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My own journey at the ward hadn’t ended by a long way. I had tears from families being torn apart. I watched hopes crashing to fears as people were told they had even less time ahead than the scraps of time they were hoping for, their own bucket lists anything but finished in their final days.
It only made me more determined to make sure Mum’s list came to fruition – all bar the daughter-in-law request, of course.
Ride the back of a motorcycle around a sharp corner.
I’d better get to it.31ChloeThe week went by quickly and slowly both at once, if that is even possible. The days whizzed past at work as I got caught right up with whatever was going on in the ward. Wendy must have shared the fact she walked in on our kiss, because Richard, Romi and Nadia would wink at me and nudge me every chance they got, asking questions about the weekend and how loved up I was with Dr Hall.
I tried to keep it professional. I didn’t want to spill all the details, but I couldn’t hold back my grins and giggles and the fact that I was absolutely bursting with infatuation for the man who’d stolen my heart over one single weekend.
Work days were intense. I laughed with people, I helped people through their pain, whether that was in body or soul. It was both happy and sad in that ward all day, and my soul was leaping and falling over and over, up and down, leaving me tired as hell every night on the way back home to Halsey on the train.
Still, tired or not, I was always missing him. Logan. Even though I’d only spent a few full days with him, my heart wanted a lifetime more. For real, it wanted a lifetime. Crazy mad, but crazy true.
He didn’t kiss me again for the rest of the week. Plenty of smiles and how are yous and tense passings by in the corridors and on the ward, but never his mouth on mine. No Tuesday kisses, no Wednesday kisses, no Thursday kisses.
I was nervous as all crap when Friday evening approached. I didn’t know what to say, or how, or whether there was anything at all on the cards for the coming days. I should have been focused on getting my stuff from Liam before he chucked it out, and reading the last novel in the Grigori Trilogy, and I told myself that I’d be happy with that. I was practically running an internal mantra that it was ok, that I’d be excited to lounge in bed until midday on a Sunday with my book in my hands under the duvet. No Logan, no big deal. Unfortunately, I didn’t believe my own bullshit and I was nervous as hell.
When Logan approached me in the staffroom as my Friday shift reached its end, my pulse was racing, mouth dry. He looked calm. As steady as ever. Eyes holding onto mine and not letting go.
“How is your availability for photography looking this weekend?” he asked. “I have a motorcycle waiting in my garage.”
I didn’t play it cool. Not even for a second. My answer was right back at him, nodding like a bobblehead. “My availability is great. Super great. Just tell me what you need.”
He tipped his head, and his smirk was amazing, eyes sparkling like his mum’s.
“How about I need you to come home with me this evening?” he said. “We could make a weekend of it. Take Mum around her sharp bend and catch up in other areas.”
“Are other areas in your bedroom?” I asked him with a laugh, nerves fast disappearing under the relief.
His smirk was still on his face, eyes still sparkling. “Yes, Chloe. A fair amount of the other areas are indeed in my bedroom.”
“Count me in,” I said. “All areas sounds fab to me.”
“Let me get my coat and briefcase,” he replied, and I was taken aback as he went to grab them at six p.m. on the dot, finishing on time for the first time I’d ever known.
I kept looking up at him all the way out of Franklin Ward and through Harrow District in disbelief, but he was always there, smiling back at the grin on my face.
We walked slowly back to the train station. I reached for his hand when we reached the car park entrance and he took hold and held it strong. It felt amazing.
The conversation started shifting once we were away from the hospital, easing up once we were away from the sheen of professionalism.
“How’s your mum?” I asked, and he took a moment to answer.
“Alive.”
“Alive and as well as possible, or alive and not doing so well?”
“Alive and not doing so well.” He paused. “She hasn’t stopped harping on about you all week by the way. She thinks you’re a divine little thing.”
