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They strap her onto a stretcher, begin to carry her away. Edward coaxes me to follow and I force myself to put one foot in front of the other.

Isla stops us, "The press conference, the reporters…"

"Fuck the reporters," I growl.

"Let’s not alienate the press," Arpad cautions.

"Fuck that," I snap, "My wife was just shot and you think I care about the world?"

He grips my neck and forces me to meet his gaze, "Take two hours," he says. "Then, you need to talk to them. Julia would want you to do this."

Right.I draw in a breath, force myself to focus, focus. "At the hospital," I finally mutter, "I’ll issue a statement in two hours."

Isla nods and darts off.

I head for the doors, supported by Arpad and Edward on either side, like the fucking loser that I am. I can’t even walk on my own, it seems. I twist away from their grasp; they don’t protest. I stalk forward, my friends in tow, past the few remaining guests, out the open doors, down the steps, toward where the paramedics are loading in the stretcher with my life, my heart… How am I even breathing right now?

I stumble and Arpad rights me, "You okay?"

No, I never will be again.

I reach the ambulance, grab hold of the handle to pull myself inside, when another woman stops me. "The cops will need to speak with you."

I stare at her, not able to place her features.

"Karina?" Arpad steps forward.

Karina glances at him; her features tighten. "The cops," she repeats. "They need his statement."

"Not now, we need to go to the hospital," I snap.

Arpad shoots me a warning glare.

I hold his gaze for a second, then turn to Karina, "At the hospital, after the press conference."

She nods. "Three hours, no more. Also," she scowls, "the shooter was the same man who broke into your place a few months ago."

A paramedic interrupts, “Sir, we need you to get in so we can close the doors now.

"Motherfucker," I say to Karina as I pull myself into the vehicle. "I am going to make sure he goes down for a long time."

"You do that, Rockstar." She turns and heads toward the waiting cops .

I sink down into the seat next to Julia and hold her hand.

As the doors begin to close, Arpad calls out, "I'll be right behind you."

44

Julia

The darkness is so soothing, it envelops me, cocoons me. I want to stay here, and yet, something niggles at my subconscious mind. Him. Where is he? I reach for him and find nothing. Panic grips me… I need to go to him. I can’t leave, not now, not when he said he loves me. He LOVES me. Of course, he’d said it under duress… On my last breath… Last breath? No, I am not dying, am I? I can’t die. I don’t want to die. Goddam it. I snap my eyes open and the light blinds me.

"Ow," I protest, "I hate fluorescent lights."

"Julia?" The light cuts out, to be replaced by his face—his hard chin, those high cheekbones, the skin stretched across it, now pale and with hollows under those beautiful eyes. "Julia?" His stern lips form my name and I watch, fascinated at the few grey hairs that thread his stubble.

"You’re old." I cough, and my voice sounds strange, even to me.