Page 15 of Someone to Watch Over Me

I go upstairs to the space above the garage that Tom made available to me, complete with an en suite bathroom, a sitting room and mini kitchen that smelled new when I first moved in. He denies he put it in for me, but I don’t believe him. It’s something we playfully bicker about once in a while.

Thinking about that makes me smile as I change my clothes and put on makeup to hide the ravages of the last twelve hours from him. He’s got enough to think about without worrying about me, too.

When I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to visit him in the hospital, I join Iris downstairs.

“You look great.”

“You’re too kind. I look like something the cat dragged in.”

She sputters with laughter. “You’re not capable of looking like that, so shush. You look fresh and pretty and put together. Tom will be very happy to see you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

She’s awfully good for a girl’s ego, among many other things. I hope that one day, I can pay it forward to someone else who needs a fraction of what she and my other Wild Widows have given me on this journey.

At the hospital, I push aside all the fear and trauma to force myself to be there for Tom the way he’s been there for me. I do my best to ignore the smells and other triggers and keep the focus on the task at hand. I follow the directions from Cora to the cardiac area of the hospital and ask for Tom’s room at the nurses’ station.

“Fourth door down on the left.”

“Thank you so much.”

I’m as nervous as I’ve been in a long time as I approach his room, filled with fear about what I might see in there.

Iris places a hand on my back. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“That’s okay. I think I can do it.”

“I’ll be in the waiting room at the end of the hallway. Take your time.”

I give her a quick hug.

“And remember, whatever’s happening in there, you saved his life and gave him a chance to fix the problem. He might look terrible, but he’s better than he was yesterday.”

I’m nodding as I soak up words that are an elixir to calm my wild heartbeat. “Thank you for everything.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After she walks toward the waiting room, I stare at the door for a full minute before I gather my fortitude and give a brisk knock before I step inside.

Tom is alone in the room, and his handsome face lights up at the sight of me. “Hey. There you are.” His hair is a mess, he’s paler than normal, and his voice is raspy. But he’s alive, and that’s what matters most.

“Here I am.” I’m in full panic mode at the sight of tubes and machines and sounds that bring it all back in a rush of pure horror.

He holds out a hand to me. “Come here.”

As I walk toward him, I feel disconnected from myself, as if my body is functioning outside my control. This entire thing feels like a massive setback for me. If you’d asked me yesterday, I might’ve foolishly said I’ve mostly recovered from what I endured with Jim. I would’ve been very wrong about that.

I take the hand he offers, which has an IV attached to it.

“Hey.”

I force my gaze to meet his intense blue eyes.

“I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

---