IT HAD BEEN two days since I stormed out of Lailah’s room. It had been forty-eight hours since I saw her face or heard her voice. Hell, even our flirty text conversations had ceased.
I’d spent two entire days of work avoiding her. I would make a wide berth around her doorway, and I would take my lunch breaks alone in the corner of the cafeteria while I’d sit and wonder what she was doing. Even as I’d done this—making every attempt to avoid confrontation, to avoid the conversation I knew we’d have to have—I continued with my plan. I’d been taking my meetings that I’d scheduled with various hospital officials to secure proper approvals. I’d gone over lists with Grace, Marcus, and even Lailah’s mom, who would eye me with the usual wary indifference.
I was continuing with my biggest plan of all because, deep down, I knew Lailah was right.
The other night, I had stood there, looking my future straight in the face, as I stared into the eyes of the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
And she wasn’t Megan.
Lailah hadn’t said those words to hurt or anger me. She’d said them to try to help me heal. Instead of recognizing that when I should have, I’d lashed out in anger, defending a ghost and a memory.
Megan would have been ashamed by my actions.
Megan would never have wanted me to continue mourning her like I had been.
Yet, here I was, three years later, still stuck in the same place I had been the day we arrived in that ambulance. Maybe I was supposed to do that though, so I could end up here.
I didn’t know. I couldn’t even begin to understand how the world worked.
I needed to let go. I needed to say good-bye to Megan, the woman I’d lost, and to the life I’d once had. And I needed to forgive myself for the mistakes I’d made that led me here.
She might have spent her years cooped up in a hospital room, but the wisdom Lailah possessed was more than most people gained in a lifetime.
I had been punishing myself, living in a purgatory for my sins, and it was finally time to break free.
“You want to what?” Margaret asked once again.
“I’d like to purchase a plaque for the bench on the second floor. Don’t play coy with me. I know you know what bench I’m talking about,” I said, leaning back into the tall wingback chair that seemed to be my home lately.
I’d dropped by her office early this morning after having had about three hours of sleep since I clocked out. But I couldn’t wait any longer. Each hour ticking by marked how long I hadn’t seen Lailah, and the passing time was starting to weigh on me.
Does she think I left for good? Is she okay? Does she hate me?
God, I’m an ass.
But I needed to do this before I could step foot in that room again.
I needed to return whole—or at least, on my way. Aside from flying to Chicago and visiting where Megan was buried, this was the only way I could work it out in my head. I wanted a way to say good-bye—a remembrance, something concrete and real that I could remember.
I’d skipped her funeral service. Too swallowed up by grief and regret, I couldn’t bring myself to face our families and friends. So, I never got the chance to say good-bye, to have that sacred moment to wish for more, a better afterlife, for the loved one who had left me.
I needed that now.
“I’m not really the person to talk to about that type of thing, Jude,” she started.
“Oh, come on, Margaret. Let’s cut the shit, shall we?”
Her mouth fell open.
“I know you pulled strings and got the bench put there. No one else in this hospital, besides you and Dr. Marcus, gives two shits about me. And you’re the only one who knows about me and that hallway. It’s a little fishy to me that a bench would suddenly appear in that exact spot,” I pressed, staring her down.
“They call and check on you,” she blurted out.
Stunned silent for a moment, I gathered my thoughts, trying to figure out what she’d meant. “Who? Who calls to check on me?”
“Her parents.”
“Megan’s parents check on me?”
She nodded. “I don’t know all the details, but a few months after she passed, they called here, looking for you. I don’t know the relationship between your families, but when the call finally got to me, it sounded like her parents hadn’t gotten a lot of information from yours, so they were starting at square one.”
Considering my father was still keeping up the scheme that I was antisocial and too busy to do anything but work, I could see my family not running the risk of giving any information regarding my whereabouts out to anyone, even Megan’s parents. Besides a family scandal, the idea of our family business breaking apart could send the shareholders into turmoil. Making them believe I was just quirky and fearful of people after my personal tragedy was better than instigating any inkling of panic.
“I told them you worked here, which surprised them.”
“I bet,” I said.
“They asked how you were after…”
“Go on,” I urged.
“Well, I’ve been giving them updates ever since,” she said quietly, knowing she’d probably broken a dozen laws in giving out an employee’s personal information. “They don’t call often, just once or twice a year to check in. They love you, Jude.”
Even after everything I put them through?
I looked at her for a minute or two, putting it all together—the special care, the job offer, barely a second glance when I’d asked to leave my last name off my badge.
“You’ve known who I was this entire time,” I said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.
“Yes. I recognized you the second I saw your last name on that employment application.”
“Yet, you’ve never said anything?”
“We should all be able to grieve privately, Jude. I wanted that for you. I just didn’t realize it would take so long,” she confessed.
“I think I’m almost done.”
She gave a faint smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m glad,” was all she said.
“And the bench?” I asked, wondering how it played into all of this.
“Megan’s father requested it. When I told him where you would go after your shifts, he wanted you to have a place to sit. He knew he couldn’t change what you were doing, but he wanted to at least make it better for you.”
“I’d like a plaque if you could swing it,” I finally said, my voice heavy with emotions.
“I’ll make some phone calls.”
“And, Margaret?” I rose from the chair. “When they call next time, could you tell them that I’m finally happy again? And that I love them, too?”
She smiled warmly. “I’d be happy to.”
Leaving Margaret to make her calls, I headed up to cardiology, passing the eyes of every nurse and staff member who had taken a particularly high interest in my social life over the last few weeks. Becoming involved with a patient was front-page gossip—or at least, that was what Grace had told me.
I really couldn’t give a fuck.
The hallway seemed endless, and my arms became restless as they waited to finally swing that door open, so I could see Lailah again.
God, I’ve been a fool.
Hasn’t my past shown me anything?
Life is precious. It’s there one minute and gone the next. It shouldn’t be wasted.
I’d lost two precious days being angry with Lailah for something I’d already known but been too frightened to admit.
Finally making it to her door, I grabbed the knob and knocked. I heard the soft, sweet sound of her voice ushering me in, and I entered before the quiet click of the door sounded behind me.
She was standing, and her back was turned. She was going through a pile of books her mother had probably brought over. Her hand smoothed over the cover of one of the paperbacks, tracing the raised letters of the title.
When she looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with me, she froze. “Jude,” she said, her eyes round and wide with surprise.
I took a step forward but stopped.
What do I say first? I’m sorry? I’m an ass? You were right?
I wanted to say them all at the same time, but I didn’t know where to begin.
Finally, I stalked forward, removing the air and space separating us. Weaving my fingers through her hair, I kissed her. She gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders before sliding around my neck.
“I’m sorry, Lailah. I’m so sorry,” I said between our frenzied kisses.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
“You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.”
Grabbing her around her waist, I lifted her, and she instantly responded, wrapping her legs around me. I leaned her against the wall. Sliding my hands down around her ass, I supported her weight to keep the strain off of her.
It also wasn’t a bad position for me. I might be choosing the good-guy route to wait until I could have her in a proper bed without wheels, but by no means was I a saint.
With her legs spread and her body pressed firmly against me, I wanted nothing more than to strip her down and forget every reason I had for waiting. Even with my raging hard-on and the heat of her core doing funny things to my brain, my conscience still remembered how much I wanted to love her for the first time in my own bed.
But that didn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun until then.
“Lift up your shirt,” I whispered against her ear.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she pulled the bottom of her shirt up halfway, exposing her smooth stomach.
“Higher.”
She did, lifting it up above her chest.
“No bra today,” I said as my eyes skimmed over her beautiful body.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“You should not expect company every day,” I replied with a wicked grin.
With my hands still firmly holding her up, I bent forward, moving my tongue over that perfectly shaped pink bud until it pebbled and hardened.
“Gorgeous,” I remarked before closing my mouth over her tight nipple.
Her head went back, and a long moan followed as her hands raked through my hair. I nipped, sucked, and kissed until she was writhing and moving against me so hard that I was about to blow.
“Jesus, Lailah, I’m going to lose it.”
A blush crept up her face as she looked at me. “You are?”
I gave her a dumbfounded look. “You’re practically dry-humping me while nearly topless. I’m about to die.”
Her head fell to my shoulder, and laughter soon followed. “You’re the one who put us in this position,” she reminded me.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, letting her legs slide to the floor. “I tend to do all sorts of stupid things when you’re around.”
Her mischievous eyes met mine. “I like when you do stupid things.”
“I can tell,” I replied with a grin as I stepped back from the wall. Air. I need air.
“Why don’t you come sit with me, and we can catch up?”
I nodded, and we took our positions on the bed, but this time, I sat up rather than snuggling down next to her. I could still taste her on my lips and feel her touch on my skin. If we had too much contact now, we’d be right where we had been three minutes ago. Right now, I wasn’t sure I would be able to stop again.
I’d taken things farther with Lailah in this room than I’d ever planned on, and every step we took over the line was one foot closer to taking away my promise to her.
“How have you been?” she asked, crossing her legs in front of her, Indian style.
“Miserable. Lonely. Spent a lot of time thinking about Megan and my past…and the life I was supposed to have with her. You were right, Lailah. I was punishing myself. I’d always told myself that I stayed because it was the only way to be close to her, but she’s not here. She hasn’t been here in three years.”
Lailah took my hand.
I continued, “I have though. I’ve been here for three years, lost and alone, holding on to a life I was never going to have. Then, you appeared and showed me what it was like to live. I remember looking into this room that first night and seeing you eating pudding off your finger. It was so simple, so human. I wanted that. You make me feel human again.”
“I don’t ever want you to think I’m trying to replace her,” she said. “For the last two days, I’ve been so afraid that you wouldn’t come back, and if you did, you would resent me.”
“I should have never stayed away,” I said, tugging on our joined hands.
She unfolded her legs and crawled onto my lap, and I let my arms fall around her.
“I know you aren’t trying to replace her. You’re too good-natured to even try. She was my first love, and my heart broke when I lost her. That was the end of my story,” I said, cupping her chin and tilting it upward. “Until you. My heart is mending because of you.”
When our lips met this time, our kiss was tender and slow. It was nothing like the passionate reunion from earlier. I savored each moment, pouring in every emotion and feeling I wasn’t yet ready to say. I knew now that until I forgave myself and said good-bye to my ghosts and the memories haunting me, I’d never be able to fully move ahead.
Lailah and I spent the afternoon making up for lost time. We talked and laughed over the selection of books Lailah’s mom had brought her.
“The Baby-Sitter’s Club?” I asked, holding up the worn paperback with the title written on blocks.
“My scatterbrained mom sometimes just picks up whatever she sees first at the library.”
“Make a list. I’ll pick up whatever you want.”
“Really?” she asked with a mixture of excitement and a little embarrassment.
“Why the blushing?” I asked, skimming my fingers across her cheeks.
She bit her lip before speaking. “There are some books I’ve been dying to get but they are a bit…”
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just get me some crime novels.”
“Are these books you’re not asking for sexy books perhaps?” I asked, giving her a lopsided grin.
“Maybe.”
“Can we read those parts together?”
Her cheeks flared up from that comment, causing me to laugh. I got my book list. It was a long one.
“Hey, do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, flopping down beside her on the bed.
“Oh my gosh, that reminds me!” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“Have you seen the news?” Her expression was now much more serious.
“No, I usually avoid it.”
“You should probably turn on CNN or pull up their website,” she suggested, reaching down to pull out her laptop.
That thing was reaching geriatric years, but with the hospital Wi-Fi, it was passable for Internet use. I plucked it out of her hands and flipped it open.
“Why? What should I be looking for?” I asked, typing CNN into the search engine.
“You’ll see it.”
I clicked on the website, and as soon as the site loaded, I saw several headlines—a tropical storm, something about a celebrity—and then my eyes stopped.
“‘Cavanaugh Dynasty Headed for Disaster’?” I announced, repeating the headline to myself.
I looked up at Lailah, and she nodded.
“It’s all over the news,” she said.
I clicked on the link to bring up the full article. A full-color picture of my brother was included, showing him walking through the doors of Cavanaugh Investments. He looked older, and his eyes were downcast as he tried to avoid the cameras and attention.
My eyes quickly skimmed the words, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. The phrases poor business decisions, family in turmoil, and investors not happy all popped out at me.
“My father’s and brother’s little scheme to cover up my whereabouts has finally leaked as well as their lack of business skills. How my father managed not to run the business into the ground sooner has never failed to astound me. It was my grandfather’s vision, not his.” I shook my head, shutting the laptop and setting it aside.
“Are you going to do anything?” she asked softly.
“No. They made the mess, so they can clean it up,” I answered. “My place is here now.”