Page 22 of Wrong Number Text

I pick my head up and find a tissue.

Damn straight I can do this.

“You keep throwing around marriage, Leo. That’s not normal. And I’m going to table the wedding discussion until you’re not high on morphine. But if you’re asking me if I can handle the pressure of loving you. Then yes. I want to be with you, and I know I have to be brave. I can do it.”

“Hey, I mentioned marriage before the morphine too.” He gestures for me to give him my hand back. “Marry me.”

My head spins at his words. I don’t think I can catch my breath, much less form my own words back, but somebody says, “Yes,” and it sounds like me.

He smiles and kisses my knuckles. “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you so happy you never realize what a mistake you just made.”

“I’ll settle for no more emergency hospital visits. And lots of sex.”

He laughs hard and then winces. “That’s probably going to have to wait a day or two.”

Pain is etched on his face.

“Oh, Leo. Are you okay?”

“It only hurts when I laugh.”

I make comforting noises and bring him the tiny bit of water he’s allowed to drink through a straw.

“Leo, oh my God,” a voice comes from the door.

“Here we go,” he groans.

A woman in a retro dress with lemons and the most kick-ass shoes sort of blows into the room the way a category five hurricane might. She’s got a pierced nose and tattoos and she’s carrying a cat.

“Why did you not call a single member of your family when you were rushed to the hospital?” She stops, notices me, looks at my hand linked with Leo’s. “And you have a girlfriend?”

“Stella, you can’t bring a cat into the hospital.”

“I couldn’t leave it at the shelter. It has anxiety. And don’t change the subject. What is going on and who is this delicious woman holding your hand?” She rakes her gaze over me, assessing. “You’re the librarian, aren’t you? I think I saw you at the grocery store the other day and I asked the checker who you were, and she told me you worked at the library. Said you’ve been here for a while, but you must not go out much. You want a cat? I mean, I know that’s cliché and all, but this one needs a home.” She holds him up like maybe I hadn’t noticed she was carrying a cat. “Also, are you having sex with my brother? I mean, I think you can do a lot better, and he doesn’t like cats.”

“Stella,” Leo warns.

I reach my hand across the bed to her. “I’m actually marrying your brother. My name is Dixie, and I have always wanted a cat. My landlord won’t let me have one, though.”

“You can keep him at Leo’s.”

“Goddammit, Stella,” Leo says, but there’s no heat in it. “You did that on purpose.”

“What?” she asks, the picture of innocence. “Cats are very independent. I’ve been telling you for years you should have a cat to come home to. He won’t mind your long days. And now you have a girlfriend he can keep company.”

He groans. “Can you at least not tell the family yet? I’d like to introduce Dixie properly before everyone starts making unnecessary trips to the library to stalk her.”

“Maybe.” She hands me the cat, and I move out of the way so she can sit next to her brother. “I can’t believe you didn’t call.”

“I was busy getting cut open.”

She forces the story of how we met out of him. Leo and I make an eye-agreement to just go with the internet dating explanation. It seems easiest. And she blows out of the room pretty much the way she came into it, promising to bring the cat to me tomorrow.

I start dimming the lights when she leaves. “You look tuckered out.”

“She’s exhausting.”

“She loves you.”

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