Page 160 of When Hearts Surrender

“Okay, I need to check on the patient. May I please ask you to step outside? Even though we appreciate your generous donation for a new research wing,” a slim woman wearing glasses and a doctor’s coat says to Dad. “You’re all drawing attention. Not the good kind.”

Linus chuckles and walks toward the door, motioning for everyone to follow him. “Come on, kids. Let the doctor do her work.”

“I’m staying, is that okay?” Belle asks, her fingers intertwining with mine.

The doctor nods. “That’s fine.”

She introduces herself as Dr. Jones, the primary intensivist in charge of my care, and runs a series of tests to check my pupils, motor function, and breathing. She asks me if I remember my name, age, the year, what happened, and a host of other questions.

“Things look promising, Mr. Anderson. You’re very lucky. We’ll have a team of specialists come in later for a more thorough cardiovascular check and respiratory assessment. Neurology will be here as well to assess your memory and cognitive function.”

Dr. Jones smiles and pats my arm. “We’ll give you some pain medication. Try to get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.” She looks at Belle, who is still gripping me tightly. “Your wife barely left your side this past week. Maybe you can convince her to go home to get some rest.” She nods and leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

I turn to Belle, taking her in fully for the first time. Her hair is in a messy bun, her face too frail and pale, dark circles rimming her bloodshot eyes. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

But she’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

Slowly, I lift our intertwined hands and press a soft kiss on the back of her hand, relishing the pink flush blooming on her face.

“My little muse. You must’ve been so worried.”

She nods vigorously. “I don’t know how I would’ve gone on if I lost you.”

“You would’ve been fine. You’re strong. Perfect. Just the way you are,” I rasp.

Belle wets her lips and sniffles. “Don’t youeverdo that again!”

I want to laugh but the movement causes too much pain. “I don’t plan on getting shot for fun.”

She presses kiss after kiss on my face, careful not to press her weight on my body.

“Does this mean you forgive me, Belle? For being a colossal idiot? For leaving you?”

Her lips curve into a tremulous smile, and she wipes her eyes. “I’msoangry at you, Maxwell. God, I’m so, so, so—”

Her throat works, the words seeming stuck inside her. I cradle her cheek with my hand, the other hand sliding up her nape, fingers tangling in her silky tresses.

I pull her head down and press her forehead to mine, feeling her soft breaths, her tears wetting my cheeks, our noses touching as we wrap ourselves in this intimate silence.

The artist and his muse.

Two halves of a soul torn apart, lost for centuries, roaming the earth, endlessly searching for each other.

Every tragedy in my life. Every heartache. The restlessness I’d felt before.

Everything led me back to her.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Belle,” I whisper against her lips. “And if one lifetime isn’t enough. I’ll find you again in the next life and continue.”

Her breathing quickens, and she leans into my touch. “Never,” she murmurs. “One lifetime is too short.”

She lifts her head, her brilliant eyes pinning me in place, stealing my breath. Her eyes darken into a smooth amber—a trick of the light, I’m sure—and for a moment it seems like I’ve waited my entire life to stare into these eyes again.

Belle whispers, “I love you most ardently and fervently.”

I shiver. She’s saying the same words I said to her when I thought I was dying, words that sounded foreign and yet ring true to the depths of my core. Tears mist her eyes as she smiles, her breath hitching.

I rasp, my voice joining hers in a vow—one that is far more powerful than any curse or omen—one I have a feeling I’ve been waiting lifetimes to say to her ears.

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