Page 159 of Nine Months to Love
“When you get married,” Elena continues, “I want to be there. Not in a hospital bed. On my feet. Dancing.”
My throat tightens again. “You will be. I promise.”
“Good. Because I’ve been practicing my moves.”
“In your hospital bed?”
“In my dreams, darling. In my dreams.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Elena says, “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”
I tense up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you keep looking at your purse like it’s going to take a bite out of you.”
I glance down. My purse is sitting on the floor beside my chair. The note from Natalia is tucked inside, burning a hole through the leather.
“It’s nothing,” I mumble.
“Olivia.”
“Really. It’s nothing important.”
Elena doesn’t push. But I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
Luckily, Dr. Rodgers arrives before the conversation can continue. She’s pleased with Elena’s progress and says if things continue to improve, Elena might be able to go home in a few days.
“A few days?” Elena scoffs. “I want to go home now.”
“Let’s not rush things,” Dr. Rodgers says gently. “You were shot twice. Your body needs time to heal.”
Elena grumbles but doesn’t argue further. Dr. Rodgers finishes her examination and leaves, promising to check back in a few hours.
I’m about to suggest Elena try to rest when the door opens again.
Stefan walks in holding two cups of coffee. He stops dead when he sees Elena sitting up. “Babushka.”
“Stefushka.”
He’s across the room in two strides, setting the coffee down and pulling her into a careful hug. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Oh, just wonderful!” she says sarcastically. “In fact, I think I’d like two more bullets, please.”
Stefan pulls back, his hands framing her face. “Don’t joke about that.”
“Why not? If I can’t joke about it, what’s the point of surviving?”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re impossible.”
Elena pats his cheek. “Of course I am. Who do you think taught you everything you know? Now, sit down and stop hovering. You’re making me nervous.”
Stefan drags a chair over and sits. I hand him one of the coffees he brought and take the other for myself.
“The doctor says I can go home in a few days,” Elena informs him.
“That’s optimistic,” I say, at the same time that Stefan says, “That’s too soon.”
Elena waves a dismissive hand at both of us. “Save your breath, the two of you. I’m not staying in this hospital any longer than I have to. The food is terrible and the beds are worse.”
