Page 77 of My Heart Before You

Emilie gasped against his lips, and he knew that his fingers were probably cold. He’d chosen to forgo gloves, and his reward for facing the elements was the soft feeling of her beautifully freckled skin under his fingers. If she gave him the opportunity, he would spend the rest of his life memorizing this delicate map of points. He kissed her slowly, tasting every reach of her mouth with tender, unrushed strokes of his tongue.

Pulling her back into an easy walk, Colin tried to conceal a smirk. “What would you normally make today?”

“On my days off, I try to make something that I can reheat for the rest of the week. I was thinking of making lasagna.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“Okay. We just need to stop by the market to pick up a few things on the way home.”

He wondered if she knew she was doing it again, speaking in that simple way that made his pulse and thoughts race. There was no way he was going to make it out of this day alive if those beautiful words kept falling from those beautiful lips.

They walked quietly for a few moments before she asked, “What made you want to be a doctor?” He realized that with all their conversations, they’d never discussed the topic.

“Because of my mom,” he answered. “Before she died, I was thinking about becoming a math professor like my dad. After seeing the different oncologists and how wonderful they all were with her, I decided that was what I wanted to do.

“I was pretty singularly focused on that career path until my second year of medical school when a faculty member and mentor gently suggested that perhaps I choose a different field of medicine. That way I wouldn’t be reliving her death with every patient I lost to cancer.

“I’d been interested in cardiology and with her suggestion, it was like I was given permission to pursue something else. Something that I just liked instead of trying to make up for what I’d lost.”

She was nodding faintly beside him, her eyes looking out over the water as the slight breeze pushed her wavy hair. “Professor. Your father taught college math?”

His eyes strained involuntarily, and he swallowed against the bitter taste in this mouth. “Yes.”

Emilie’s gloved fingers tightened around his. “What was he like?”

Tension ran down his arms and he stopped, letting go of her hand. “Emilie, I don’t . . .”

She turned to him, squinting and shielding her eyes against the sun with her hand. Almost automatically, he stepped closer to cast a shadow over her face.

Her hand dropped from her forehead to his arm. “I’m sorry for asking.”

He felt his chest pull against his coat with his inhale as he looked at the water. “No. It’s okay. You’re allowed to ask. It’s just . . .” The words caught in his throat, scratching against the inside of his neck. “I . . . I couldn’t save him.”

Her sharp inhale drew his attention. Darkness flashed quickly in her eyes before she pushed them tightly closed. Her other hand flew to his bicep as if she was about to lose her balance.

“Emilie?”

Her eyes snapped open. “How did he die?”

It was a strange sensation that flowed through his body as she asked that question. In that second, it became more important to him to answer her than it was to conceal the pain of how his inactivity played a role in his father’s death. He became hyper focused on the tension in her eyes and his pulsating need to relieve it.

“My father had AFib but never told me about it. He’d been on coumadin therapy when he got a late spring flu going around campus. I came and took care of him for a few days, brought him cans of chicken soup and crackers.” His gaze flowed to the moving water. “I didn’t think anything about how he didn’t eat the spinach salad he always had everyday with dinner.

“His INR spiked with the shift in his diet, and when he returned to campus a few days later, he fell in his office and hit his head on the side of his desk. He’d already taught his classes for the day, and I was on call that night, so it wasn’t until someone checked his office the next day that they found him on the carpet.”

He glanced to see that the previous agitation in her eyes had soothed, only concern remained in them.

“At the time, I didn’t know about any of his medical history, so I didn’t understand how my father was fine one day and found dead on the floor of his office the next. The autopsy showed a massive intracranial hemorrhage. The thing . . .” His breath caught.

“The thing is that this is what Ido. I’ve spent my life dedicating myself to my career. Had I known, I could have titrated his medication, or gotten his cardiologist on board, orsomething.”

His hand flew through his hair as itchiness swelled in his body again. “But I didn’t know anything. He never told me, and because he didn’t trust me enough to tell me about his health, he died of something completely preventable.”

Her fingertips on his coat sleeve tightened. “He probably didn’t want to worry you after all you’d been through with your mom.”

“On some level I understand that.” A heated exhale left his lungs. “But I was thirteen then. I’m thirty-eight now and agoddamncardiothoracic surgeon. If I’d known, he'd still be with me.”

Her gloved fingers pushed a stray hair from his temple, reminding him she was right in front of him. When Colin glanced down, her eyes were filled with such empathy that his head bowed on its own accord. His eyes fluttered closed at the pressure of her forehead against his, her hand sliding to the base of his neck, holding him to her. Her touch was comforting in a way nothing prior had ever been.

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