“Yep.”
“Where are we going?”
“To your room.”
She frowned. “How long will I have to stay here?”
“It’s late enough in the day we’ll keep you overnight.”
“Why does the time of day matter?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“That matters?” It was like pulling teeth to get information out of these women. It shouldn’t be this hard.
“We want to make sure you get an all-clear from a physician before we send you back out into the world,” one of them finally explained. “It’s Saturday evening—we don’t actually have that many doctors on call during the weekend.”
Oh. That made some kind of sense. It was Saturday night. That meant she’d been in the hospital most of the day.
“Is my sister still here?”
“She’s in the waiting room. Someone will let her know where to find you.”
Saturday night . . . “When can I go back to work?”
“You should probably stay home for a few days. Do you work in an office?”
“Not exactly.” Bailey discovered the needle embedded in her hand and winced. She was glad she’d missed that part of the festivities. She didn’t usually do too well around shots and IVs. “I’m an interior designer. I have a couple of jobs sites that need my attention this week.”
“Does that involve lifting heavy objects and crawling around on the floor?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then I’d say you might want to take the week off.” The nurse gently squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t want to give yourself a hernia and end up back here for more surgery.”
No, that didn’t sound like something she wanted to do any time soon. She’d just have to hope her bosses would understand.
Finally working up the nerve, Bailey arched her neck to sneak a peek at her belly. She gasped. “Why is my stomach so puffy?”
“They had to inflate it a little to get the laparoscopic tools in there.”
“You inflated my stomach? Like a balloon?”
The nurse chuckled. “Honey, you’re cracking me up.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t just have your appendix out then.” Bailey glared at the ceiling of the elevator car. “Otherwise, you’d be on a laughter embargo, too.”
The nurse snorted and Bailey grunted in disgust. Seriously. This was a hospital. She was all for keeping things light, but she wouldn’t mind being taken a little more seriously. She wanted to ask where the air they’d pumped into her stomach would get out, but she already had a couple of ideas. She didn’t want to open up the floor to more snickers. If they thought her calling her belly a balloon was funny, wait till she brought farting as a medical side effect into the conversation.
The elevator doors slid open, and they turned down a hallway. She took the opportunity to get a better look at the nurses taking her from post-op to her room for the next however many hours. In the excitement of waking up to realize she was not only alive, but feeling pretty damn good about being alive, she hadn’t paid much attention to the team of people helping her.
She’d had help from a whole fleet of nurses since rolling into the hospital. They’d admitted her, held a bucket out for her to puke into, given her the shots she needed to stop the nausea, put her through the MRI, and probably dozens of other things she couldn’t remember. They’d helped her feel okay. She felt bad for being upset about their finding humor in her not-so-lucid conversation.
It couldn’t be easy working at a hospital. Not everyone who came in could be taken care of with a simple appendectomy. It made the occasional wrong-order shipped or bad paint colors she faced on the job seem like nothing.
The gurney slowed, and one of the nurses called out a greeting to someone. Maybe Paige was there already. She turned her head, but the words halted on her lips.
Wilder stepped forward, a bouquet of hydrangeas and a gift bag in one hand, the other lifted in a wave. It wasn’t the flowers and present, or even the way the dark cotton T-shirt stretched across his chest that left her breathless. It was his face. The mixture of joy, fear, relief, and something else she couldn’t quite place. It was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.
“Hey.” He stepped forward. Hesitating a second, and after receiving a nod from one of the nurses, he gently grasped for her untethered hand. A breath escaped his chest with a shudder, and a radiant grin spread across his face, lighting his eyes.
Bailey changed her mind. That was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. She could live in the warmth of that smile forever.
***
Bailey drifted off to sleep again. She kept passing out midsentence. The nurse said it was nothing to worry about, just the last dregs of her anesthesia wearing off.
Wilder still couldn’t quite get over everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. Waverly was pregnant and Bailey was in the hospital. Both situations were a far cry from bad tuna.
The hospital had Bailey hooked up to a drip—something to help her get rehydrated. On the tray next to her bed, Bailey had placed the white ceramic owl he’d brought along with the flowers. The owl she’d fallen for at the consignment shop a few weeks before. He’d picked it up the next day, figuring he’d give it to her at some point. Pops had always said that when someone you cared about wanted something, you should remember.
The bright smile that lit her still glossy post-surgery eyes had been worth it.
“Does everything look like it’s supposed to?” he asked the nurse checking on Bailey’s vitals. He ran a hand over his jaw, scratching at the stubble he hadn’t shaved that morning. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She’ll be able to go home tomorrow.” The nurse checked the levels on the bag dangling next to Bailey’s bed and jotted down a couple of notes. “You know, it could be a while before she wakes up again. It would be okay if you went home to sleep.”
The last nurse had said that, too. It was how he’d persuaded Paige to let Felix take her home for some rest. He’d offered to stay behind. He would’ve stayed either way. He couldn’t quite seem to pull himself away from her side now that he was there.
Why hadn’t she called him? His room was practically right underneath hers. He could have been there to sit up with her overnight. He could have taken her to the hospital. When Paige had described the way Bailey tried to drive to the urgent care on her own before pulling over to call for help, his heart had nearly stopped. He’d shake some sense into Bailey, but he didn’t want to wake her up. She was too damn stubborn sometimes. He wished it wasn’t one of things he loved about her.
He loved a lot about Bailey. But if she hadn’t made it to the hospital in time for them to remove her appendix before it burst, he might not be sitting there now with her hand clasped in his.
“If it’s all the same with you, I think I’ll stay.”
“That’s fine.” She was still eyeing him curiously. She either knew who he was, or she recognized him. He didn’t particularly care if she thought he was a shifty husband running around on his wife. Waverly got to be the center of attention most days, but not this time.
He didn’t care if the nurse sold the story to a tabloid. He had to be there for Bailey.
Still, he should probably text Renee to put her on high alert for any kind of gossip so she could threaten the hospital with a lawsuit for violating HIPAA. Just in case.
The nurse made a few more notes and headed for the door. She hesitated a moment, and said, “Call us if you need anything.”
“We will. Thank you.”
Bailey sighed in her sleep and squeezed his hand reflexively. He stared down into her peaceful face and ran a thumb over her knuckles. That wasn’t quite enough. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the smooth backs of each finger. She murmured something unintelligible, and his mouth curved against her skin. He leaned forward to brush the hair away from her face. Tracing her cheek, he whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
&nb
sp; He meant it. Not just for the night, but for good. Whether or not Bailey liked it, whether or not she thought she was built for monogamy, he wasn’t going anywhere. Period.
“You gave me quite a scare today,” he murmured. “Don’t do it again. Please.”
He might be a healthy man in good shape thanks to his diet and exercise regimen, but he wasn’t sure his heart could take another scare like this. When she hadn’t shown up at the site. When Paige called. The whole time he’d sat outside her room, waiting for a chance to see her with his own eyes. His heart must have stopped a dozen times. He wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but it had. This wasn’t just a good time. No, this thing between them was more.
Her phone rang from the bedside tray. She didn’t stir as a Miranda Lambert tune echoed through the room. When the caller tried a second time, he craned his neck to read the name on the display. “Mama.”
Damn. Bailey had wanted to talk to her mama. She hadn’t wanted her worrying all night.
“Bailey Honey?”
Her only answer was a soft snore.
Before he could think the better of it, he answered. “Hello, Bailey’s phone.”
So much for his promise he’d never be the kind of man who met her mama. It might not be Thanksgiving, but he was making her acquaintance all the same.
***
A hand gently brushed through his hair, stirring Wilder awake. He cracked open an eye and came face-to-face with an IV stand and a plastic bag full of saline—or whatever they were pumping into Bailey. He blinked again, registering the stiffness in his neck. It was no wonder. At some point during the night, he’d released one of the guard rails on the hospital bed so he could lean his elbows against the mattress. He must have fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his folded arms.
That was going to sting.
The fingers toyed with the ends of his hair again, bringing him the rest of the way out of his half-sleep state. On a groan, he pushed himself up to catch Bailey watching him closely.
“Mornin’.” Her voice caught and she frowned. “I sound like I have a cold.”
“It’s probably leftover from the surgery.” He reached for the water bottle the nurse had left for her. “It’s a bit of dehydration, and the tube that was in there during your surgery. You should drink some water if you’re able.”
The tube that had kept Bailey breathing during surgery. The nurse had explained it was all standard procedure when a patient was under general anesthesia. But the sound of it—and the thought that she maybe couldn’t have breathed on her own—had his heart pounding against his ribs.
Bailey took the news more calmly. She nodded and accepted the water. “Thanks.” She captured the straw with her lips and winced. “Ouch.”
“Are they chapped?” The nurse had said that might happen, too. He pulled a jar of Vaseline out of the bag of supplies he’d picked up at the gift shop before Paige left. “Here you go.”
She eyed him curiously and smoothed some of the grease across her lips. “Do you do this often?”
His eyebrows came together. “Do what?”
“Make post-surgical visits.”
The frown eased from his face. “This is actually a first for me. Well, except for when Virginia was born.”
Waverly had undergone a pre-scheduled Cesarean, which had been a bit of a grizzly affair. Still, they’d known what to expect and it had gone as planned. This was different. Though the nurses—and Google—reassured him that people had appendectomies every day, he still didn’t feel comforted.
When Virginia was born, it had been the best day of his life. The afternoon before, when he’d found out Bailey was going into emergency surgery, well, it had given him more than a few bad moments.
He reached for her free hand and brought it to his cheek, more to comfort himself than her. “The nurses here are good. They mentioned that you might be a little uncomfortable when you woke up today.” Which reminded him. “How’s your pain level? They said you should stay on top of the pain for the next couple of days. We can call them if—”
Bailey stilled him before he pushed the call button. “I just took something a little bit ago.”
“But—”
“The nurse came in while you were out.”
He nodded sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I’m glad you did.” She hesitated a moment, cleared her throat, then quickly added, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Of course, Bailey Honey.” He squeezed her hand. “I . . .” He wasn’t sure how to say what he meant or what he felt, so, he asked if she needed anything.
She shook her head. She started to speak, but her phone rang. Without waiting for her to ask, he picked it up and read the screen. “It’s your dad.”
Bailey swore under her breath. “Ignore it, please.”
“But—”
“I’m sure he’s calling because he means well, but . . .” She shrugged. “I just can’t deal with him today.”
“Okay.” He hit ignore and set the phone aside. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. But, maybe in a few minutes we can text him back to say I’m okay, but I’m not up to phone calls.”
It was a compromise for his sake. He could see that fact written plainly in her eyes. She knew he wanted her to give her dad a chance to make amends. Just like he knew she wasn’t ready to take that step. This was like meeting halfway. She should have known he wouldn’t push the issue. Not today. He’d let her have her way about anything right about now.
She was healing. It was the least he could do.
Wanting to lighten the mood, he swallowed hard and forced a grin. “Speaking of phone calls, I took an interesting one last night.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Your mama called. I hope you don’t mind my answering, but Paige was already gone, and I didn’t want her to worry.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “You talked to my mama?”
“Yes. And you’re supposed to call her when you’re up to it.”
“Did she say anything else?”
He nods. “She wants you to come home for dinner one of these weekends. And you’re supposed to bring me along, too.”
Her eyes widened for a second, but then she shook her head and gave an all too casual chuckle. “That’s my mama. She’s a big fan of the show and has no doubt been waiting for her chance to force an introduction. Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of it.”
“No.” He took her hand gently and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be there.”
“You don’t have—”
“I already promised her I would, and I’m not the kind of guy to back out on a promise.”
She slowly met his gaze and studied him like she was seeing him in a new way for the first time. “No, I suppose you aren’t.”
Chapter Nineteen
Wilder was in trouble. He had been for weeks—almost months now. He couldn’t seem to concentrate. Around the time Bailey came back to work, he’d found it harder and harder to let her out of his sight. After one week of resting in the hotel, followed by another week of light-duty at the houses, he’d tried arguing that she should take more time to recover. She’d insisted she was fine and the doctor agreed.
That’s when he’d taken to hovering. More often than not, he’d talk Bailey into carpooling to and from the job sites. With Waverly working half days while she dealt with her still-not-explained bouts of nausea, he and Bailey had to spend even more time together, so it made sense to cut down on traffic. At least, that was the explanation he gave himself and her.
Even though the doctor said it was fine, he wouldn’t let her do any heavy lifting until almost a month had passed. Whenever she got on a ladder, he’d make some excuse about why he had to be the one to drill a hole in the wall to anchor a painting or place a book on the top shelf. He’d kept that kind of behavior up until she’d pulled him aside at one job site and explained quite tersely that he needed to let her do her job or she was going to scream.
Today’s case of distraction started before breakfast. He’d almost made himself—and Bailey by association—late when he hadn’t been able to get out of bed without a pre-work cuddle session. That made him want to kick his own ass.
But it got worse.
When they’d finally arrived at the first house of the day—in separate cars despite his protest—to film a quick update on the midcentury modern, he’d followed Bailey around like a lovesick puppy while she’d briefed Waverly on the latest updates. He could pretend it was his habit to listen to all of her thoughts on their projects, but that wasn’t it. He just liked to hear her talk.
At the second house, they’d had to do the same take four times. He’d kept messing up his lines because he was trying to overhear what Bailey was saying when she talked to Felix off-camera. He could have died at the third house. Or at least he’d come close to it, when he’d nearly fallen into an open septic tank because he’d been distracted by Bailey reading Virginia a story. He hadn’t meant to get caught up in watching the way her face lit with excitement along with the story or the way his daughter cuddled into her arms. He hadn’t meant to overhear Felix when he’d asked Bailey if she really thought she wasn’t built for having a family.
He hadn’t heard her response, though, on account of nearly falling head first into that tank.
By the time they’d reached the fourth and final stop of the day, Renee had pulled him aside to make sure he wasn’t drunk or sick. He’d sworn he was fine, but that wasn’t true. He was stuck on Bailey.
He’d tried making excuses or explanations for why she’d taken such a hold on him, but none of them held up. It was just one of those things.
His series of flubs had cost them most of a work day. They’d called it quits well after the originally scheduled time. He felt bad about keeping everyone around so late, but what could he do? He was a distracted mess.
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