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I can’t help but giggle, and blush because he might be serious about that Homer thing. You never know.
He runs his capable fingers through my hair, soft strokes reminding me what they can do.
“What are you thinking? You look mischievous. I didn’t think a day playing hooky would make you so thrilled,” he whispers.
Yeah, now I’m smiling so hard my cheeks burn.
“I’m just amused. You admitted you need me at home,” I tell him.
He glares at me, bosshole mode activated.
“You’re an evil woman.”
I’ve got my arms around him now and hold on tighter. “But do you really need me?”
He sighs. “Yes, Miss Bristol, I can’t manage to get through a single day without you.”
I kiss his jaw and then up his chin, ending with his lips.
“Glad you can admit it. That’s progress.” I slap his chest. “Let’s get up. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Hold on. I have to check the time. If it’s too late, we may need to grab something to eat at the hospital. Jordan has to be there at nine when visiting hours start, just like yesterday. I can’t let that kid down. He already despises me enough.”
So much for the playfulness.
I lay my hand on his face. “He doesn’t hate you, Mag. I promise. He just needs to warm up to you.”
He kisses my shoulder and picks up his phone. “It’s after eight. We have to shower and get out of here.” He stands, walks toward the bathroom, looks back at me, and shakes his head.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I almost suggested we shower together to save time, but of course it wouldn’t save time,” he says with a scowl.
I smile. “Go. Before I jump in with you.”
Mag showers first, then heads out of the room. I shower and get dressed in yesterday’s clothes, which are still pretty clean because I spent so much time naked.
I bite my lip as I exit the bedroom. When I get to the living room, Jordan sits on the couch fully dressed, sneakers on, ready to go.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I hope I didn’t make us late.”
Before Jordan can answer, Mag steps up beside me and hands me a warm, disposable cup. “You’re fine. Here’s a pick-me-up. Sorry, I don’t have cinnamon.”
“No problem,” I say, slurping the coffee. I swallow the acrid brew and my face puckers. “No sugar either, huh?”
He fails to suppress a laugh.
Jordan jumps up. “Okay, Mag makes bad coffee, breaking news. Can we go now?”
“Sure,” I say, sizing him up.
His moods can be volatile and I wonder what today will bring. He seemed a bit lighter yesterday, but I wonder if it was looking forward to a shiny new year.
Jordan walks out of the door ahead of us.
“I told you. He’s going to kill me,” Mag whispers in my ear.
“You’re very patient with him,” I say encouragingly. “You guys will be fine. It’s just going to take time. Big changes.”
I’m not wrong about the last part. All three people in this penthouse have had their worlds flipped upside down over the past week.
How long can this go on?
How long until some new disaster sends us plummeting into the abyss?* * *At the hospital, a doctor comes out of Marissa’s room just as we get to the entrance.
He stops and looks at Mag.
“You must be Mr. Heron.” He holds his hand out.
Mag shakes it with a fierce glow in his eyes. “Yes, and you’re Doctor Bahkta? From Johns Hopkins?”
“Yes.” His gaze drops from Mag to Jordan before returning to Mag. “Do you want to talk for a minute, alone?”
Magnus nods. “Of course.”
“No,” Jordan says, tensing.
We all look at him for a beat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m her son. Not him.” He looks at the doctor. “You’re not telling him anything you can’t tell me. He shouldn’t be making decisions for my mom.”
“Jordan—” Mag starts.
“Mag?” I say quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder.
He looks at me, his harsh eyes softening.
“He’s fourteen,” I say, remembering other conversations.
“Exactly. Too young,” he growls.
“He deserves to know,” I hiss back.
Magnus goes quiet, thoughts leaping back and forth in his eyes.
“I’m sure you’re a wonderful son,” Dr. Bhakta says. “However, as a minor, I’m not allowed to provide you with information unless I have—”
“It’s okay,” Mag cuts in. “He’s old enough to hear the truth. Tell us all.”
“You’re sure?” The doctor raises his bushy eyebrows.
Mag nods.
“Well, the good news is she has a lot of healthy brain activity. Odds of survival are overwhelmingly in her favor...” His voice trails off.
“But?” Magnus snaps.
“Sir, with a coma like this, there’s no way to pinpoint when she’ll wake up. Fortunately, I don’t think it’s a question of if. I just don’t believe it’s going to be soon. We’re giving her anti-inflammatories to bring down the swelling. We could be looking at a week or two—” Dr. Bhakta stops.
