Page 17 of My Heart Before You

Opening his eyes, he saw a less blurry Emilie sprawled on a loveseat adjacent to the chair he was seated in.

She sat up straight. “Neither have I.”

Rising from the couch, she crossed behind the kitchen island. “Let me get you that coffee. How much can you see now?”

“Shapes, but the edges are blurred. Things are coming back into detail, but slowly. At least I can open my eyes.”

He heard her pour water into a coffee maker and smelled the roasted beans as she poured their pulverized bits onto a fresh filter.

“That’s good,” she said calmly, before her next words rushed out. “I just thought of something. Are you on call right now?”

“No. No. I was in the office this morning, but I’m done for today.” Now that his vision was returning, he could see what a mess his shirt and shorts were. “Could I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, do you want me to walk you to it?” She was already coming around the kitchen island.

Colin held up a hand. “Just point me in the direction.”

“First right,” she said once he stood up and positioned himself facing the short hallway.

Splashing some water on his face felt like tempting fate, but luckily it felt cool and slightly soothing. He attempted to use the towel she gave him to clean up his clothes, but quickly realized it was pointless.

When he returned to the main living space, a mug of coffee was steaming on the island. Emilie stood leaning her hip on the counter, balancing on one bare foot with her other pressed against her calf. She was blowing into a handcrafted ceramic mug with a dragonfly painted on it. The casual stance was charming and distracting at the same time.

“Feeling better?”

He blinked. “A little,” he said, placing the refolded towel on the island.

She nodded to the counter. “What’s printed on the mug?”

“It’s the old PBS emblem.” He picked up the mug and took a sip of the burning hot liquid.

For once he didn’t welcome the familiar sensation. There’d been enough burning for one day.

“Good. What color are my eyes?”

Her focused chestnut eyes were surrounded by hair slightly askew from the last half hour’s events. She had the same small freckles across her nose and cheeks that dotted her hands and forearms. He wondered if she knew she had a cluster just past her right wrist that looked like Ursa Major, or that her skin held the perfect mix of softness and warmth, which had made it hard for him to let go of her hand in the elevator.

“Brown,” he said evenly, resisting the urge to clear his throat.

“What time is it?” She pointed to the digital microwave clock behind her.

A grateful exhale left his lungs at the diversion. He squinted. “3:17.”

“I’d say your vision is back. How do you feel?”

Colin felt like someone had smashed his face with a sack of bricks then poured gasoline over him and lit it on fire.

“I’ll survive. How are you?” With the distraction of extreme pain, he hadn’t addressed the fact that she was almost successfully mugged in a city park in broad daylight. The whole ordeal must have frightened her.

Darkness flashed through her eyes for the briefest second. He wasn’t sure if he saw it at all, his vision was improving but not perfect, and the microwave clock numbers were blurring now.

She took a deep breath. “I was scared, but on the bright side, I’ve still got my purse and now I know carrying pepper spray in the city isn’t overkill.”

“You took both of us out easily,” he agreed.

“Yeah, and he didn’t have anyone to help him after. I hope he’s having a shitty afternoon.” The vengeful smile that crossed her lips as she sipped her coffee slightly surprised him, even though it was completely warranted. He’d wanted to pummel the mugger after watching the few seconds of his attack on Emilie.

A quiet strength emanated from her, which was immediately and intensely attractive. Mixed with her subtle girl-next-door beauty and this sense of camaraderie and absolute comfort in her presence, he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts professional.

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