub cap, and gloves, and swings a pair of tongs in the air. “Hey! Food’s almost ready!”
We sit down, keeping a safe distance between all CFers. Stella at one end, me at the other, and Poe in the middle with Hope and Jason on either side of him. Mya and Camila sit on the opposite side of the table, securing the distance between Stella and me. I smile, looking around the table at everyone as we dig into the salad and the bread. My heart feels so full, it’s disgusting.
I look across the table, smiling at Stella, and mouth a “thank you.” She nods, blushing and looking down.
Girlfriend.
• • •
Poe serves the most beautiful-looking lobster pasta dish I have ever seen, garnished with basil leaves and fresh Parmesan and even truffles! Everyone stares at it in complete awe.
“Where did all this come from?” I ask him as my stomach grumbles noisily.
“Right here!” Poe says, gesturing behind him to the kitchen. “Every hospital has a VIP kitchen where they keep the good stuff for celebrities, politicians.” He shrugs. “You know, the important people.”
He grabs a glass off the table, raising it. “Tonight, birthday boy, it’s for you! Salud!”
Everyone raises their glass. “Salud!”
I look across the table at Stella, winking. “Too bad I’m allergic to shellfish, Poe.”
Poe stops dead midserve and slowly looks over at me. I crack a grin, shaking my head. “Kidding, kidding!”
“I almost threw a lobster at you,” Poe says, laughing.
Everyone laughs with us, and we all dig in. It is by far the best pasta I have ever eaten, and I’ve been to Italy. “Poe!” I say, holding up a forkful. “This is incredible!”
“You’re going to be the best chef in the world one day,” Stella says in agreement, and Poe gives her a big smile, blowing a kiss in her direction.
Pretty soon, we’re all swapping stories. Jason tells a story about how we convinced our entire school to wear nothing but underwear the day before summer vacation two years ago. Which was especially impressive considering we’d get detention if our tie wasn’t straight.
That’s the one thing I don’t miss about school. The uniforms.
Stella starts talking about all the mischief she and Poe used to get into here at the hospital, from trying to steal the milk-shake machine in the cafeteria to holding wheelchair races in the children’s ward.
It sounds like I’m not the only one Barb nearly killed on a regular basis.
“Oh, have I got one for you guys!” Poe says, looking over at Stella. “Halloween that one year?”
She starts cracking up already, her eyes warm as she shakes her head at him.
“We were, what, Stella? Ten?”
Stella nods, taking over the story. “So, we put on sheets and . . .” Poe starts making ghostly OOOOHHH sounds, holding out his arms and floating around the room. “We snuck into the dementia ward.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I start coughing because I’m laughing so hard. I slide my
chair back from the table, waving my hand for them to continue while I catch my breath.
“No!” Jason says. “No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, man,” Poe says, wiping away a tear. “It was absolute pandemonium, but it was by far the best Halloween ever. We got in so much trouble.”
“It wasn’t even our idea!” Stella starts to say. “Abby . . .”
Her voice trails off, and I watch her struggle to speak as I apply some Cal Stat from my travel bottle. She meets my gaze from across the table, and I see how hard it is for her.
“I miss her,” Camila says. Mya nods in agreement, her eyes teary.
“Abby was wild. Free,” Poe says, nodding. “She always said she was going to live wide open because Stella wasn’t able to.”
“And she did,” Stella says. “Until it killed her.”
The room goes completely quiet. I watch as she meets Poe’s gaze, both of them sad but smiling as they share a moment, remembering her.
I wish I could’ve met her.
“But she lived big. A lot bigger than we do,” Poe says, smiling. “She would’ve loved a clandestine party like this one.”
“Yeah,” Stella says finally. “She really would have.”
I hold up my glass. “To Abby,” I say.
“To Abby!” everyone else chimes in, holding up their glasses. Stella looks at me across the table, the look in her hazel eyes by far the best birthday present I could ever get.
CHAPTER 21
STELLA
I lean against the counter, smiling at Poe as he pulls a freshly baked pie out of the oven, totally in his element. He glances up at me, thick eyebrows raised.
“I wanted to see the master at work.”
He winks at me, taking his oven mitts off, and I watch as he confidently twirls his chef’s knife, deftly slicing the pie into eight even pieces with a flourish.
I clap as he grabs a fresh strawberry and squints. He leans over it, cutting here, snipping there, in absolute and total concentration. He holds it up in his gloved hand after only a few seconds, a big smile on his face. The strawberry is completely transformed into an intricate, beautiful rosette, which he puts on the side of the pie.
My jaw drops open. “Poe! That’s incredible.”
He shrugs casually. “I’ve been practicing for next month when Michael and I visit my mom,” he says, giving me a look that clearly is telling me this is no big deal.
So, of course, I shriek in excitement. Finally!
“Yep,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re right, Stella. He loves me. And these past few weeks without him have been harder than I could’ve imagined. I love him.” He’s practically radiating joy. “He’s coming for lunch tomorrow. We’re gonna go for it.”
I almost tackle him with a hug but catch myself before I can close the space between us and do it. I look at the counter, grabbing a kitchen mitt and putting it on so I can reach out and take his hand in mine.
Tears fill my eyes, and I sniff, shaking my head. “Poe. I’m so—”
He rips the kitchen mitt off my hand, smacking it over my head as tears fill his eyes. “Dios mio! Don’t go all soppy on me, Stella! You know I can’t let a girl cry alone.”
“Happy tears, Poe,” I say as we both stand there sniffling. “I’m so happy!” The sound of laughter comes from the other room, and he wipes his eyes.
“Come on! We’re missing all the fun!”
Poe carefully carries out his beautifully made pie with a sea of candles sitting on top of it and we all start to sing. I watch Will smiling in the glow of the candlelight, looking around the table at all of us.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Will. Happy birthday to you!”
And many more. I mouth the words to him. They’ve never had more feeling behind them than right now.
“Sorry it’s a pie!” Poe says, smiling at him. “I’m good, but baking a cake in an hour is definitely out of my league.”
“It’s amazing, Poe. Thank you so much,” Will says, smiling back at him and then eyeing the candles warily. “If I blow them out, then you guys can’t eat it.”
His eyes flick between me and Poe, and we nod solemnly.
Hope leans over, blowing out the candles. She ruffles Will’s hair, smiling at him. “I made a wish for you!”
He smiles back at her, winking. “I hope it involves Stella popping out of a birthday cake in a bikini!”
Everyone laughs and Mya pulls out her phone and a selfie stick, holding her arm out to take a group photo. We crowd together, the best we can while keeping a safe CF distance. The second the camera clicks—BOOM.
The frosted-glass door behind us slams open, all of us jumping in shock and spinning around to see . . . Barb. Uh-oh. She stares at us, and we stare back at her. Everyone too stunned to say anything.
Poe clears his throat. “Hi, Barb. We thought you were off tonight. Can we make you a plate? Stella’s just about to start the entertainment.”
Barb must be doing a double today. I’m sure it’s not an accident she kept that quiet. She knows me. And she knew it was Will’s birthday. Fuck.
She stares at us, speechless, rage overflowing from every feature on her face. She points at the three of us, and my heart goes haywire.
“Up. Now.”
We stand slowly, walking over to her. She shakes her head, looking around at us, words failing her.
“Follow me.” She starts walking out, swinging through the door and back across the cafeteria.
We shoot small waves good-bye in Hope and Jason and Mya and Camila’s direction, before following her out. This is bad. I’ve seen Barb mad or upset on plenty of occasions. But not like this. This is another kind of scary.
We follow her down the hallway. I shoot a worried look over at Will, and he mouths, “It’ll be okay.” But his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You’re all confined to your rooms while we get respiratory cultures,” she says, spinning around to face Will. “And you. You’ll be transferred in the morning.”
“No!” I say, and her eyes swing over to meet mine. “No, Barb, it wasn’t Will’s fault—”
She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “You may be willing to gamble with your lives, but I’m not.”
There’s a thunderous silence, and then Poe laughs. We all look over at him, and he shakes his head, completely unfazed. He meets my eyes and gives me a big smile. “Just like when we were kids—”
“You’re not kids anymore, Poe!” Barb shouts, stopping him midsentence.
“We were careful, Barb,” he says, shaking his head, his voice serious. “We were safe. Just like you taught us to be.” He gestures to the distance we’re keeping from one another even now.
He coughs. A quick, short cough, and then adds, “I’m sorry, Barb. But it was fun.”
She opens her mouth to say something, and then quickly closes it, spinning around to take us the rest of the way to our floor. Nobody says a single word for the rest of the trip. I look over at Will. I want to get closer, but that’s exactly what got us into trouble in the first place.
We all go off to our respective rooms, Poe winking at me and Will before ducking inside. Barb giving me a final disappointed look before my door swings shut.
* * *
As the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, I watch Will, fast asleep on the other side of my laptop screen, his face calm, peaceful. I rub my eyes, sleepy from the long day of planning for his party and getting caught by Barb. We don’t hang up because we know soon he’ll be far away in isolation. No more midnight walks. No more exercise room. No more slipping notes under doors. Nothing.
My eyelids are slowly shutting when an alarm blares over the speaker, jolting me awake.
“Code blue. All available personnel—”
I jump up, running to the door so I can hear the garbled words of the announcement. Oh god. A code blue. Someone’s heart has stopped working. And there aren’t that many of us on th
is floor right now.
As I swing open the door, the announcement is repeated again, clearer now that I’m in the hallway.
“Code blue. All available personnel to room 310. Code blue.”
Room 310.
Poe. Please tell me he just didn’t put the monitor on right again.
I clutch at the wall, the room spinning as a rapid response team pushes a crash cart past me. I see Julie following them into Poe’s room, her shift just starting. Barb’s voice calls out, somewhere in the distance, “He’s not breathing! There’s no pulse. We have to move fast.”
This can’t be happening.
I start to run, stumbling to his room. I see his legs on the floor, his feet falling in two different directions. No. No, no, no.
Barb is covering his body, pushing air into his lungs with a bag valve mask. He isn’t breathing. Poe isn’t breathing.
“Come on, baby, don’t do this to me!” she shouts as another voice yells, “Place defibrillator pads!”
A shape bends over him, cutting open his favorite Colombia soccer jersey, which his mom sent him for his birthday, slapping two pads on his chest. I finally see his face; his eyes are rolled back, his skin blue.
My arms and legs go numb.
“Poe!” I shout, wanting to get to him, wanting him to be okay.
Barb’s eyes meet mine and she shouts, “No! Someone get her away from here.”
“Massive tension pneumothorax. His lung is collapsing. We need an intubation tray!” a voice yells, and I stare at his unmoving chest, trying to will it to lift.
Breathe. He has to breathe.
Bodies are all around me and I try to shove past them. I need to get to him. I need to get to Poe. I struggle against arms and shoulders, trying to push them away.
“Close that door!” Barb says as hands pull me back out into the hallway. I hear her voice one more time, talking to Poe. “Fight, baby! Fight, goddammit!”
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