Page 68 of Promised Vows

I’d been a horrible patient, and I knew it. I wasn’t trying to be; it simply came out of me. When I said I hated hospitals, I hadn’t expressed the depths of my disdain. It was easy for her to believe that I would be disobeying my doctor’s orders to rest.

My brother hung his cigarette between his lips at the corner. “If you need anything, call me.”

“Okay, be careful out there.”

“Anything for you.” He winked and threw another glance in my direction. “Later.” The door clicked shut.

Crossing the room, Anna heaved a sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

When she reached me, I pulled her down onto the bed. “I have a few ideas.”

She bent forward and kissed me. “Behave or I’ll slip them enough money to keep you here another two weeks.”

What was left of my humor was gone. “That’s not funny.”

Her head tilted as she shot me a playful smile. “Yes, it is.” The flirty floral knee-length dress she wore complemented her playfulness and showed off her shapely legs.

I’m waking up every day a little more in love with her than I was the day before. I’d shared something so deep and personal that I couldn’t even believe I’d done it. The words were out of my mouth, and once they were said, the rest poured out.

Then she’d kissed me, but it wasn’t a sweet, tentative peck. It was a full-on collision. Our lips had met with an urgency crackling between us. That fierce demand—the absolute possession—had left me breathless.

I hadn’t expected the declaration of love. She’d said it and I was sure I was hearing things. She’d said it twice. I smiled at the memory. She’d wanted me to know that it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. Three words whispered like a hurried prayer. There was devotion in her voice and in those words.

“Can we please talk about when we’re getting married?” I asked. It came out more like a grumble than a question.

“When your body has healed.” She grinned. “I want to go on a honeymoon, not go to rehab.”

She pulled a hard, painful laugh from me. “Message received.”

“Six to eight weeks. It depends on the severity of the injuries.” She grinned. “Jason will be able to walk me down the aisle by then, I think. Otherwise, I want to wait until he’s better.”

As beaten up as I was, Jason was worse. His esophagus was bruised when their father stepped on his throat. He also had lasting damage to his left shoulder. He’d lost twenty-five percent of his use. It’d never be the same even with physical therapy. I’d seen him shuffling down the hall with Cora a few times.

I brought Anna’s hand to my lips and kissed her wrist. “Do you want the wedding we’d planned, or do you want something different?” I knew what I wanted.

“When I was planning the last one, I wasn’t planning a wedding for us.” Her eyes found mine. “I want this one to be for us.”

“That’s what I was hoping. Friends and family. Maybe we can keep the ceremony small and have a huge reception.”

Anna nodded. “I like that.”

I brushed her hair over her shoulder. “How are you doing?” She knew what I was asking. This wasn’t about her general mood. This was about her father.

Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “I’m okay. I mean, it’s weird. He’s not alive. I want to care. I feel like I should, and then I feel guilty that I don’t. He can’t hurt me or Jason or anyone else ever again. Basically, I’m a mixed bag. It depends on the hour.”

“Did you set up a time to meet with your counselor?”

“Yeah, I see her a week from today. Honestly, though, even as up and down as I am, I think I’m okay. I didn’t shoot him. He shot himself. I just happened to be standing really close when he did it.”

Nodding, I pulled her closer. “I know. I’m here if you need to talk.”

She snuggled against me, a contented sigh pouring from her. “I love you.”

“Eight weeks. I can maybe handle eight weeks, but not a day longer.”

Her cheeks slid up and down against my shirt. “Okay.”

I dropped a kiss atop her head. “I love you, sweetheart.”

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