Page 61 of The Last Sunrise

“Today? When was the other? Please tell me it wasn’t when I… oh god… Ry. If I would have known, I would have never—”

I sit up a little, adjusting my body in the tub. “The one thing I ask from you is to not treat me differently. I know it’s nearly impossible, but please don’t say you wouldn’t have reacted the same if you knew. You didn’t cause the seizure. I believe it was my emotional overload that triggered it at that exact moment, but no one and nothing caused this or can fix it.”

“I want to hate you for not telling me, but I can’t seem to get past the pain of the idea of losing you.” Julián’s body shakes with a sob. His hands cover his face, and I lean over him and turn the water off. I reach for him, the water splashing around me as I gently pull his hands away from his face. Tears pour from his eyes, and he launches forward, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to him.

“Shhh… It will be okay… it will all be okay.” I promise him something I can’t keep.

“I should be the one telling you that.” He hugs me harder. The fabric of his top is so cold against my heated skin. I reach my hands between us and start to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re freezing; come in with me,” I suggest.

He seems to realize that his clothes are still wet. I push the shirt down his shoulders, and he silently removes the rest of his clothes, climbing into the opposite side of the bathtub. I don’t pressure him to move closer to me, even though I want nothing more than to hug him again, to hug him every second of every minute of every hour of every day, until the end of mine.

“Are you afraid?” Julián asks me after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes.”

His shoulders rock, my heart breaking again and again as he tries to hold in his tears.

“I wasn’t afraid before. I was at peace with what would happen when I came here. I stopped resenting fate, I accepted it, welcomed it even. But then I met you… and I started to grow angry again. I found myself wanting to curse the world, destroy it. I had stopped fighting it, stopped fighting everything. I was okay… but you, you make me want to live, and that’s what I’m afraid of the most. That now I want to fight to live. And that makes me more afraid than dying. Knowing that now I want to live, and can’t.”

“You can. There must be a way. My pare knows a doctor in Madrid. I can ask him; there must be a way. I refuse to accept that your life is over. Even if you’re tired of fighting, I am not. I will never be.”

I sigh, wishing I could make him understand that the only solution is way too risky and not one I’m willing to take. Is it better to let him waste his energy fighting a battle he can never win?

“Let’s fight, okay? Please, Ry, I can’t lose you. You can’t…” He struggles to say the word. “Die. You can’t. I can’t lose you. You’ve become everything to me, and I can’t lose you.”

I move across the water, holding on to him long after the water is cold, long after his body has run out of tears. Eventually, he wraps me in a thick robe and carries me to the bed. He watches me until I fall asleep, and I wonder if it’s because he’s worried I won’t wake up.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next few days, we don’t leave my room. We order room service that Julián curses at the prices of for every meal. We watch TV, and I use my suite status to have a pile of crosswords delivered to my room for Julián.

We play house and it’s wonderful. We make love all over my suite, against the walls, the tables, couch and chairs, the bed, in the tub. My mom gives me the space I’ve begged for for years, only having Lena come by once with a nurse and fresh refills of my medications. I take them as Julián scribbles the names of each one inside the cover of his crossword book in his hands. He promises that his pare doesn’t need him to work right now, with the transition and up-in-the-airness of the situation with the fishery. We barely speak of our parents, silently agreeing that this is our bubble for now and nothing and no one is going to pop it.

I read, I nap, I eat. Julián doesn’t ask more details about my tuberous sclerosis, but I saw the words on his phone screen while I pretended to watchMamma Mia!, one of my favorite comfort movies. It’s almost as if nothing happened. Julián’s behavior hasn’t changed aside from watching me even more closely, which he had basically done anyway since we met.

“I can’t eat any more of the food on here,” I finally tell him one morning, scrolling through the room service menu on the TV.

I’ve lost track of the days, but I don’t care to know where we are in time.

Julián’s relieved groan lets me know he’s been waiting to hear those words from me.

“Wanna go back to the world today?” I ask him. He sits down on the bed, scooting closer to me and leaning down on one elbow, looking up at my face.

“Only if you’re ready to.”

I smile, leaning down to kiss him. “I am. And I’m ready to wear something besides this robe, honestly.” I pull at the neck of the thick fabric. As plush and lush as they are, after wearing them so much, it’s suffocating me a bit.

“Well.” Julián presses his lips against my shoulder, pulling the robe down, and down, and down, his fingers untying the bow at my waist. It falls from me, and he lays me back onto the mattress, hovering over my bare body.

“I’m ready for you to be out of that robe too. And we should celebrate our release.” He follows my eyes down to my tight, heavy breasts and matches my grin before disappearing between my thighs.

Once we’re dressed, me in a thin white cotton sundress with a crochet cutout pattern across the torso, and him in the clothes I had Amara help me have delivered here, not without protest, of course. Julián wanted none of the small stack of brand-new T-shirts and shorts we had the concierge get him, but I usedmy mouth and body to shut him up eventually, and he was glad to have fresh underwear and clothes, even though the price tag made him look physically ill. He asked if we could return them at least ten times since, but I convinced him it was a good thing to spend my mother’s money, as much of it as possible. And I didn’t say this part, but those outfits, socks, underwear, all of it, would be about as noticeable in her account as her almond milk lattes she orders every morning.

I let the air dry my hair as I’ve been doing since we locked ourselves in my room and don’t bother with my contacts. I do, however, bother with my medication, and Julián watches me like a hawk as I take each one, handing me my water bottle to wash them down. A little of my brain fog is creeping back, but even with it, I refuse to break the promise I made to him to fight to live for as long as I can manage. I put on sunscreen and Julián groans like a toddler as I rub the white cream across his skin, telling me he’s never worn sunscreen a day in his life. I shut him up by reminding him that skin cancer is a thing, and if I’m going to try to stay alive, so is he. He takes photos of me with his phone as I dab a little blush on my cheeks, and I blow a kiss to his phone camera.

Julián has me pick out his outfit, a beige T-shirt from Polo and linen shorts to match. He looks devilishly handsome in everything, but I’ll admit, I like him in his usual sun-faded clothes the most. As we stare into the mirror before leaving, I slide a pair of sunglasses onto his face and his mouth drops open.

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