Page 102 of Free to Breathe
“Cori, I can’t,” I immediately protest.
“I need you to understand what I haven’t been able to articulate so you can be my voice when I can’t be. Even if everything goes perfectly, I’m going to need that from you.” Her lips twitch. “It’s not only my guide on what’s been going through my head, but it’s also an insider’s guide on how to handle the family. It’s every dream and all the wishes I’ve had since we’ve met.” She rubs her hands over mine. “There just weren’t enough hours for everything, Colby. There were too many things to say. This book says what I didn’t have time to.”
“You make it sound like you’re giving up,” I rasp.
She shakes her head. “Quite the opposite. This gave me the clarity to fight the right battles.”
“Have you won?” I ask.
The smile that crosses her face is a glimpse of a solar eclipse, a rare gift you want to stare directly into. “I’m sitting in my hospital bed with you. If this isn’t considered winning, I’d say it’s the championship round, and I’ve got amazing odds.”
I cup the nape of her neck and pull her toward me until our foreheads are touching. “Never forget who you are to me, Corinna.”
“Never, Colby.”
“And you’re not going to give up if I’m not there?” I persist.
“All I’ll need to hear is your name,” she whispers. “That’s all I’ll ever need now. Tomorrow, read the book. I promise it will become so clear.”
53
Colby
Day of Surgery
“You warm enough, baby?” I ask Corinna.
It’s not even 5:00 a.m. and we’re already down in the pre-op area. Corinna’s been scrubbed tip to toe with surgical soap, wiped down with sanitization wipes, backup IVs are in, and she has a surgical cap on over her short hair that will be removed once she’s in the operating room.
Anesthesiologists, members of her neurosurgery team, and nurses have all been by. She’s said her legal name and date of birth so many times, I’m beginning to recite it with her when people come into the curtained area.
We’re waiting on two things before she’s wheeled back in for the estimated eight-hour procedure: a quick visit by her immediate family, and Bryan’s orders to move.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice says suddenly. Ali peeks her head around. “We have to come back two at a time. I drew the short straw and have Phil with me.”
Corinna laughs. “That’s because Holly is too emotional, Em would just yell at him, and Cassidy’s going to be asking questions of all the doctors.” It’s incredible how she has her sisters pegged.
“That might be true, Cori, but I’ll bet their knives don’t cost as much as yours do,” Phil drawls.
Am I really hearing this?
“But I’ll bet they get more vicious when they’re not handled properly,” Corinna retorts.
Yep. Definitely happening.
“She’s got you there, Phil. Hospitals tend to get sued over stuff like that,” Ali chimes in. I look at my friend and wonder if she’s lost her mind as she turns her back and discreetly wipes her eyes.
And it’s in that moment that I understand their gallows humor. By not dwelling on the real reason for standing by Corinna’s bedside, they won’t completely lose it in front of her. Adding to the levity, I ask, “I wonder if Bryan makes custom adjustments. We could make Keene forget the combo to my safe, permanently.”
Phil snorts. Ali grins, and Corinna laughs.
“Listen, I’m still bitter about my brownies being eaten. Don’t kid yourself.”
“You’re practically living with the master baker of the universe. Can’t you figure out a way to earn some more?” Ali rolls her bright blue eyes.
Corinna laughs. “Can you imagine how bad this is going to be during recovery? He’s going to have to eat”—her voice lowers to a whisper—“store-bought cookies.”
“Hold on. You haven’t been baking stuff and freezing it? What type of sister are you?” Phil says indignantly.
