“I wonder if they make some of those baby carriers for adults. So I can just keep you attached to me at all times to keep you safe,” he mutters under his breath.
“Being attached to you doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” I giggle.
Another knock on the door and the doctor walks in.
“Are you ready to go, Ms. Pierson?”
“Take me if you must,” I say dramatically, flinging myself back onto the bed.
“Jesus, you’re high as a kite,” Mick says, making Jake laugh.
“Yeah, painkillers and Shane don’t mix,” Jake tells him.
“Haters, all of you.” I point at the four of them. “Hey, why are there four of you two?”
“I love you, baby girl. See you when you’re done.” Mick leans forward, giving me a soft kiss.
“I love you too, Micks,” I tell both of him, making him laugh.
I barely remember being wheeled into the operating room. All I remember is a man with a mask above me telling me to count to one hundred. I remember saying two and then nothing.
The next thing I remember is coughing. I was coughing for some reason. I tried to open my eyes, but they were too heavy.
Why are they so heavy?
“Honey, if you’re coughing, try turning on your side,” a feminine voice says over me.
I try to respond, but my mouth won’t work.
How can I turn on my side when I can’t even talk?
I fade out.
This time when I come to, my eyes pop open. My stomach feels weird and my foot is immobilized.
I start to panic, but then a warm hand covers mine.
Then he’s in front of me.
Mick.
“Hey, baby girl. How are you feeling?”
I try to talk, but my throat is scratchy.
“Here. Let’s get you sitting up.” He presses the button on the bed so I’m in a more seated position.
Then he holds a cup with a straw up to my mouth. I take a small sip before clearing my throat.
“Thank you.”
“Always. Good thing I came back. Looks like I won’t be able to leave you alone.” He winks.
“I don’t ever want you to leave again. These past six months have been miserable.”
“Same, baby girl, same.” He leans in, kissing me softly.
“When can we go home?”