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Omar gave me a nod and handed me a small cell phone. “If you wish to return to the penthouse, just call and I’ll send a driver.” Then he left.
I wasn’t sure how to approach the body of the man I loved. He seemed so fragile laying there with tubes and instruments connected all over his face and arms. I slid the chair next to his bed and slid my hand into his left one. Other than it not being cold, it felt dead. I began sobbing again. Then I tried to talk to him.
“Amir? It’s me, Julie. Before I apologize, I want you to know how much I love you. How much I missed you. I was so wrong. I want to be with you, and I’m so sorry! I will surrender to your will in all this. I will do as you ask and move here. I will give you an heir who you can raise, and if you want more children, I’ll give you more. Anything you want, Amir—you are my greatest love. I know this now…”
New tears choked out my words, and I ended up laying my head next to his limp hand on the bed.
His finger twitched, and I kissed it. The doctors had told me he would randomly twitch or move, and I shouldn’t expect him to resurface for at least another week. So, I laid there with my lips pressed to his hand, and I sobbed. Then with an ironic chuckle I told him.
“Guess what? You were right. It’s a boy. We’re going to have a boy, my love. Your son—your heir. I hope he looks just like you. You are so beautiful. I love you, Amir.”
Chapter Eight
They brought in a cot, and I ended up staying with Amir the entire week. Today the doctors were going to remove the breathing apparatus and hopefully bring him out of the coma. His back was broken, and although it appeared as if no nerves had been severed, they were unsure if he would end up paralyzed. The bruises on his face and chest were healing, but he was still almost unrecognizable. There was one scar down his jaw which was stitched together, so it looked angrier than it would have without all the black spider legs crawling up the side of his face. They said it had been deep, and he would remain scarred the rest of his life. I suppose it would add to his masculine charm and hopefully make for a good story.
Anna and Omar were also there, and as we waited in the hall I wrung my hands and paced. I’d never really cared about another person this much. However, now that I’d given in and given up my will, and admitted how much Amir meant to me, I was a mess of worry. I felt totally unprepared for this scenario; I wasn’t exactly the nurturing, caregiver type.
“What do I do if he doesn’t recognize me? What if he’s amnesic like the doctors said was possible? What if he can’t walk?”
I was near hysteria when the doctor appeared. I studied his face for any indication of hope. His features were relaxed and unconcerned, although he wasn’t exactly buoyant.
“He is awake, although we are uncertain how aware he is of the accident. He seems to have some feeling in his feet, but that as well, will need time and physical therapy. Don’t be alarmed if he seems agitated for a while. As the drugs wear off, he will become more cognizant.”
Okay then. Why was I terrified to meet his eyes? I hesitated at the door, and Omar pushed it open from behind me. “We’re here with you,” he said reassuringly.
Anna picked up my hand and held it as we entered together. Amir scanned all three of us, and when his eyes landed on mine, he smiled. He actually grinned at seeing me. Then he flinched and winced, but that was enough, and I rushed to him. I gulped and croaked my way through declarations of love. He weakly gripped my hand in return and traced this thumb across my knuckles.
Omar and Anna told him how much they both loved him, and then they left us alone. Initially, he’d been speaking Arabic and Omar had translated the few uttered words. Now in a cracking voice he said, “I love you, Julie.”
I flung myself against his chest and cried all over him.
“Me too, Amir. I love you so much. I am so sorry!”
“What does this mean?” he asked.
“I surrender. I will devote my life to you. To our son.”
“It is true then? I thought I’d hallucinated. It is a boy?”
I nodded and sniffed, “Yes, a strong, healthy boy. Your heir, my love.”
His expression clouded, “I do not want your pity, Julie. If you are here only because of this—this—my state of weakness—I do not want you this way.” He coughed and groaned.
“No, Amir. I was near breaking down in Boston. I was useless.” I offered him a sardonic chuckle.
“So much for my independence. I wasn’t working or even trying. I’d given up. I was going to call you—tell you about the baby—I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t know if you’d take me back.” I picked up his hand and kissed the top of it. “I was prepared to beg you, though.”
He chuckled again, “I highly doubt that.”
“No, I was,” I whined.
He cupped my cheek and looked me in the eyes, “I told you I would be here when you were ready. You took your sweet time.”
In that instant, I knew he was going to be fine—his humor was showing through all the med
ications and his incapacitated state.
“I’m so sorry.”
