by Maria Monroe
"Then why haven't you answered your phone?" I ask, all my fear and frustration coming out in one angry blast.
"I'm sorry, Lia. I just…I’m sorry. Get back here, OK? I love you."
The cold air takes my breath away. But already I wasn't breathing. I'm lost in the heaven of hearing those words from him. I feel like I’ve waited forever.
"I love you too, Julian." I step off the curb and put my hand out to hail the next cab that comes my way.
There's a car heading toward me, a black town car, and it's getting closer but not slowing down. I need to get out of the way. I need to move. It's like I'm frozen, though, like in a bad dream where you need to run but your legs are heavier than lead. I'm aware of dropping my phone, aware of standing, slack-jawed for a split second more, and then the world goes black.
CHAPTER TEN
My head hurts. And my leg. But it's a soft pain, like someone took the jagged edges of it away leaving me with only a dull throbbing sensation. I want to keep my eyes closed. I want to go back to sleep. But my body feels weirdly ready, like it needs to wake up. I hear a low murmuring somewhere in this room, which I somehow automatically know isn't my room. Fine, I think. Let's do this. What "this" is, exactly, I'm not sure, but I force my heavy eyelids open.
Sunlight dances through pure white partially-closed window blinds, behind a table overflowing with flower arrangements. Plump silvery balloons nudge each other above the rainbow of flowers. If you have to wake up in a hospital, a scene like that makes it much better. And that's where I am. A hospital. I fight down the panic I suddenly feel when I realize that I have no idea what happened. I don't know why I'm here. I'm OK, though, right? I can wiggle my toes—isn't that what they always ask people to do in the movies to make sure they're not paralyzed?—though one of my legs, I notice, is elevated and in a cast. Ok. That's OK. I'm going to be fine.
I raise my right arm. There's an IV in it.
My eyes close, then open again. A hospital bracelet decorates my wrist. "Gorgeous," I whisper, twisting my hand around. OK, so maybe I'm a little bit loopy. Maybe it's not just saline in that IV.
My left arm's next, and I lift it. Good. It works. I spread out my fingers in the air to test them all.
And that's when I see it. A gigantic freaking diamond ring on my finger.
I close my eyes hard, squeezing them shut as tight as I can, and open them again. It's still there. It's like a jewelry commercial, the ring catching the light from the window and shimmering so bright it could start a fire.
I lift my head off the pillow, looking for the person behind the low mumbling I keep hearing. Julian. He's in the corner, facing away from me, talking on his phone. Why is he in jeans? And his hoodie! He's wearing his hoodie. My hoodie.
"Julian." My mouth feels parched, but I manage to whisper his name. Only it's too quiet. There's no way he could hear me.
Somehow, though, he does. He's off the phone instantly and next to me, sitting on the bed at my side. His hair is messy, like he hasn't combed it, like he's been raking his hand through it. His face is creased with worry, mixed now with relief, and his eyes. Those eyes. So green and dark and Julian. I've seen all sorts of emotions in those eyes, but never anything as intense as this. And lots of sexy scruff on his jaw, which I'd reach up to touch except my hand feels so heavy. Must be the giant rock on it.
He opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing. Instead, he takes my hand, my left hand, and cups it between both of his. His lips kiss my fingers, one at a time. Then he puts his head down so our foreheads touch.
We stay like that for a long time.
"Yes," I finally whisper.
"What?"
"Yes."
Confusion fills his eyes, until suddenly realization overtakes it. "The ring?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. There's hope in those two words, but also a taste of cockiness. There he is. My Julian's coming back.
"You know," I say, "that was awfully presumptuous of you."
"Was it?" He smirks, his words filled with challenge. But then his face gets serious once more. "Lia," he says, pushing the ring in gentle circles around my finger, "the thought of losing you killed me. I mean I literally thought I would fucking die when I thought you were hurt."
"Literally?" I tease.
"Literally." He's dead serious. "I need to be with you. I don't want anyone or anything else in this world as much as I want you. From the second I first saw you in film studies class I knew you were the one. I lost you once, for a long time. I will not lose you again."
"So it took me getting hurt for you to realize you want to marry me?" I feel slightly deflated when I think about it, that maybe he wouldn't be asking me if I hadn't gotten injured.
"No. I bought this ring before you were hurt."
Oh my god. "Really?"
"Do I need to show you the receipt?"
I laugh. "No."
"That's where I was." He runs his hand through his hair. "When you were with that asshole Meyer, I was at Tiffany's buying this ring. I forgot my phone at the office, and I was so fucking excited about the ring that I didn't even notice. I should have been there. I'm so sorry."
"It's OK," I whisper. "I'm fine. At least I think I am." I crinkle my forehead because I'm not positive everything still works.
"You're more than fine, Lia." Julian's face is so serious. I've never seen him like this before. He drops to one knee on the hospital room floor so he's at my level, looking straight into my eyes. "I'm sorry I did this backwards. I shouldn't have presumed. Will you marry me, Lia? I'll beg if I need to."
I can't find words. My heart is pounding. Finally I summon the syllables to whisper, "Yes. I'll marry you." My head is swimming; if this is a dream? I don't ever want to wake up. Ever. "Wait," I murmur. "My parents. You should probably meet them first. I'm sure they'll like you…"
"They do. I already got your dad's blessing."
I shake my head, confused.
"They're here," he says. "At the hospital. So are Michelle and Darren. And Vanessa's on her way."
"I want to see them," I say.
"They just left to get coffee. Let me call them." He's up quicker than I can believe, grabbing his phone and turning it on.
"Wait. No. Not yet." I know in a few minutes everyone will be here. And I want to see them all. I want my parents to hug me, my mom crying with happiness, Michelle looking gorgeous and pissed, Darren so handsome and sweet, and Vanessa casual and tall and straight out of the sixties. I love them all so much.
But first, for just a few more minutes, I want to be alone with Julian. My fiance.
"Hey, you stole my sweatshirt," I say. "How'd you get it anyway?"
"I stopped by your place to get some stuff for you."
"But how did you get in?"
"I flirted with your downstairs neighbor."
"Jenna?"
"Yeah. I thought her boyfriend was going to kill me."
I laugh out loud, or as loud as I can in my condition. "You shouldn't mess with Jace."
"Flowers from them." He points at one of the vases. "You've got a lot of people who care about you, Lia."
"I know," I say. "I'm really lucky. How long was I unconscious, anyway?" I ask, realizing suddenly it was at least long enough for Vanessa to arrange a trip here and for people to send flowers.
"Twelve hours." Julian strokes my hair, his fingers so cool against my skin. I close my eyes and let the gentle feeling wash over me. “Twelve long fucking hours.”
"I still want that sweatshirt back," I murmur, growing sleepy.
"You're going to have to fight me for it."
"I can't even stay awake." My words are fading, my thoughts slipping away.
"It's yours, baby. Anything I have. Anything you want." It's the last thing I hear before I fall into deep, deep sleep.
After I see my parents, who are frantic and relieved and have a lot of questions about Julian that I know they're holding back until I'm better, my friends come in.
"Holy shit, Lia," sa
ys Michelle, sinking down into the chair right next to my bed, "you scared the crap out of us!"
"Um, sorry?" I say.
"You should be," she teases.
"You guys look so nice," I say, glancing from her to Darren to Connor, who's standing awkwardly near the door.
"We have to work?" says Michelle. "Not everyone gets to lie around in bed all day long."
"Ha. I'm glad you guys are here." I sniffle, feeling the sudden tingling in my nose that means I'm going to cry. I take a deep breath and rub my eyes with my hands.
"What. The hell. Is that?" Michelle grabs my hand and stares at the ring. "Julian?" she asks me.
I nod.
"No way!" Darren comes closer to look. "Shit, Lia. Congratulations!"
Connor smiles and congratulates me too. I can’t believe how glad I am to see Connor, how even though he’s annoying and weird, I’m happy he’s here.
"How did he propose?" asks Michelle. "What did he say?"
"Well, he put the ring on when I was still unconscious," I mutter.
"He what?" Michelle's red lips fall open in shock.
I nod.
"Wow. That's really presumptuous."
"That's what I said!"
"It's also really hot." She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. Suddenly she glances over her shoulder at Darren and Connor, then leans closer to me to whisper, "I have news too!"
"Tell me," I mouth at her.
"Darren," she whispers.
I want to ask more questions, but Connor and Darren come closer and start talking, and before long fatigue overwhelms me once again. I think I fall asleep in the middle of the three of them gossiping about work.
When I wake up it's late afternoon, and Julian's sitting on the chair next to me with his laptop.
"Time to get to work, Lia," he says.
"Seriously? You're going to make me work from my hospital bed? You're the worst boss ever."
"This is the fucking story of a lifetime, Lia. We're going to finish it together."
"Fine," I grumble, but I'm starting to feel the buzz of excitement. "But you have to do the typing."
We spend the next hour finalizing the story. His police officer friend Mark stops by, and we get official quotes from him. I also have to answer all of his questions for the police report. Julian gets a little pissy about him asking me too many things.
"Down, boy," says Mark. "She can handle this."
Julian growls.
"I can handle it," I agree.
"You're tough," says Mark. "You'll need to be to if you're going to stay with this guy." He gestures with his thumb at Julian. "I gotta tell you the truth. You're lucky to be alive, you know that? The doctors said you were this close to a serious head injury and losing your leg. We got him, though. Randolph Meyer. You know where he was? Hiding in his hotel room closet. Like a little fucking pussy. He and his driver are both behind bars."
"Watch your language," hisses Julian, gesturing at me.
"No, it's OK," I say. "He was being a little fucking pussy."
"You got a good one." Mark stands up and nods at Julian. He smiles at me. "See you at the wedding," he says as he leaves.
"So what are we going to do about work?" I ask Julian when we're alone again.
"Get me a real office with real walls?" he says, his voice low and teasing.
Seriously? I think I just won the world record for getting turned on fastest after being hit by a car.
"We have a lot of options," he says seriously. "And we'll talk about them all while you heal. I'll give you a few days off." He winks at me. "Of course, I still have to worry about Michelle and Darren."
"I think they're dating!" I squeal.
He nods. "They've been holding hands all day. And I caught them making out in the hallway."
"God, it is an incestuous group! That's what Michelle told me when I started. It's going to be like a constant double date at work, huh?" I joke.
Julian groans. "We'll have to do some restructuring."
"For the last time, we are not having mini dream catchers as wedding favors!" Bracelets jangling, Michelle crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips that, like usual, are flawlessly shiny and dark red. It's two months after my accident, and I’m having brunch at Bongo Room with Michelle and Vanessa, who's in town.
"But they're symbolic!" argues Vanessa. "You know. Of dreams finally coming true for them?"
"I couldn't roll my eyes any higher if I tried. Just because you're a happy hippie doesn't mean everyone else has to be."
"Well, a monogrammed sterling silver pen doesn't exactly scream romance," counters Vanessa.
"It's symbolic. Because they're both writers?"
"Well let's just buy a mini composition notebook for everyone, then. It'll be cheaper!"
My two friends glare at each other over their brunch for a few seconds, then both burst out into giggles.
"You two are the worst," I say. "This wedding will never get planned with the two of you working together."
"It would be easier if you had more of an opinion," says Michelle, taking a sip of her coffee.
"It's just one day. Honestly? I kind of want to just elope," I say.
"No!" Michelle and Vanessa exclaim at the same time.
"I won't! But it would be so much easier."
"Yeah, but then you'll miss all the fun of seeing us kill each other." Michelle grins at me.
Vanessa sits back in her chair, holding her water glass, which sparkles in the sun streaming in through the big windows of the restaurant. It's early April, and the spring has been delightful, warm and sunny and hopeful. The fake flower tucked behind her ear makes me smile. "You know," she says, "this wedding is going to be awesome."
"Yeah, if you let me plan it," mutters Michelle, but she's smiling.
"No. I mean Lia and Julian. You guys are so perfect together."
"I think so." I blush.
"It's one of those things," she continues. "That you know are going to happen. That, no matter what, are absolutely and completely inevitable."
She's right. That's exactly how I feel. In some ways, I think I've felt that way since the second I met Julian.
Our wedding is in two months, which is really soon, but Julian and I didn't want to wait. I've been working at another only slightly smaller media firm. The big story that broke about Randolph Meyer gave me a lot of flexibility to find a job anywhere, and my boss, of course, gave me a glowing recommendation.
"You guys ready?" I ask when we're finished with brunch. "I only wish we'd decided to go try on dresses before eating." I just pigged out on scrambled eggs and delicious fried potatoes, and I feel sleepy and happy and full.
"Oh please. You're gorgeous and beautiful!" says Vanessa. "I can't wait to see you in all the different dresses."
"No boho styles. No gypsy sleeves. No fringe." Michelle's voice is as serious as it gets.
"Beads?" asks Vanessa.
"Stop! No!"
"Patchouli perfume, then. For everyone," jokes Vanessa.
"I am seriously going to strangle you." Michelle puts her arm around Vanessa's shoulder and they laugh together as we walk to the car.
As soon as Julian opens his condo door, he pulls me inside quickly, slamming the door and pushing me up against it. His kiss is so sudden and strong that my knees grow weak, and I sigh against his lips.
“Lia,” he murmurs. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to finally—finally—know that you’re mine? That I can kiss you and touch you whenever I want?”
“Mmm,” I reply, melting against him. “But who says I want you kissing and touching me?” I do, of course, but I love playing games with him.
“Lia? I am willing to bet anything,” he says, casually stroking his hand over my breasts and massaging one nipple through my shirt, “that if I were to reach up under that hot-as-hell skirt you’re wearing, I’d find out that your panties are already damp.”
Oh god. He’d win that bet.
“Am I right?”
he asks, his hand running lower so it’s tracing my thigh right along the hem of my skirt, his gentle touch filled with just enough promise to keep me on edge.
“Maybe,” I whisper. “But I bet that if I were to run my hands over the front of your jeans, I’d find that you’re rock hard and ready for me.” I trace my finger up and down his cut abs and look up into his eyes, grinning.
“Goddamn right I’m ready for you,” he growls. “Every time I see you, I’m ready for you.”
Staring into his eyes, I lower my hand, opening it wide over the closed fly of his jeans so his huge cock presses against my palm. Desire surges through me, knowing how big he is, how hard, how capable of satisfying me completely.
His green eyes blaze at my touch, and he utters a low groan as I caress him through his pants. “You know what I want to do, Lia,” he whispers into my ear.
“What?”
“I want to fuck you right here up against the door. Now.” With that, he harshly pushes my skirt up and pulls my panties down, sliding them to my knees. I work them off with my feet, kicking them away as quickly as I can. “Let me see,” he says, one side of his mouth working up in a grin, “if I was right about how bad you want me.” His fingers search between my legs, lingering briefly on my excited clit before finding my wetness, proof that I’m definitely turned on.
“I was right,” he whispers, sinking one finger deep inside me.
“I never said you weren’t,” I manage, but it’s hard to talk when he’s inserting a second finger, then using his thumb to tease my clit.
“I love how your body responds to me,” he says. “The sounds you make. The way you get so wet so fast. It’s hot, Lia. So fucking hot.”
Julian bites my neck and I gasp, then tilt my head back so it rests against the hard wood door behind me as he kisses my shoulder and my upper arm, then moves in front of me to lick my right nipple, then my left.
When he pinches my nipple between his fingers, the sensation sends shocks right straight to my clit, and I moan and writhe against Julian’s body. He smiles, then does it again, pinching my other nipple so the same sensation travels through me, making me move against him again, seeking relief from the desire that’s building so quickly inside me.