Page 37 of Still The One

His usually upbeat face (because he can be Mr Sunshine at times – annoying) drops, and he goes serious.

‘You don’t actually hate me, right?’ His words carry a tinge of sadness and apprehension.

I take a deep breath, letting out a heavy sigh as I settle down near his feet, positioning myself to face him.

‘You heard that, huh?’ I ask, thinking back to my phone conversation with Jess recently. I’m surprised it took him this long to ask about it.

He nods.

‘Truthfully, Fost, this has been such a whirlwind that I haven’t had a chance to properly evaluate my feelings yet, because I never expected to see you again.’

‘Everything about us has been whirlwind-style, right from jump,’ he says, lifting his good shoulder in a shrug like he just can’t help it.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Because of that, I can confirm that IthoughtI hated you. I say I hate you. You’re not my favorite person on the planet any more. But then you were suddenly in mytrauma room and things I thought were settled suddenly feel complicated.’

He nods, as if he understands. And maybe he does?

‘I’ll take that,’ he murmurs in a low voice, his eyes half-closed. ‘For the record, in the future, when I’m not high on morphine, and you’re not feeling overly complicated, we should probably have a conversation.’

I look at him with curiosity. ‘I’m OK with us not rehashing the past.’

Before I can exit the room, he grabs my hand. ‘Evie… thank you – for doing this. I’ll repay you somehow.’

I nod. ‘I know, Fost. I’ll wake you up for meds, OK?’

‘’Night, Jellybean.’

Why is my heart palpitating? Is it Foster? Or maybe the stress is finally going to do me in? I don’t have long to think about it because within minutes, Phil is back.

‘Knock, knock, love,’ he says, opening my door and inviting himself in.

He’s pulling a suitcase behind him, and a vase of daisies that I know was on his kitchen counter is in one hand. He gives it to me. ‘Be a dear and put these in his room? Flowers help with healing, this much I know. Now, give me a sec and I’ll be right back with the wine.’

‘Always the hostess, aren’t you?’

I sneak into my room, setting the daisies on my dresser. They remind me of the flowers I carried during Foster’s and my wedding. Sigh.Don’t start thinking of those moments yet.I glance at Foster, lying in my bed, fast asleep, soft snoring flooding the room. Yet I feel content with him here? Almost like I’ve missed him? Have I?

I exit my room, as Phil walks in bear-hugging three bottles of wine against his chest. I unzip the bag he packed for Foster,pulling things out one by one, and stacking them on my kitchen counter while he works on opening the wine.

‘These are some very colorful choices,’ I say to Phil with a giggle.

The vibrant colors of the leggings catch my eye. A bright purple pinstripe pair. A Hawaiian gift-shop-inspired design. And a lovely pink floral print. The extra underwear is also a sight to behold, featuring a range of eye-catching Technicolor tighty whities. Among the T-shirts, one stands out with the bold phrase: ‘I look good.Realgood’ printed across the front. Phil even included all the necessary toiletries and hair products, though I suspect I’ll be the one using those since Foster has never been interested in styling his hair beyond a quick brush-through.

‘I have a feeling that boy is built like an Abercrombie underwear model under those scrubs and sling. Am I right?’

I let out a heavy exhale at that image. ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ I say, grabbing the red wine he just opened, and taking a swig straight from the bottle. ‘Are you going to be offended if I don’t use a glass? These past couple of weeks have felt like an eternity.’

‘Of course not,’ he says, maneuvering the corkscrew in another bottle, the pop sound filling the air as he pulls the cork. Without hesitation, he tips it up, taking a long swallow, skipping the need for glasses altogether.

‘Talk,’ he says, tapping his bottle to mine, then sitting back in anticipation of new gossip.

‘So, Foster and me…’

15

GUY ‘FOSTER’

‘Eve?’ I call out, knowing damn well she’s inches from the closed bathroom door. She’s been hovering since she heard me stir earlier.

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