‘Please don’t do that again. Not until I brush my teeth. And I warn you that that might not be in the foreseeable future.’
“Ah.” He held up his index finger then dug through the bedside drawer and pulled out a plastic stick with a sponge on the end. He dipped it in a cup of water, pressed most of the water from it and handed it to me.
‘That’s it? Water?’
“Just hold your horses,” he chided, rustling through the bags. A second later, he produced a pack of breath strips. “Put this on your tongue, and then swab your mouth. It’s not the best, but it’ll do until you’re not in so much pain.”
‘You’re the bomb.’ Gently opening my mouth, I placed the breath strip on my tongue. Just swirling it around my mouth hurt. ‘This sucks.’
I wasn’t getting anywhere with the breath strip, seeing that I had no saliva to dissolve it, so I moved on to the sponge. It helped a bit, but offered little satisfaction. I ended up swabbing most of the breath strip out. ‘They took my tongue ring out too.’
“I have it. You can get it repierced.”
‘After this, I don’t know if I want anything sharp near me again.’ Stifling a frown, I shifted my weight. My ass was asleep and my back was stiff. ‘Where is Levy?’
“My dad has him. They’re driving back on the bus. Emily is with them too. She didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to go home anyhow.”
‘What about the tour?’
“Tour is done for now. We’ll reschedule the last three shows.”
‘There’s not much you can do here. There’s no point in you sitting around.’ He might cope better if he were busy. I would. ‘I’ll be sleeping most of the time or in therapy. You won’t be missing anything.’
“I’m not going anywhere, Cooper, so just get it out of your head.”
We had a five second stare off before I surrendered. ‘How bad do I look?’
Tate grimaced, looked away.
‘That bad?’
“Truthfully, yes. You look pretty damn bad, and I’ve seen you hurt before. Too many times, in fact.”
‘Well, I’ve escaped death once again. Now take a picture so I can see for myself.’
“Are you serious?”
‘I’m vain, remember?’
Sliding his phone from his pocket, he lifted it, centered the frame and snapped a photograph. With obvious reservations, he passed me the phone. Wow…well, I can’t say he didn’t warn me. I had a gauze turtleneck, several bruises on my cheek and jaw, a tube running from my nose, and another larger tube protruding my neck, just above my collarbone.
Frowning, I passed Tate back his phone. ‘You can delete that now.’ It could go to pixel heaven, where it would never be seen again by the eyes of man. Good riddance.
“I’ve had a plastic surgeon come in. He closed the lacerations. He said with the right care, your scars shouldn’t be bad. He prescribed some creams and ointments. You’ll need to stay out of the sun, and use sunblock when it’s unavoidable.”
That was the outside. I could’ve cared less about the scars. I cared about what was happening on the inside, like my vocal cords, but I bit my tongue. He had meant well.
‘What’s in the bags?’
“Clothes and some other stuff to keep you from getting bored.” From the bag, he pulled a bright red negligee lined with marabou trim. He tucked this under his arm while he pulled out a matching red teddy and heeled slippers.
‘What the hell is that?’
Straightening his back, he blinked. “What?”
‘That!’ I pointed at the travesty under his arm. ‘That is not exactly appropriate hospital attire, Tate!’
“Well, there’s this adage that if you look good, you’ll feel good.”
‘I can’t walk around in that!’
“I had a feeling you’d say that, so I bought you this one too.” From the same bag, he pulled a pair of multicolored, polka dot, footed-pajamas. They were hideous and fleece and my feet would sweat terribly in them. He looked proud as a peacock holding them up.
‘You’re kidding.’ I had to stifle a smile.
“Yeah, I am. I thought it would make you laugh.” He tossed them and the sexy red number to the floor then pulled two packs of boxers and a handful of tees from another bag.
‘I am laughing—on the inside.’
“For real, I bought you these. You’re always wearing mine.”
‘That’s because you’ve been in them.’
“I’ll wear them first if it makes you happy.”
‘You make me happy.’
Tate looked at me suspiciously, his hands on his hips. “What kind of drugs did they give you?”
‘Shut up. What else did you buy?’
His hand disappeared into another bag. He pulled out an iPad Mini. “This is all your own. Everything you need’s installed. I set you up with iBooks, iTunes, Sirius, Netflix. There’s even a voice app on there. It’s better than the one you’re using. Has twenty different languages and fifty different voices to choose from.”
‘Gimmie gimmie—I’m going to be British!’ Tate handed me the iPad. I fiddled with the lid of the box, but since I wasn’t fully sitting and I was reluctant to move my head, I was having a difficult time. Tate finally lost his patience and took the thing back. He popped off the lid and pulled the tablet from the box. I snatched it from his hand and was delighted to find he had it powered and waiting. The voice app was idling.
‘It’s perfect,’ I said in a deliciously accented, yet robotic voice. ‘Look how it fits in my hands.’ With the split keyboard, my thumbs could tap away without losing balance of the device and having it waggle dangerously toward my face. I was typing recumbent, after all.
Tate must’ve noticed my awkward position. He pressed the button on my side rail and raised the bed. The slow incline had my head swimming with the redistribution of blood flow.
“It’s momma bear size,” he told me. “This one—” he waggled the large iPad at me “—is too big. It’s a broken nose waiting to happen. Your phone is too small. You hit the wrong keys all the time. Even your auto-correct can’t keep up with you. Last week, you sent me a text that said you wanted to fuck my beans out. It’s true the beans play their part—”
I had to place my hand over my trachea to keep it from rupturing. ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘Don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much.’
“I’m sorry. Should I show you what else I bought?”
‘More?’
“Lots more.” Reaching into the second bag, he extracted a bottle of dry shampoo. “I was told this was the best.” Oribe Dry Texturing Spray. It wasn’t exactly a dry shampoo, but I read that it worked wonders. “I figured until you can wash your hair…”
Next, he presented a tube of Clé de Peau Beauté Lip Gloss, a small black and white striped tote full of makeup and skin cleansers from Sephora, a pack of Juicy Couture hair ties, a big teddy bear so soft I couldn’t stop petting him, a few pairs of thick, chenille socks, and a Memory Foam mattress pad.
The guy was a keeper. I wasn’t impressed with the price tags on the things he bought, as much as the items in general. Really. Think about it. It wasn’t often men knew what would make their spouse feel truly human again when they were feeling the farthest from it.
‘You’re insane and thoughtful. I can’t believe you bought all of this.’
“Only the best for the mother of my children.”
Wrong choice of words.
My smile faded. I felt as if my lungs collapsed in my chest. Tears blurred my vision. Damn, I had been keeping it together, but the end of my rope had just unraveled.
“Cooper, what’s wrong?”
I managed to tap out a short, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then wiped feverishly at the tears in my eyes.
“Sorry for what, babe?” Solicitously, he sat on the edge of the bed, brushed a lock of hair behind my ear.
‘The baby.’
“The baby’s fine. What about the baby?”
‘The baby’s fine?�
�� This was news to me, good news, but I really didn’t understand.
“Perfect. Healthy. Why would you think otherwise?”
‘I asked the nurse about the baby, and she said that you wanted to be the one to tell me, and then she ran out of the room.’
“And you thought…Oh, Jesus.” Tate pushed a hand through his hair, made it stand up on end. “God, Coop, I’m sorry. I was wondering why you hadn’t asked about it. It’s so unlike you to be unconcerned.”
Disconcerted though relieved, I rubbed my eyes, hiding beneath my lids. ‘I’m so stupid.’ I felt like an idiot.
“You’re not stupid, Coop. You were on sedatives and opioids.”
‘You let them give me opioids?’ I was pregnant for God’s sake. I couldn’t take opioids.
“Rightfully.”
‘Tate!’
“Don’t make me take that back,” Tate warned, gesturing to the tablet in my hands. “There’s no reason for you to suffer needlessly, Cooper. The risk of side effects is low.”
After a brief standoff, I admitted defeat. I was in no place to argue. He would do as he pleased, because in his kind and beautiful head, he was doing what was best for me, and admittedly, fighting with him was exhausting. I didn’t have the energy, mentally or physically.
Tate’s eyes glinted, disappeared behind his smile.
‘I know I can’t argue with you, but you don’t have to gloat.’
“I’m not gloating! God, Cooper, you’re hurt and in pain… It’s just… Can I give you your last gift now?”
‘I’d say no but you’d do it anyhow.’ I ceded; I never said I wouldn’t sulk. Besides, he was gloating.
Tate paid me no mind and reached into the bag one last time. He pulled out two black onesies. Each had an ultrasound image silkscreened to the front. The one in his left hand read, “I’m the one on the right.” It pointed to one of two distinct fetuses. The one in his left hand read, “I’m the one on the left.” It pointed to the other of the two small fetuses.
My thumbs hammered frantically at the keys. ‘This is a joke, right?’
“No.” Tate smiled proudly. “They’re both healthy. Heartbeats are strong.”
‘Really?’
Tate’s smile widened. “Really.”
‘Oh. My. God.’ Tears once again sprung from my eyes. ‘If you’re lying, I’m going to kick your ass.’
“No lie,” he promised, sitting on the edge of the bed again. He picked up my hand, caressed my knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “This is good, right?”
I gave the tiniest nod. We hadn’t planned to get pregnant, let alone twins, but I’d take it. Lord all mighty, I thought I’d lost the baby. Now, I felt doubly blessed. Twins…I was going to have twins!
“Then stop crying before I get kicked out of here. Besides, all of that,” he gestured to the tears and red nose, “isn’t allowed. Doctor’s orders.”
True that. I couldn’t blow my nose, sniffle, clear my throat or cough. I was breaking all the rules by crying. Tate handed me a few tissues from the bed stand. I used them to wipe my face. They were otherwise useless. I balled them up in my hand, suppressing the desire to put them to further use. It was worse than trying not to scratch that itch after painting your nails.
Lifting the onesie for a better look, I mentally shook my head. ‘Twins.’
“It explains why you’ve been so tired.”
‘Exhausted. Have you told anyone?’
“No, babe, being the mother and all, I thought you should know first.” He lifted my hand, brushed his lips across my knuckles. “We’ll tell everyone together.”
He would tell everyone; I would be listening. Stealing my hand back, unintentionally, I fiddled with the tablet.
“You’ll talk again, Cooper. I promise.”
‘I didn’t miscarry. I won’t push my luck.’
“This isn’t a negotiation. You don’t have to choose one over the other.”
He was perceptive, but he was wrong. I knew the way providence worked. I’d been making bargains all my life. I compromised my college degree to have Grant out of my life. God didn’t own up on that one. I said I’d give up men if the morning sickness would go away. God didn’t own up on that one either. I even offered my uterus as long as Levy came out healthy and alive. I figured God gifted me doubly for that one since he missed the other two. Everything in life was a compromise. Those few hadn’t been my first, and they certainly hadn’t been my last.
“Look at me,” Tate demanded. At the tone of his voice, my gaze lifted, met his eyes. “This is my fault. If there’s a price to pay, it’s mine.”
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
“I slept with her, Cooper. Not recently, but I have, and more than once.”
‘I really don’t want to know about your past sex capades, thank you. And, honestly, it’s irrelevant. You’re no more responsible for her actions than I am for Grant’s. It’s not your fault.’
“If it’s not my fault, then why is the price yours to pay?”
‘Ok, so my line of thinking is a little warped! It’s just something I do, like a mental tally I keep between me and God.’
“How is that working out for you?”
‘I have Levy and now I have you.’ I grasped Tate’s large hand, watched his eyes soften.
“I really don’t deserve you,” he swore. “I meant it when I said that you were out of my league.”
‘You have a poor self-image.’
“She—Amanda—has been arrested, Cooper. For attempted murder. But convicting her won’t be that easy. Her family has money. She’ll have good lawyers. They’ll try to get it reduced to aggravated assault. We’ll have to testify. I’ll have to testify. My past will be put on view. They’ll try to discredit me by tearing me apart. It could get ugly.”
‘I’m not running.’
“You might want to. I’ve used women pretty badly.”
‘I’m sure they’re all affronted by the fact.’ Closing my eyes, I reclined the bed. I was beginning to ache a little bit everywhere, though I’d never admit it.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not ashamed.” Standing, Tate smoothed the sheets and pulled the blanket over me. “I wouldn’t even remember her name if the police didn’t remind me.”
‘I’m heartbroken over that.’
“Cooper.”
‘I can be civil about the women in your past until they shank me, Tate. If you didn’t say her name again, I’d—’
“We can talk about this later,” Tate spoke over my British, monotone voice. “You’re tired and in pain. You need to sleep.”
‘Only tired. Not in pain.’
“Liar.” Reaching for the pain pump, he pushed the button, delivered a dose of morphine into my veins.
‘I can’t believe you just did that! I feel betrayed, by the way, in case you can’t hear it in my voice.’
“The babies will be fine.”
‘Judas.’
As with the last time, the effects were swift. My head swam. My vision wavered in and out of focus. Tate tried to take the tablet from me, but I held fast.
“You need to sleep, Coop. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
‘But I just woke up.’
Weirdly, I began to see this network of illuminations, sort of like the veins of light when the country’s lit up at night. But if I looked closely enough, at each juncture, stood a ghostly figure. If I disrupted one vein, I could follow the reverberations to those around them.
“What’re you doing, babe?” Tate asked, sounding faintly amused. “I don’t know what you’re reaching for, but there’s nothing there.”
‘You should see what I’m seeing, Tate. My consciousness is expanding exponentially.’
“It’s the drugs. You’re hallucinating.”
‘See how bad for me they are?’
“Go to sleep, Coop.”
‘Did it ever cross your mind that maybe this is just a small part of the bigger picture?’
Sighing, Tate sat down, aware
that I wasn’t giving in. “How so?”
‘Life. It’s just a big complicated web of related events.’
“Oh?”
‘Roll your pants up; shits about to get deep.’
“Oh boy.”
‘I’m just saying that maybe you’ve objectified women because you subconsciously held some deep-seated resentment over your mother for leaving.’
“I’m pretty sure I just liked sex a lot.”
‘Come on, Tate, admit it. Don’t you think my injuries are ironic considering her occupation?’
“She could’ve easily been an obstetrician, a speech therapist, a plastic surgeon or one of a million nurses that have cared for you so far. It’s all a coincidence.”
‘The babies are healthy,’ I reminded him. ‘I didn’t need an obstetrician, and the nurse will come into play when the time is right. Now focus and open your eyes. I’m trying to tell you something important here. Our paths crossed for a reason.’ I could see that now. It was so very clear.
“So that I could make amends with my mother.”
‘Yes, but that’s only a small part of the picture, it’s a ripple in the web. My God, Tate, you should see it. We’re all tied together. Carter, Em, Mattie, Jake, Shane, even your mom and dad, we’ve forged their destinies. It’s like a butterfly effect caused by our love…’
“You’re high as a kite, Cooper. Try and get some sleep.”
‘Your father’s right. Sometimes you need a slap in the face.’ That’s when I dropped the tablet, which landed on the much-detested trach tube protruding from my throat.
Chapter 23
“Cooper, would you relax?” Tate pleaded, pressing a hand on my knee to keep it from bouncing impatiently. “You’re giving me angina. I think I actually need an antacid.”
‘I’ve been walking laps around this place for three weeks,’ I objected. ‘I just think it’s ridiculous that I have to ride in a wheelchair now that I’m leaving.’
“Hospital rules,” he explained. “If you fall on the way out…”
‘It’ll be my own ineptitude.’
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