I nod, and place the remote on my stomach, my eyes finding Paul’s. He gives me a worried smile and turns to the nurse. “How do her vitals look?”
“Good. We’re not out of danger yet but we are moving in the right direction. We’ll monitor her closely tonight.” She pats my arm and I attempt a smile, the pain already less, my mind taking advantage of the increased capacity and envisioning all of the disasters that could have occurred during my sleep.
“How long was I out?” It hurts to talk, my throat raw, my lungs moaning over the expelled air.
She glances at her watch. “About twelve hours. This is the first time you’ve been coherent enough to talk.” That’s a good sign.”
Twelve hours. Cities burn to the ground in less time than that. I wait for her to leave and watch Paul sit carefully on the edge of my bed. When the door clicks behind her I wet my lips.
“What happened? With Stewart?” I fight the question, hating the words as they leave my mouth. But I need to know. I need to know what tomorrow will bring. Sleep will come soon enough and wash over the reality.
“He had work to do.” He glances at my face. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”
I can see his pain through his eyes and it strikes me suddenly that I’ve never seen him this way. Worried. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I have never felt more helpless. I want to hold him, to push that darkness from his eyes. I want to go to Stewart, to make him look me in my eyes and to ask him what he is thinking, where his mind is taking him. But I would probably be disappointed in the answer. His mind has probably already left this problem and is attacking ones that are in his control. In the office, on the phone, on his computer at home. I lean back and close my eyes.
I wake once to voices, arguing softly, and open my eyes enough to see a nurse, speaking heatedly to Paul. The second time I awaken, the room is dark. I turn my head and see Paul, in a chair, his head to the side. I let my eyes adjust to the room, the pain present enough for me to reach for the remote, press the button on its front.
I am grateful for the silence. For the ability to think without being observed.
I have lived in this fairytale for so long, it is hard to imagine an alternative. But this feels like the time. The time to pick a path, abandon the other and move forward. I look at the man asleep next to me, the room’s shadows highlighting the strong features, his large frame uncomfortably sprawled over the hospital’s narrow recliner. It is no surprise that he is here, that he won the battle against the nurse and sleeps beside me. Paul has always been here for me. He is my rock and loves me unconditionally, no matter what kind of crazy quasi-relationship we have had for the last two years.
I glance up, at the ceiling, letting out a painful breath and thinking of Stewart. Also, not a surprise that he is absent. Our entire relationship has been squeezed in between stretches of absence. His passion for work is one of the things I love about him, but it has always been a competing piece—the fourth person in this triangle. And I’ve always known where I stood in that order—behind that passion, peering over its shoulder and waving my hands for attention.
At this point, this juncture, the decision should be easy. Paul is right here, just waiting for a shot at my entire heart. He has been waiting for it ever since that day under the pier. I was just too distracted by Stewart, emotionally tied to him, to see Paul in the role he should have been in.
I reach out for him, then clear my throat, coughing slightly, and Paul instantly moves, waking, his hand swinging out and hitting a lamp. He shoots to his feet and stands, still, his body tense, listening in the darkness. I softly say his name and he steps forward, gently reaching out until his hands find my body. “Are you okay Madd? Do you need the nurse?”
“I’m fine.” I whisper. “I just... Paul—I just wanted to say that I love you.”
He stills, his breath stopping in the quiet room. “I love you, too, baby.” He says gruffly, kneeling beside my bed and holding my hand. “God, I love you so much.”
“Forever and always,” I whisper.
He surprises me by crawling into the bed, the narrow width barely accommodating us both. He moves cords and lines with heartbreaking tenderness, turning me on my side and wrapping his arm around me. I relax, my lids heavy. At this moment in time, there is not a more perfect place I could imagine. Not another man on Earth who I want holding me.
“Forever and always.” Paul whispers.
And, in that brief moment, I feel guilt over Stewart and my heart’s abandonment of him. Then, pure happiness washes over me and Stewart is forgotten.
DANA
I wake two hours early, rolling out of bed with a purpose. It is the first day in almost a decade that I have my boys back. Thanks, in no small part, to Madison. The same Madison who I, in a brief moment of creativity, dart-boarded last week after too many margaritas. But that was before. Before she almost died, and Stewart called me, and I got to hug Paul and look into both of their eyes. Before I found out that she wasn’t ruining their hearts through a shredder for her personal enjoyment. I almost, just a teeny bit, feel some affection for the woman.
I dress for work, pulling on a Jones New York suit and sling-backs, pull my hair into a low bun and leave my contacts in their case, sticking with glasses and minimal makeup, and jog out the door at 5:45 AM, two bananas and an apple in my purse, a giant mug of coffee in my hand.
Sixteen minutes later, I step through the hospital doors, and smile brightly at the receptionist. Three minutes later, I am escorted to her room.
“She will still be asleep,” the silver-haired woman explained in a hushed voice that was practically screaming. “But you can sit in there until she wakes up. Her notes say she was coherent and speaking late last night.”
Late last night. After Stewart left, his phone already to his ear. She must have woken after I left at nine. Hopefully Paul was here. By the look on his face, he had had no intentions of going anywhere. I gently press on the door and tiptoe inside.
My heart physically swoons when I see them. A tall frame hugging her small body, crammed in a narrow space that should be uncomfortable but looks perfect. His head nestled in her hair, his arm across her body. Her eyes closed, a small smile on her face, her feet tucked back between his legs. I hesitate in the doorway, then step backward, pulling the door gently closed.
I make my way back to the receptionist area and veer right, following the path to the cafeteria, pulling my cell from my pocket as I walk. I dial Stewart’s cell.
“Hey.”
“Hey. I’m at the hospital. Just wanted to check and see if you were coming by.”
He sighs, heavy into the phone. “I can’t now. I have...” there is the rustle of papers and I hear him speaking to someone else. Then he is back. “Is she stable?”
“Yes.” I can’t stop the smile from entering my voice. “She was speaking last night. Coherent. They haven’t woken her yet this morning.”
He exhales loudly and all background noise stops for a moment. “That is so great, Dana. That... God, I can’t describe how that makes me feel. Have you told Paul?”
“He stayed the night.” I wait to see his reaction before I say anything more, the silence long before he finally speaks.
“That’s good. I’m glad someone was there when she woke up. Do you know... if she asked for me?”
“I don’t know. But today... she needs to know the connection between you two. She won’t understand otherwise.”
His voice is suddenly abrupt. “I know. Just... handle it. However you think best. Let her know... if she asks... that I love her.”