Page 89 of Where Happiness Begins

“Ms. DiLorenzo, I have good news.”

I jump in bed, straightening my scratchy hospital gown as Dr. Khan walks in a few hours later, his pristine white coat matching his perfect smile. The resident surgeon who operated on me two years ago obviously knows how good-looking he is, but everyone forgives him because he’s damn good at his job.

“Everything looks great,” he says.

“W-what?”

“All your labs look good.” He takes a seat at the edge of my bed. “We looked, but there’s no sign of rejection. That kidney isn’t going anywhere.”

The breath that fills my lungs feels like the first one I’ve taken in days.

“Your blood pressure was all over the place from your medication, so we adjusted that, and you were probably fighting some kind of viral infection that worsened everything, but I’m not worried about you.”

I should probably be crying right now, but I think I’ve used up all my tears for the next year. Instead of being ecstatic or overwhelmed with relief, the only thing I find to say is, “Can I go?”

“Go? Now?”

I nod. “Thank you, Doctor, for everything, but if I just have a virus, I want to go home.” I sound depleted, even to my ears.

He looks down at his watch. “But it’s almost midnight.”

“Please?”

He must sense that I need this because he says, “All right. Let me go sign your discharge papers and get those IVs out, and then you’ll be all set.”

I thank him again, then dress back into the clothes I walked in with, although I’d almost rather stay in my hospital gown. The last time I wore those jeans, I was snuggled against Carter, feeling like he was my fortress in a hurricane. All those moments are tainted now. Which were real, and which were lies? Were theyalllies? I almost can’t believe that, but my judgment clearly isn’t something I can rely on.

The moment a nurse comes in and removes my IV, I grab my things and leave the room.

And stop in my tracks the second I see Carter’s long body bent in an awkward seating position on the hallway floor, facing my door.

Immediately, he jumps to his feet, and I barely recognize him from how tired he looks. His hair is a mess, tangled locks falling over his forehead. Deep blue circles underline his eyes, and his hoodie is wrinkled and twisted around his body.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and he only stares at me as if wanting to make sure I’m truly there.

I swallow, hugging my bag closer to me. “I’m going home. Everything’s fine.” He looks distraught enough that I know some part of himdoescare, and I can give him that small mercy, at least.

It’s as if Carter’s entire being crumbles under my very eyes. His head drops between his shoulders, and he rakes his fingers through his hair as he lets out the longest, deepest sigh.

“You should go home too,” I say, fighting with everything in me to keep myself collected.

A muscle ticks in his cheek. “Which home?”

I want to have him come back with me. I want it so bad it physically hurts. But I’m also not a complete idiot. Asking him to come home would be burying my head in the sand.

“Yours.”

The back of his hand moves roughly against his mouth as he gazes left and right, looking like a lost man hoping to find answers somewhere.

I can’t stand here any longer. I hold my breath as I pass him.

“Can we at least talk before? Please?” His footsteps behind me are loud through the calm hospital hallway. “You need to know the full of it. You need to know I—”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” I keep walking.

“I fucked up. I really did. But if you just let me—”

I jolt the second his fingers touch my hand, pulling away with a spin so I’m facing him. Nurses look up from where they’re writing notes in their station. We’re starting to make a scene, but it’s the least of my concerns. The only real problem in my life rightnow is the man standing three feet away, looking devastated and shredding my heart into a thousand pieces.

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